I didn't reply to Selene.
That felt like a small victory, even if it was a fragile one.
By the time my last class ended, the sky had softened into late afternoon gold. Campus buzzed with voices and laughter, but I moved through it like a ghost, my thoughts still tangled in words I hadn't heard yet. It wasn't the whole story. The sentence looped in my mind, unfinished and sharp.
I told myself secrets only have power when you let them speak.
Still, I took the long way back to my dorm.
I was almost there when I saw Noah again.
He leaned against the brick wall near the entrance, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively relaxed. Like he hadn't been standing there rehearsing things he wouldn't say. Like he hadn't been waiting.
I stopped walking.
For a second, neither of us moved. Students passed between us, laughter spilling into the space we refused to fill.
"Aria," he said finally.
My name still sounded wrong in his mouth.
"I don't have time," I replied, even though we both knew that wasn't true.
"I won't take much," he said. Then, quieter, "Please."
That word used to undo me.
Now it just made my shoulders tense.
"You already said what you needed to say," I told him. "Back in the hallway."
His jaw tightened. "No. I said what was easy."
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. "That's new."
He flinched, and I hated that part of myself noticed.
"Selene texted you," he said.
The ground shifted beneath my feet. "How do you—"
"She told me she would," he interrupted. "I told her not to."
Anger sparked, fast and bright. "You don't get to manage the damage anymore, Noah."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm asking you to hear me. Just once. No excuses. No rewriting."
Silence stretched.
Somewhere behind us, a door slammed. Life kept going.
"You don't get closure just because you want it," I said.
"I'm not asking for closure," he replied. "I'm asking for honesty."
That was worse.
I crossed my arms, a shield I'd perfected. "You have two minutes."
He nodded, like he understood the gift for what it was.
"What happened that night," he began, then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. "I thought I was protecting you."
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. "That's what everyone says when they're lying."
"I didn't tell you because I was afraid," he admitted. "Not of losing you—of losing the version of you that still trusted me."
That one landed.
"Selene knew," he continued. "She knew before you did. And she used it."
My heart beat louder. "Used what?"
He looked at me then, really looked at me. "The truth."
I felt the world narrow, the way it does before something breaks.
Before he could say more, a voice cut through the space between us.
"Hey, Aria."
I turned.
Liam stood a few steps away, backpack slung over one shoulder, concern written plainly across his face. He glanced at Noah, then back at me, reading the tension without needing context.
"Sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to return this." He held up the pen I'd borrowed earlier, the one I hadn't realized I'd kept.
"Thanks," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Noah straightened. "We're in the middle of something."
Liam didn't rise to it. "I can see that."
Then, to me: "You okay?"
The question was simple. The answer wasn't.
I looked between them—past and present standing uncomfortably close. One filled with unfinished sentences. The other offering space.
"I need air," I said.
Liam nodded immediately. "I'll walk you."
Noah's expression tightened. "Aria—"
"Not now," I said. Not angry. Final.
I walked away before I could change my mind.
As Liam fell into step beside me, I didn't look back.
But I felt it.
The pull. The fracture. The sense that whatever Selene was hiding, whatever Noah hadn't said yet—it wasn't going to stay buried.
Some truths don't wait to be invited.
And I had the feeling mine was already on its way.