MasukMONICAProm night ended in a blur of glitter and music that lingered too long in my ears, the kind that makes your head buzz even after the lights go out. Damian and I drove home in near silence, just letting the city noise wrap around us, his hand occasionally brushing mine but neither of us making it official. When we finally got to my doorstep, he stopped and looked at me, tired eyes glinting in the streetlight.“That was… intense,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” I agreed softly, trying to read him. “Are you… really okay with me accepting the program abroad?” He shrugged like it was nothing, but I saw the tiny flicker of worry in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”“I… I just… I don’t know what it would mean for us,” I said, twisting the strap of my dress nervously. “I don’t want you thinking I’d leave you behind or that I care more about this stupid program than… us.”He shook his head, stepping closer. “Monica, I’m okay with it. Actually…” He hesitated, and my hear
MONICA “You came,” I said into his suit, voice muffled. "I thought you'd bail."He pulled back slightly to look at me. “On prom night?” he said, almost offended. “That’s insane.”“I didn’t know,” I admitted. “You’ve been…”“Quiet,” he finished.“Yeah.”He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear gently. “You look beautiful.” I swallowed. “I didn’t expect you to come.” He frowned slightly. “Monica.”“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “For everything. For not telling you sooner. For making you feel like—” He shook his head. “It’s fine.”“It’s not.”“It is,” he insisted softly. “We’ll figure it out. Not tonight.”I searched his face for cracks but all I saw was sincerity and something else underneath it. Determination maybe. “Okay,” I whispered.He opened the passenger door for me with a small bow. “After you.”The drive to prom felt shorter than usual. My nerves shifted from fear to excitement, bubbling under my skin. When we pulled up, the venue looked unreal. Lights draped from the ceiling li
MONICA “You came,” I said into his suit, voice muffled. "I thought you'd bail."He pulled back slightly to look at me. “On prom night?” he said, almost offended. “That’s insane.”“I didn’t know,” I admitted. “You’ve been…”“Quiet,” he finished.“Yeah.”He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear gently. “You look beautiful.” I swallowed. “I didn’t expect you to come.” He frowned slightly. “Monica.”“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “For everything. For not telling you sooner. For making you feel like—” He shook his head. “It’s fine.”“It’s not.”“It is,” he insisted softly. “We’ll figure it out. Not tonight.”I searched his face for cracks but all I saw was sincerity and something else underneath it. Determination maybe. “Okay,” I whispered.He opened the passenger door for me with a small bow. “After you.”The drive to prom felt shorter than usual. My nerves shifted from fear to excitement, bubbling under my skin. When we pulled up, the venue looked unreal. Lights draped from the ceiling li
MONICA She looked at me for a second like she wanted to argue, then just nodded and moved to the next table. It was hard. Harder than I expected. Not physically. Not really. It was the restraint. The swallowing pride. The constant polite smile even when someone acted like you were beneath them.And the worst part? Monica did this regularly. The thought sat heavy in my chest. She shouldn’t have to deal with half of this. A guy in front of me intentionally acted like a jerk about his order. “No, I said almond milk,” he insisted loudly, even though I’d heard him say regular. “Do you even listen?”“I’m sorry for the confusion,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I’ll remake it.” He smirked like he’d won something.I walked to the back again, hands shaking slightly now, and splashed cold water on my face. For a split second I imagined grabbing him by the collar. For a split second I imagined not caring about consequences.Then I exhaled slowly. This is the distraction. Don’t ruin it. When I
GABRIELEarlier.I almost tracked them. I had my phone in my hand, Wayne’s stupid smug face still burned in to my brain from the pic, from the way he looked at her like she was a trophy he’d already won, and for a second I genuinely considered it, just tracking them, just seeing where they went, just making sure he didn’t touch her in a way that would make me lose control, but instead I threw my phone on my bed and opened my laptop and stared at the project Monica and I had to finish, because numbers they were safer than jealousy, and if I focused hard enough maybe the image of Wayne’s lips on hers would blur out.“Focus,” I muttered to myself, dragging a hand down my face. “It’s just a project.” It wasn’t just a project. It was the only thing stopping me from doing something stupid.So I worked. I read every article twice. I rewrote the introduction three times. I fixed the formatting like it personally offended me. I kept my head down and my tone normal, like I hadn’t imagined punch
ZOEY Beep.Beep.I keep staring at the ceiling. “It’s not uncommon after traumatic events,” he continues. “Especially if there are triggers involved.”Triggers. That’s a cute word for it. He says something about stress management. About therapy. About monitoring. I don’t really hear it. The beeping is louder than him. It’s distracting. It’s irritating. I focus on that instead.Beep.Beep.Beep.I turn my head slightly and see the IV in my wrist. Clear liquid dripping slowly into me. Making me feel floaty. Dull. My phone is on the table beside the bed. I grab it. There are too many notifications. I ignore most of them.Wayne: Where are you?Wayne: You disappeared.Wayne: I can come pick you up.I stare at his name for a second then lock the phone and turn to the other side. I feel tired. Not sleepy. Just drained. Like someone unplugged me.Then I remember something. Hospitals give good stuff. The kind that makes everything quiet. The kind that smooths the edges off your brain.I sit u
DAMIANI swear the last period always feels like someone glued time to the floor and forced it to crawl because they thought it was fun.The boys were already whining like hungry dogs before the bell even rang, Dominic stretching across his desk like he was dying, “Bro I’m starving, I’m actually se
DAMIANBoyfriend.That word hit me like a baseball bat to the jaw.Before I could breathe, before I could even say her name again, she grabbed Gabriel’s arm, like she actually wanted him—and he followed her, his hand settling on the small of her back as they walked out through the double doors, lea
DAMIAN That dress wasn’t her. That look in her eyes wasn’t her. That discomfort wasn’t her. My Monica didn’t dress like she was begging for attention. She didn’t cling to boys. She didn’t act like a doll hanging off some bastard’s arm. She was doing it for one reason. To get at me. And I des
DAMIAN Walking into school the next morning felt like stepping into a punch I already saw coming but still couldn’t dodge. I barely slept. My brain kept replaying Monica telling me to leave, her eyes bright with tears she refused to let fall. It messed me up in a way that made my chest feel swollen







