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The problem with belonging somewhere new was that it demanded proof.
Kiara learned that on her third week on campus.
She was halfway through her second lecture when the professor paused, scanning the room with a look that made Kiara's stomach tighten.
"Group presentations will be mandatory," he said. "Partners assigned."
Groans rippled through the hall.
Names appeared on the screen.
When Kiara saw hers, her breath caught.
Paired with: Eleanor Wright.
The reaction was immediate.
Whispers. Side glances.
Eleanor Wright didn't need an introduction. She was sharp, polished, and already published in an undergraduate journal. The kind of student professors remembered and others quietly resented.
Eleanor turned slowly in her seat and looked at Kiara.
Her smile was polite.
Calculating.
"So," Eleanor said afterward, adjusting her designer bag. "You're the café girl."
Kiara stiffened. "I have a name."
"I'm sure you do," Eleanor replied lightly. "This course is competitive. I prefer partners who are… available."
"I am available," Kiara said evenly.
Eleanor's gaze flicked to Kiara's phone—buzzing with a shop alert.
"Right," she said. "Of course."
The choice arrived faster than Kiara expected.
That afternoon, Torres Brew called.
Ava's voice was tight. "The espresso machine's acting up again. And we're slammed."
Kiara stared at the library doors in front of her.
Her group meeting started in twenty minutes.
Her shop was unraveling in real time.
"I'll be there," Kiara said.
When she arrived breathless and late to the café, the line stretched out the door. The machine hissed angrily. Customers complained under their breath.
She fixed what she could.
She always did.
But when she checked her phone later, there was an email waiting.
Eleanor Wright:
If this partnership is going to work, I need reliability. Let me know if this course is actually a priority for you.
The words burned.
That night, Shane noticed the change immediately.
"You're splitting in half," he said quietly, standing beside her in the closed shop.
Kiara didn't deny it. "I don't know how to choose."
"You shouldn't have to," he replied.
"But I do," she said. "Everyone else already has."
The door opened then.
Mrs. Benson walked in.
No announcement. No warning.
Just presence.
The air changed.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said coolly.
Kiara straightened instinctively.
Shane's jaw tightened. "You are."
His mother ignored him and turned to Kiara. "I've been following the situation."
Kiara nodded. "Of course you have."
"You're becoming… controversial," Mrs. Benson continued. "The café. The university. My son."
Shane stepped forward. "This isn't—"
"I'm speaking to her," his mother said sharply.
Kiara held her ground. "Say what you came to say."
Mrs. Benson studied her for a long moment. "You're ambitious," she said. "But ambition requires sacrifice. Something must give."
Kiara's fingers curled at her sides.
"Which one?" Mrs. Benson pressed. "The shop, or the school?"
Silence dropped like glass.
Shane looked at Kiara—not pleading, not warning.
Just watching.
Waiting.
"I'm not choosing tonight," Kiara said calmly.
Mrs. Benson smiled thinly. "Then the world will choose for you."
She left without another word.
The door closed softly.
The echo lingered.
Shane exhaled. "I'm sorry."
Kiara shook her head. "She's not wrong."
That was the hardest part.
Later, as they stood near the counter, the space between them felt charged—tight with everything unsaid.
"You could step back," Kiara said suddenly. "From the shop. Let me fail or succeed on my own."
"I won't abandon you," Shane replied immediately.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know," he said. "But I won't disappear just to make things easier for others."
Her heart stuttered.
"Why?" she asked softly.
He met her gaze fully now. "Because I care."
There it was.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something undeniable.
The air thickened.
She could feel him—close, controlled, holding himself still.
"So do I," she admitted.
The words felt dangerous.
He didn't touch her.
Didn't close the distance.
That restraint was worse than any kiss.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly.
"I have to decide," Kiara whispered.
"Yes," he agreed. "And whatever you choose will cost you."
She nodded.
That night, Kiara sat alone in her room, books open, shop reports stacked beside her.
Two worlds.
Both demanding loyalty.
Her phone buzzed.
Lisa: You don't have to prove worth by suffering.
Lucas: Also, Eleanor's a menace. Just saying.
Kiara smiled faintly.
She opened her laptop and typed an email.
To Eleanor.
I am committed to this course. But I will not erase my life to make it comfortable for you. If that's a problem, say it now.
She hit send.
Then she turned to her shop ledger.
Balance teetering.
Deadlines looming.
And for the first time, she didn't feel torn.
She felt tested.
And she was starting to understand something dangerous and intoxicating—
Wanting love, ambition, and survival at the same time wasn't weakness.
It was rebellion.
And rebellion, she was learning, was where she felt most alive.
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