Alright, let's move forward cleanly
By afternoon, the campus had decided what it thought it knew.
Kiera didn't hear the rumors at first. She felt them.
They lived in the pauses that followed her steps, in the way conversations dipped when she passed, then rose again too quickly. They clung to glances—sideways looks, lingering stares, smiles that didn't quite reach the eyes.
The library moment with Shane—the shared silence, the almost-touch, the familiarity that surprised even them—had not gone unnoticed.
Nothing ever did.
She sat alone on the low stone wall near the arts building, notebook balanced on her knee, pretending to reread the same paragraph for the fifth time. Shane had stepped away to take a call, and the space beside her felt louder without him.
"Kiera."
She looked up.
Eliana stood a few feet away.
Of course.
Eliana had always carried herself like she belonged everywhere—chin lifted, posture effortless, beauty sharp in a way that didn't ask for permission. She was dressed immaculately, as usual, but today there was tension beneath it, like a string pulled too tight.
"I heard you were back," Eliana said.
Kiera closed her notebook. "I am."
A brief silence stretched between them. Not awkward—measured.
"And I heard," Eliana continued lightly, "that you and Shane are suddenly… inseparable."
There it was.
Kiera met her gaze. "People hear a lot of things."
Eliana smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They do. Especially when things happen in public spaces. Libraries. Quads. Walkways."
Kiera stood, slowly. "If you're asking whether there's something between us, you should ask him."
"Oh, I have," Eliana said softly. "He didn't deny it."
The words landed heavier than Kiera expected. Not because of doubt—because of finality.
"I just thought you should know," Eliana added, stepping closer, lowering her voice. "Shane doesn't stay in one place for long. He likes intensity. And when it fades…"
She shrugged.
Kiera's chest tightened, but her voice stayed calm. "Thanks for the warning."
Eliana searched her face, as if hoping to find insecurity there. When she didn't, something sharper flickered behind her eyes.
"Be careful," Eliana said, then turned and walked away.
Kiera exhaled only when she was gone.
By the time Shane returned, she had already rebuilt her composure, but he noticed anyway. He always did.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, then corrected herself. "Something. But not something I want to give power to."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."
They walked together toward the business faculty building, shoulders brushing again, that quiet intimacy acting like a shield against the noise around them.
But the noise was growing.
By evening, the rumors had sharpened.
That Kiera had come back to reclaim something.
That Shane had chosen sides.
That Eliana had been discarded.
That none of it was accidental.
In a small café just off campus, Kiera sat across from Lisa, stirring her drink without sipping it.
"People are talking," Lisa said gently.
Kiera laughed under her breath. "People always talk."
"Yes, but this time they're loud," Lisa said. "And messy. And unfair."
Kiera leaned back. "I can handle it."
Lisa tilted her head. "Can you?"
Before Kiera could answer, Lucas pushed through the café door, slightly out of breath.
"You're not going to like this," he said.
Kiera's stomach dropped. "What now?"
"Eliana posted," Lucas replied. "Not directly. But enough that everyone knows who she means."
He slid his phone across the table.
The post was short. Elegant. Dangerous.
Some people mistake nostalgia for destiny. Be careful what you resurrect.
Kiera stared at the screen.
"It doesn't say my name," Lisa said quickly. "Or Shane's."
"But it doesn't have to," Kiera replied.
The post had already gathered attention—likes, comments, speculation blooming in real time.
"She wants a reaction," Lucas said. "That's the point."
Kiera pushed the phone back. "She won't get one."
But later that night, alone in her room, the calm cracked.
She paced, replaying conversations, glances, moments that suddenly felt exposed. Being seen with Shane no longer felt private—it felt political.
Her phone buzzed.
Shane:Can I come over?
She hesitated only a second before replying yes.
When he arrived, she didn't greet him with words. She stepped into him, pressing her forehead to his chest, breathing him in like an anchor.
"They're tearing it apart," she murmured.
He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. "Let them."
She pulled back to look at him. "What if this costs you something?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then, quietly, "What if it costs me more to walk away?"
Her throat tightened.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I'm not confused, Kiera. I know what I'm choosing."
"And if it gets worse?"
"It will," he said honestly. "That's what happens when things matter."
Silence settled between them, thick but not heavy.
Then he leaned in, slow, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
The kiss wasn't desperate. It was deliberate. A decision made with full awareness of consequence.
When they parted, her hands were trembling.
"This changes things," she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "And I'm not pretending it doesn't."
Outside, campus lights flickered on one by one, illuminating pathways where rumors walked freely.
Inside, two people chose each other anyway.
And somewhere else, jealousy hardened into resolve—quiet, patient, and far from finished.