chapter four: Tangled threads.

Natasha practically fled the scene, leaving Michael standing there, confused.

For the rest of the week, they avoided each other in class. Natasha stayed with her clique, while Michael kept to his art friends. The tension between them was thick and awkward—and their project began to suffer.

Michael tried to talk to her after class.

“Natasha, we need to talk,” he said.

She turned to him with a look of disgust, then immediately faced Maya.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to be surrounded by bad energy.”

And just like that, she walked away with her friends.

Michael stood there, gripping his sketchbook tightly.

What’s her problem? he wondered.

At home, dinner was tense.

Natasha’s parents pushed harder, their patience clearly running out.

Then her father dropped the bomb.

“Natasha, Arjun Jason will escort you to the Winter Gala. We’ve finalized the plans,” he said coldly.

Natasha’s grip on her chopsticks tightened.

“I won’t go.”

Her mother’s voice turned icy. “You will. This is bigger than your feelings.”

Natasha pushed her chair back and stood.

“I’ll run away before I marry him.”

Silence fell over the table.

Her father’s face darkened as he stood.

“You are a Lee. And Lees do whatever it takes to protect their family’s reputation,” he said firmly. “You will do what’s best for this family.”

With that, he walked out.

Natasha’s heart pounded.

That night, she slipped out of the house, quickly texting Maya:

I need to get out. Now.

Meanwhile, Michael stayed up sketching until midnight, his thoughts drifting back to her.

“Why is Natasha so mad at me?” he muttered.

Eventually, Natasha and Michael finished their class project, both exhausted from weeks of tension and avoidance.

Their presentation went smoothly, and they let out a shared breath of relief.

Outside the classroom, Maya and Alex were waiting, grinning.

“Time to celebrate! Dinner and games at the loft!” Alex announced.

Natasha hesitated, but Michael nodded casually.

“Sounds good.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

The loft was alive with music, pizza, and laughter.

Natasha’s clique and Michael’s friends blended surprisingly well, as if they’d known each other for years.

At some point, Maya pulled out a truth-or-dare box.

“Ooooh, let’s play!”

The game quickly got wild—people laughing, confessing, and doing ridiculous dares.

When it was Natasha’s turn, she chose truth.

Alex leaned forward with a smirk. “What’s something you hate the most?”

Natasha’s eyes flickered, but she answered honestly.

“I hate being forced into things. I really hate it.”

Michael’s expression softened.

“Yeah… me too.”

Their eyes met for a moment—something unspoken passing between them—before they both looked away.

Later that night, the group decided to head to the beach.

They gathered around a bonfire, the waves crashing softly behind them.

Michael pulled out his sketchbook, quickly sketching silhouettes of their friends.

Natasha leaned closer, her hair brushing against his.

“You’re actually talented,” she said quietly.

Michael smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Their faces were inches apart.

The air shifted.

As the fire crackled and the ocean hummed in the background, Natasha felt his warmth beside her. Neither of them spoke, but their eyes kept finding each other.

One by one, their friends drifted off to sleep.

Soon, it was just the two of them—alone in a charged silence.

The firelight danced across Michael’s face, making him look almost unreal.

He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re different tonight.”

Natasha swallowed. “How?”

“You’re not running.”

His words lingered between them.

“What are you running from, Natasha?”

Her throat tightened.

She didn’t answer—but something in her eyes told him everything.

Suddenly, Michael stood and held out his hand.

“Come on. Let’s walk.”

Natasha hesitated for a second… then took it.

A small jolt ran through her as their hands touched.

They walked along the shore, the cool sand beneath their feet, waves brushing against their ankles.

Michael stopped, staring out at the ocean.

“I like this.”

Natasha tilted her head. “The beach?”

He turned to her, his eyes steady.

“No… this.”

Her heart skipped.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

The silence wrapped around them, filled only with the sound of the waves… and their breathing.