Valentine's Week at St. Ivy High was supposed to be full of sparkle.
Class 1-A was anything but.
The school still wore red paper hearts like Armor—taped on lockers, strung in the hallways, drawn in glittery ink on every club flyer. A dozen girls were busy swapping chocolates and letters. Some brave boys tried confession notes. Half ended in polite rejections. The rest in panicked "just friends" agreements.
And Jay's desk?
Full of chocolates but there is no one to pick them
Still empty.
Somehow, that was louder than any love letter ever written.
Sofia Hart sat backwards on her chair during lunch break, long legs stretched, twirling a strawberry lollipop with one hand and scrolling her feed with the other.
"Valentine's week feels cursed this year," she said, tapping through anonymous posts. "We've had exactly zero good confessions and three broken couples. I should start selling tissues."
Tyler was halfway through a rice ball. "You could make bank."
Luna didn't look up from her sketchpad. "There's a rumor someone cried in the science lab yesterday."
Sofia blinked. "See? Cursed. We need an exorcism."
Noah spun around dramatically. "Or…"
He raised a hand like a prophet.
"A party."
Sofia grinned. "Noah, for once in your life, we're in sync."
Later that day, during last period, Sofia leaned over to Emma's desk with a practiced smirk.
"Valentine's after-party. My place. Saturday night. Be there."
Emma didn't look up from her notebook. "Is this a real event, or one of your chaotic summoning rituals?"
"Yes."
"I'll think about it."
"No thinking allowed. Just show up and bring snacks."
Emma sighed but didn't say no.
That was a win in Sofia's book.
The rest of the week passed with forced smiles and awkward hallway moments. Everyone was acting like things were normal—like a certain flirty classmate hadn't vanished without a word two months ago.
No one said Jay's name.
Not aloud.
But everyone noticed when people glanced at his desk just a second too long. When someone paused at the group photo near the classroom board and looked away quickly. When Amaya quietly placed a chocolate on her own desk and left one wrapped next to an empty chair.
Emma didn't comment.
But she saw.
And it sat heavy in her chest.
Saturday arrived.
Sofia's house was already glowing pink from the outside—thanks to discount LED strips she claimed were "aesthetic" and "probably fire safe."
Inside, speakers thumped with bass-heavy love songs. There were heart-shaped balloons on the ceiling. A snack bar with soda, chocolate, and half-melted ice cream. And in the center of it all—Sofia, rocking a cropped hoodie, high-waisted jeans, and a temporary glitter tattoo that said "Love is Chaos."
"Welcome to the land of bad choices!" she declared as guests trickled in.
Tyler arrived with Miles, already talking about rewatching the last World Cup highlights.
Noah walked in like he owned the room. "Where's my dramatic lighting?"
Luna sat in the corner with her sketchbook, sketching the guests like it was a live show.
And Emma?
She stood at the doorway for three full minutes before walking in.
She wore black jeans and a dark red blouse, simple but sharp. Her hair was up. Her expression unreadable.
Sofia met her with a mock bow. "Our queen of intellect graces us with her presence."
"If someone plays 'Truth or Dare,' I'm leaving."
"Relax. It's PG-13 tonight."
Emma raised one brow. "PG-13 according to your scale?"
"Let's not define things."
The first hour passed in harmless chaos.
There were games.
Uno. Guess-the-crush. Love-letter roulette.
Noah tried to write a sonnet in five minutes using only candy heart phrases. It ended with "Be mine / but also pay my rent."
Sofia flirted with three people in under twenty minutes but kept circling back to Emma.
"Why do you keep hovering?" Emma asked finally.
Sofia popped a pink marshmallow in her mouth. "You're the only one who doesn't play along."
"That's because I don't lie well."
"Mmm. Maybe that's why he liked talking to you."
Emma's eyes flicked toward her. "Who?"
Sofia didn't answer.
Halfway through the party, someone dimmed the lights.
The music softened.
A slow song crept into the speakers—sweet, melodic, cruel.
Tyler and Iris started dancing. Miles grabbed two sodas and pretended he was double-fisting cocktails. Even Luna looked up, slightly curious.
Sofia turned to Emma. "Dance?"
Emma blinked. "With you?"
"Why not?"
Emma considered it… then shook her head. "I don't feel like pretending tonight."
Sofia smiled.
But it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You and me both."
An hour later, the music picked up again. The lights returned to chaotic pink. But something in the air had shifted.
Sofia stood at the edge of the room, leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand.
One of the second-years walked up, smiling. Cute enough. Confident.
"So… you wanna dance?"
She looked over his shoulder, out the window. The stars blinked quietly.
Jay would've teased her for hesitating. Told her she was getting soft.
She forced a grin.
"Sorry," she said. "Not tonight."
He left with a shrug.
Sofia watched him go.
Later, as the night died down, she found Emma sitting alone on the couch, holding a half-empty can of soda like it was a bomb waiting to go off.
Sofia sat next to her, not saying anything.
The silence stretched between them like an invisible string.
Then Emma said:
"You ever think about what would've happened if he stayed?"
Sofia answered without looking at her.
"I think about what didn't happen."
Emma nodded once.
They didn't say anything else for a long time.
But that was okay.
Because tonight wasn't about answers.
Just surviving the absence.