The university cafeteria was unusually quiet for a Monday afternoon. Tension hung in the air like storm clouds too afraid to break.
Ronan sat at the far corner table, black hoodie pulled low over his head, fists clenched around his coffee cup. He hadn't touched it.
Aria spotted him instantly and moved toward him, weaving through stares and whispers like they were bullets.
"Ronan," she said gently, sliding into the seat across from him.
His jaw tightened. "They suspended me from practice."
She swallowed. "What did they say happened?"
"They won't even tell me exactly what I'm being accused of. Just that someone filed an anonymous complaint claiming I threatened a student… off campus."
Her voice went cold. "It was Liam."
Ronan didn't say anything, but his knuckles turned white.
"He's trying to ruin you because he can't control me anymore."
"Then he picked the wrong fight."
"No," she said firmly. "He picked both of us."
That afternoon, Aria marched into the Office of Student Integrity. Her voice didn't shake. Her spine didn't bend.
"I want to submit a formal statement," she said. "And I want to attach evidence."
She gave them everything. The photos. The text messages. The note in the envelope. She even showed them her bruised wrist from the night she shoved Liam off her at the party.
The administrator, Ms. Kayler, frowned. "Why didn't you come forward sooner?"
"Because I was scared," Aria said. "But I'm not anymore."
Ms. Kayler looked at her like she'd just grown steel bones.
"We'll reopen the investigation," she said. "And until then, we'll freeze the complaint against Mr. Wolfe."
Ronan was waiting outside the admin building when she came out.
She nodded at him. "It's done."
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did," she cut in. "You've always fought for everyone. Let someone fight for you."
Something in his eyes shifted—something she rarely saw.
Hope.
That night, they ended up in her dorm. Her roommate Maddie had gone home for the weekend, leaving them the space and silence they needed.
Aria painted for the first time in days. Ronan lay on her bed, watching her with a strange kind of awe.
"Why are you staring?" she asked, smiling, her hands stained with teal and charcoal gray.
"Because you're a storm when you create. And I've always loved storms."
She turned slowly. "You used to say you didn't believe in love."
"I didn't," he said honestly. "Until you."
She stepped closer, paintbrush still in hand. "Say that again."
He sat up, reached for her waist, and pulled her in. "Until you."
She leaned down and kissed him, slow and sure, like she was sealing a promise on his lips.
Days passed.
The hearing date was set. A week from now. Ronan would have the chance to defend himself officially. Aria would testify.
But Liam wasn't done.
That Friday, she found her art studio vandalized.
Her canvases slashed. Paint thrown across the walls. Her sketchbook torn in half.
Scrawled in red on the back wall were the words:
"You're nothing without me."
Ronan arrived within minutes of her call.
He didn't ask questions. He just pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. Angry, broken sobs that shook her whole body.
When she finally looked up, he kissed her forehead and said, "We're reporting this too. I'm not letting him destroy what you've built."
"But it was my art, Ronan. It was mine—"
"I know, baby. And we'll rebuild it. Together."
Security cameras caught Liam leaving the studio at 2 a.m. that morning. The proof was undeniable.
By Monday, Liam was suspended indefinitely. The school launched a full investigation.
And Ronan's name was cleared.
The baseball team welcomed him back with half-hearted slaps and silent nods. Not everyone liked him, but they respected him now—because he hadn't crumbled.
Carter waited for him by the lockers.
"Dude," he said, "I've seen you win games. But this?"
Ronan grinned faintly. "This one felt personal."
Carter glanced at the door where Aria was waiting. "She's the real MVP."
"Always has been."
Finals came fast.
Aria studied harder than ever, driven by equal parts fury and focus. Her professors, impressed by her resilience, offered extensions on her projects. She declined most of them.
"I want to finish strong," she told them. "I want to end this chapter."
Ronan passed his exams too. Barely. But he did it. For her. For himself.
On the last day of the semester, Aria presented her final art project: a mixed media piece titled Resilience.
It featured shredded sketchbook pages, stitched back together with red thread. Over them, a portrait of a girl with storm clouds for eyes and flowers blooming from her ribs.
Her professor cried. The class stood.
Later, Ronan whispered, "She looks like you."
"She is me," Aria said. "But stronger."
That night, they walked back to the rooftop where it all began.
Ronan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. The stars stretched above them, bold and bright.
"I used to think this place was just an escape," he murmured.
"And now?"
"Now it's a beginning."
She leaned into him. "So where do we go from here?"
"Anywhere we want," he said. "As long as you're beside me."
They kissed.
Not like it was a secret.
Not like it was fragile.
But like it was theirs.
And for the first time, neither of them felt like a shadow.
They were light.
Together.