March 30 – Evening / Jay's Apartment
The Glow That Stayed
Jay sat in the corner of his living room, half-curled on the couch, hoodie draped over his head like a blanket shielding him from thought. The lights were off. The room was dim. Only the aquarium ticket stub sat visible on the coffee table—soft and bent at the corners from his nervous pocketing.
He'd never thought a place like that could feel so…
Light.
Not the kind that came from ceiling bulbs or ocean tanks. Something deeper.
Her words kept echoing.
"I don't know what you're going through…
I don't know what you'll do…
But I know you."
No one had ever said it like that. No one had meant it like that.
Jay rubbed his hand down his face.
It wasn't that Emma knew everything. She didn't.
But somehow—she still saw him. Not the heir. Not the actor. Just… Jay.
That single line, "You're allowed to be happy," had landed harder than anything Clara had said, or Reginald had threatened.
He stood, slowly.
Walked over to the window.
The city lights glittered like stars poured upside down across the street.
And for once, the weight in his chest didn't drag him down.
It told him one thing:
Start again.
Jay took a breath.
A real one.
He grabbed his school jacket, his notes, his bag. Cleaned the mess off his table. Opened his laptop and reviewed his test syllabus.
And just before sleep claimed him, he whispered:
"…I'm back."
Return to Rhythm
Monday's energy was sharper than usual. Final exams had officially entered the school's bloodstream.
Jay walked into Class 1-A five minutes early, hair slightly tousled, smile lazily confident.
Tyler's jaw dropped. "Bro. Who are you and where's the guy who ghosted us in February?"
Jay slung his bag over the chair. "That guy's resting. I'm here to reclaim the throne."
Sofia perked up immediately. "Ooh, it's confident-Jay season again? About time."
Emma looked up from her seat, quiet as usual—but when Jay's eyes met hers, she didn't look away.
She smiled.
And so did he.
The Big Announcement
Mr. Brooks entered the classroom like a man walking toward doom—coffee in one hand, a folder stack in the other.
"Everyone, take a seat," he muttered. "It's time."
The room quieted.
"Final exams begin in two weeks," he said flatly. "Which means you'll spend this week pretending to study, next week cramming, and the day before panicking. Don't disappoint me."
Groans filled the air.
Brooks dropped the folders with a dramatic thud. "This year includes a practical exam, worth 40% of your score. You'll be doing it in pairs."
Whispers exploded instantly.
"Don't panic yet," Brooks said. "You pick your own partner. But once submitted, you're locked in."
Sofia spun in her seat to face Jay.
Emma froze.
Amaya looked down at her lap.
Yuki… was already scribbling in her notebook.
Brooks clapped twice. "You have until tomorrow morning. Choose wisely. Or don't. I don't care who crashes and burns."
He left before anyone could ask questions.
Sparks and Sidesteps
By lunchtime, all of Class 1-A had turned into a tactical battlefield.
Jay stood near the lockers, just watching the chaos unfold.
"Yo," Tyler said, sidling up. "Is Iris out for pairing?"
Jay blinked. "She's in Class 1-C."
"Damn," Tyler sighed. "Right."
Jay grinned. "You forgot your own girlfriend's homeroom?"
"I know where her heart is," Tyler replied. "Geography's not my strong suit."
A voice cut in from behind. "If you can't get your girlfriend, you get me."
Both boys turned.
Miles Everett stood there, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed.
Tyler narrowed his eyes. "You serious?"
"No one else left," Miles said. "Unless you want to do it with Luna and end up analyzing colour palettes for ten slides."
Jay grinned. "I'd pay to watch that."
Tyler sighed. "Fine. But you better not sabotage me."
"No promises."
Jay watched them argue their way to lunch—loudly—and felt the tension in his shoulders slip just a little.
Options and Observations
Emma passed him once in the hallway, eyes uncertain.
Sofia passed him twice—once with a wink, once with a raised eyebrow.
Amaya walked by but didn't say anything.
And still…
Jay didn't move yet.
He had until tomorrow.
And maybe—just maybe—this time he'd choose not by pressure, but by instinct.