Chapter Twenty Nine

Dominic’s Pov

It had been three hours since the news about the embassies reaching the airport had spread through the school.

I couldn’t stop glancing at the gates every few seconds, my heart hammering in my chest. Almost a month without Catherine, and now she was finally coming back.

I adjusted my glasses, trying to focus on whatever Mr. Kennedy, the physics teacher, was droning on about—but the words just floated past me.

“Man, calm down! You’re making me nervous too!” Patrick jabbed my wrist with his pen.

“I… I can’t,” I mumbled.

Ever since Alice told me what Catherine had said, I barely slept, constantly checking my reflection, wondering if I looked like a complete fool.

“They’re here!”

The words erupted from my classmates. They surged to the windows, some jumping in excitement. My legs froze under the desk.

A gasp. “Wow… she’s so pretty.”

“She cut her hair.”

The words hit me like a punch. I forced my legs apart and finally looked—but she was already gone.

Footsteps pounded as everyone rushed out. Mr. Kennedy stared, frozen, but it didn’t matter. The halls were already chaotic. I pushed myself up, sprinting down the corridor after the flow of students.

The hall speakers blared: “Move slowly to the auditorium!”

Guards stood at the entrance, barricading the students. Prefects lined the aisle, school committee members flanked the hall, and even the cheerleaders burst from both entrances, dancing and waving. My lungs felt like they’d locked shut.

Footsteps pounded.

The doors were pushed apart, two bulky guards holding them open.

She stepped in.

In school uniform—the one no one wore anymore. A wide smile plastered on her face as she talked and pointed animatedly. Five men followed behind her, nodding and smiling at whatever she was saying.

“Miss Catherine Young!” some juniors screamed.

The chant spread fast. Too fast.

She stopped, laughing, waving, bowing repeatedly like she didn’t know what to do with all the noise.

“Dude, take a picture.” Patrick tapped my shoulder, his phone already out.

I fumbled for mine, hands shaking as I lifted it, trying to capture the light in her eyes.

She lifted one leg slightly and posed, the embassies right behind her, amused and impressed.

I clicked.

I stared at the screen.

Her eyes were looking straight at me.

My heart slammed. I lifted my gaze to confirm—but she was already moving toward the auditorium.

Camera angle, I told myself.

Bodies surged past me, bumping, shoving. I pushed through them.

“Settle down, everyone!” the principal committee shouted, waving students into seats.

I stayed standing.

If I sat, I’d miss something.

She looked different.

Not just better—dangerously better.

The haircut framed her face too perfectly, like it had always been meant for her.

Cameras were being set up. Staff moved frantically, whispering into headsets and adjusting cables—but my eyes never left her.

She guided the men to their seats, leaned in to speak to them, then crossed the hall to instruct the tech team on how she wanted the stream handled. They nodded like she owned the place.

Over a thousand students fell into a hush, phones lifted, flashes blinking.

Catherine Young was that girl.

And I was just… me.

Everyone wanted her—okay, maybe not everyone—but definitely more than half the boys in this school.

Yeah, she chose me. I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe that.

But what if this meeting she asked for… was just to break up with me in private?

Stupid.

“Good morning, school,” the principal greeted.

“Good morning, Ma,” the hall chorused.

“I’m truly honored to stand here today. Due to our outstanding academic achievements and performance over the past few years, our school has been chosen as a model institution representing the importance of education in society.”

Applause followed, polite but expectant.

“As much as I would love to go into detail about how this impacts each of you,” she continued, smiling, “please give it up for the one student who single-handedly convinced all five embassies’ visit to our school. Our one and only—”

She pointed.

“Catherine Young.”

The hall exploded.

Claps thundered, cheers rang out, phones rose higher. Catherine looked momentarily stunned before breaking into a laugh, rushing forward to hug the principal. She stepped up to the microphone, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

And somehow, even in a room full of noise—

She still felt impossibly out of reach.

“Good morning, everybody.”

Her voice trembled slightly with laughter.

At first, I thought she was just being playful—until I noticed the posters some of the juniors were holding.

BLACKPINK CALLED… THEY WANT THEIR ROSÉ BACK.

“So, most of you already know,” she continued, grinning, “but just in case you don’t, I am…”

“Miss Catherine Young!” the hall echoed.

I knew she was popular, but this?

This was insane.

The teachers must have trained the juniors to hype this event.

“Wow. That’s impressive,” she laughed, shaking her head. “First of all, I want to appreciate every single student in this school for their hard work and effort. But it would be selfish of me to talk about doing exceptionally well in school because…” She paused dramatically. “I got an E in my last result.”

The hall burst into laughter.

Not the mocking kind.

The warm, supportive kind.

“I would like to call Hayden Gordon.”

Applause followed as he rushed onto the stage. Catherine pulled him into a quick hug before stepping aside for him to speak.

I barely listened.

She kept calling names—students from different clubs, departments, and teams—giving everyone a moment in the spotlight. She made it look easy. Like she genuinely cared.

By the time the drama club left the stage, my chest felt strangely tight.

“School would never be complete without football,” she continued. “The team and the coach have become family. They give us something to believe in every week, every event, every cheer.”

She smiled.

“Please put your hands together as I call on Asher and his team.”

My stomach dropped.

Asher climbed onto the stage with a few teammates. The cheers grew louder. He walked straight to Catherine and leaned in for a hug.

She smiled.

And hugged him back.

But his arms stayed around her longer than necessary.

Too long.

My fingers curled against my shirt.

He finally pulled away and took the microphone.

Asher adjusted the microphone, flashing that effortless smile that always made teachers trust him and girls swoon.

“Wow,” he chuckled. “Didn’t expect this kind of welcome. Thank you.”

More cheers.

He glanced at Catherine.

“First, I want to thank our amazing host.” He gestured toward her. “None of this would have happened without her. Seriously. She worked so hard for this event.”

She smiled politely and nodded.

“But beyond that…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck like he was shy. “Catherine has always been special. Not just smart. Not just beautiful. But… real.”

My jaw tightened.

“She supports everyone. She believes in people—even when they don’t believe in themselves.”

He looked at her again.

Longer this time.

“And I’m grateful I get to stand here with her today.”

The hall erupted.

Girls screamed. Boys whistled.

I couldn’t tell if my ears were ringing or if it was just my blood rushing too fast.

Catherine laughed awkwardly, waving her hands. “Okay, okay, enough.”

But she didn’t step away.

Asher leaned closer to the mic.

“On behalf of the football team, we promise to keep making you proud. To represent this school the best way we can.”

He raised his fist.

“For Catherine. For the school. For all of you.”

Cheers exploded again.

He handed the mic back to her.

Before walking away…

He whispered something in her ear.

She froze for half a second.

Then laughed.

And lightly punched his arm.

My chest burned.

Patrick leaned toward me. “Bro… am I the only one feeling some kind of vibe there?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because all I could think was—

What if she has not moved on?