The morning after Leo's confrontation with his parents, a new tension hung in the air—unspoken, but palpable.
He went through the motions: class, lunch, club, walk home. But every word felt heavier. Every glance lingered. Every second ticked louder than it should have.
Kai noticed. "Still no update?" he asked as they sat on the roof during lunch.
"Not yet. They're… giving me a week."
Kai whistled. "Pressure much?"
Leo gave a humorless smile. "Yeah."
"Want me to come home with you and pretend to be your irresponsible roommate to scare them off?"
Leo snorted. "That might actually make things worse."
---
Meanwhile, Rin had been quieter than usual.
They still walked together after club. Still sat side by side during literature meetings. But there was a softness in her that hadn't been there before—a carefulness, like she was afraid of pushing too hard.
Leo noticed.
And yet, neither of them brought it up.
That silence shattered on Thursday afternoon.
Leo was just leaving the library when he got a message from Kai:
> "Dude. Rin's mom is here. She's in the admin building. I just saw them."
Leo blinked.
That didn't make sense.
Rin had never mentioned her parents visiting.
His feet moved before his brain did.
---
He found Rin standing stiffly near the administrative office, face pale, shoulders tense.
Beside her stood a woman in a long beige coat, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. Her makeup was light but flawless, her eyes sharp behind narrow glasses.
This was not someone you wanted to upset.
"…Mom," Rin said quietly when she noticed Leo.
The woman turned.
Her gaze traveled from Leo's shoes to his face in less than a second. Measured. Calculating.
"So," she said. "You're Leo."
Leo swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
"You're the boy my daughter has been walking around campus with. Staying late in the library. Missing family calls for."
Rin flinched.
"I didn't know she was missing anything—"
"Of course you didn't." The woman's voice was smooth, but cold. "Because teenagers rarely think past their own noses."
"Mother—" Rin started.
"I'm speaking," she snapped.
Rin fell silent.
Leo's hands curled into fists. "I care about Rin. I'd never make her miss anything important."
"That's sweet," her mother said flatly. "But you're not her future."
A pause.
"You're a delay. A distraction."
Rin's voice rose. "That's not fair!"
Her mother turned sharply. "Isn't it? Do you think your little campus romance will last beyond high school? Do you think your father would've let this continue if he were alive?"
Silence.
Rin's whole body went still.
Leo felt the air turn thick.
"I'm not him," Rin whispered.
"No. You're not," her mother said. "He was focused. He had vision. You—you're throwing away everything we worked for. For what? A boy whose parents won't even let him stay?"
Leo took a step forward. "That's not true. I'm fighting to stay. Even if they don't approve."
"Admirable," Rin's mother said. "But misguided. My daughter has a scholarship waiting. A future. You can't give her what she needs."
"You don't get to decide what I need!" Rin finally snapped.
Her mother's eyes widened.
Leo looked between them, heart hammering.
"Rin," he said softly, "you don't have to choose now. But I'm not walking away from this. From you."
She turned to him.
And in that moment, everything else faded.
The halls. The whispers. Her mother's anger.
Just him and her.
Her eyes filled—but she didn't cry.
She just nodded.
"I know."
---
That evening, Rin didn't go home.
She sat with Leo under a streetlamp, sharing silence like oxygen.
"She thinks love is weakness," Rin said finally. "That it distracts you from your goals. She says my father used to be strong, before he fell in love."
Leo didn't know what to say.
So he reached out.
Held her hand.
"You're stronger with love," he said quietly. "Not weaker."
She looked at him.
And this time—she cried.
Not because she was broken.
But because, for the first time in a long time—she felt safe enough to be.