Semua Bab Hate You, Till I Don't : Bab 61 - Bab 70

POV: Blake The gym was eerily quiet compared to how it usually buzzed with life. The tech booths, once filled with sparks and energy, now stood still, covered in white tarps like forgotten memories. Everyone had gathered for the final stage reveal, and for once, Blake wasn't sure if he wanted to be here. He spotted Ave across the hall. She hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered, not during the whispers, not even when he purposely passed near her row—close enough to brush shoulders if she flinched. But she hadn’t. She just stood there like stone. He didn’t blame her. After all, he had kissed her. Then walked away. Just like she had done before. Blake clenched his jaw and looked away. The thought of her lips still haunted him—soft and trembling. That second kiss had been different. She’d kissed him back. Really back. With heat. With pain. With... something else. But the moment ended too fast. Now here they were—avoiding each other again, as if the kis

POV: Blake Blake never thought he’d care this much. Sure, he’d felt things before—flashes of attraction, brief sparks of something almost real. But nothing that burned like this. Nothing that made his stomach twist or his chest ache in that quiet, hollow kind of way. He used to be the king of chill. Smooth. Detached. A professional flirt with a talent for making girls feel seen without letting them ever see him. Feelings were liabilities, and Blake Hale didn’t do liabilities. But Ave? She was a walking contradiction to all his rules. And right now, she was laughing at something Ezra said, the sound sharp and bright, bouncing across the glass-paneled innovation lounge like a slap to the face. Blake stood near the archway, half-hidden by a structural beam, watching as Ezra leaned in. His hand rested casually on the back of the couch behind Ave, his smile easy, confident. Familiar. Ave tilted her head back, lips parted in laughter, one hand brushing Ezra’s wrist in that absent, n

POV: Blake & Ave (Dual POV) [Blake] There’s a certain kind of silence that falls before a storm — still, unnerving, expectant. That’s what the final build room felt like. Each finalist team had been assigned a private zone in the innovation chamber. Transparent walls. A single door. Cameras in every corner. Even the air smelled like electricity and pressure. Blake stood in front of the main screen, fingers twitching. Their presentation was in 24 hours. The prototype was almost done. Almost. And Ave still hadn’t told him the final encryption formula. He turned toward her. She was hunched over her laptop, lips moving silently, fingers gliding, her dark curls pinned up with a pencil. “Ave,” he said, voice tight. “We need to test the server lock. I can’t finalize the UI loop without your code.” She didn’t look up. “Five more minutes.” Blake exhaled. That was the third time in an hour. They were running out of time. And patience. “I’m serious,” he said louder. “

POV: AveAve showed up before the sun did.Not because she wanted to. Not even because she couldn’t sleep — though that was true. But because being in the lab, surrounded by circuits and code and the smell of burned plastic, was the only place where she didn’t have to think too hard about him.The keycard clicked softly. The lab was dark and hollow. Empty chairs, stray wires, a few half-used soldering tips scattered like fallen teeth across the table. The overhead lights buzzed reluctantly awake, one strip at a time.She set her bag down and didn’t bother with music. She didn’t deserve distraction. Just the whir of machines and the low hum of guilt hanging like smoke in the air.Ave walked past their old workstation without looking at it.But the chair scraped anyway. Her fingers reached before her brain could stop them, tugging their prototype toward her like a reflex. It was only half-assembled — a skeleton of an idea they hadn’t finished arguing over. His sketches still framed the

POV: AveThe wind carried a faint bite, like it hadn’t made up its mind between cold and warm. The sky was a bruised gray, low and restless. Ave stood on the rooftop of her dorm building, hoodie wrapped tight, hands buried deep in her pockets as she waited.Nia always came here when the world got too loud.And Ave… Ave needed silence too. Not the kind that filled her room when she was alone, but the kind that came with presence. With someone sitting beside you, not needing to speak, just being.That kind of silence only Nia understood.She didn’t have to wait long.A flash of red hair appeared at the stairwell door, followed by Nia’s usual oversized jacket and beat-up sneakers. She carried two thermal cups and a tired smile that reached her eyes the way few people’s ever did.“Brought tea,” Nia said simply, walking over.“Thanks.” Ave accepted the cup, fingers brushing hers. “Mint?”“Of course. You look like your brain’s in knots.”“Try full-on barbed wire,” Ave muttered.They sat on