Kant lay in his room, the pale moonlight leaking through the half-drawn curtains and casting soft lines across his bed. The night was quiet—too quiet. The only sound was the hum of the ceiling fan overhead and the occasional distant bark of a dog somewhere in the neighborhood.
He shifted under the blanket, pulling the sheets over his body and tucking them around himself as if to block out the uncertainty gnawing at the edge of his thoughts. He rested his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, his dark lashes barely blinking. His mind was far from sleep.
He thought about Marin.
He had seen the look in her eyes earlier this evening—not just sadness, but something else. A quiet ache. A longing to fit in, maybe even a desperation to feel normal. And he couldn't deny that it struck a chord in him. Marin had always been the composed one, the calm one, the polite daughter of the mayor who never made trouble or never stepped out of line.
But tonight… something had shifted in her.
When she asked him—or rather, confided in him—about the party, about how others saw her, he hadn't expected it. Not from her. And though he gave her the best answer he could in that moment, he knew deep down that his words wouldn't be enough. So when she brought it up again, timid and nervous, he had simply nodded.
"If it's gonna be a safe party with friends… you can go."
And now here he was, staring into the dark, wondering if he'd made the right call.
He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed into the silence.
Was it safe? Would she be okay? What if she ended up staying too late and Madam Rowena notices her absence?
What if her plan to fit in makes her do something out of hand?
Kant was no fool. He'd heard things about the kinds of parties some of the teenagers in Heldale hosted. Behind their polished lifestyle and rich surnames were reckless kids with too much freedom and too little responsibilities. Marin didn't belong in that world.
And yet… maybe that was exactly why she wanted to go.
Kant turned onto his side, pulling the pillow tighter under his head.
He thought about their lives—about how different they'd always been from everyone else in town. The children of Mayor Ronald weren't exactly allowed the luxury of being "normal." And even if they were, there was always something in the way their family lived… something rigid, distant.
Marin didn't have close friends. He knew that even though she tried to tag along with girls from her cheerleading team and make it look like she wasn't lonely.
But neither did he.
Maybe this party was more than just a party for her. Maybe it was her first attempt at breaking the invisible walls they'd lived behind for so long.
Still, the unease wouldn't go away.
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On the other hand in Marin's room, she sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her blanket. The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of her bedside lamp. Outside her window, the night lay still, blanketing Heldale in its usual eerie calm—but inside her, everything was loud.
Kant had said yes.
He actually said yes.
She had tried to play it cool, to nod and pretend she was merely considering it like an option. But inside, the second he gave her his quiet approval, something in her chest fluttered—warm and terrified all at once.
For a long time, Marin just sat there, staring at nothing in particular. Her eyes drifted to the stack of books by her desk, the untouched sketchpad she used to carry everywhere, the stuffed animal she still hadn't moved off the corner of her bed, and clothes folded neatly on the back of her chair.
And then she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
What were they expecting me to look like? How do I even dress for a party like that?
The girls at school hadn't said it outright, but it was there—lingering in their voices like poison beneath perfume. She was the boring daughter of the mayor. The quiet one. The one who never went to parties. Never dated. Never got in trouble.
Just Marin.
The weight of that name felt heavier than it used to.
She exhaled and brought her knees up to her chest on the bed.
What would they say when she showed up? Would they compliment her outfit, whisper behind her back, or maybe ignore her entirely?
But even with the anxiety clawing at her insides, Marin couldn't ignore the way her heart had leapt when Kant had told her she could go.
She hadn't expected it.
Not from him.
Kant had always been the more composed one, the one who thought things through twice before speaking. He protected her in his quiet, brooding way—never too stern, but always cautious. She had feared he'd say no, that he'd tell her to stop being dramatic or to focus on something more useful.
But instead… he had listened.
He had looked at her, truly looked at her, and though he had that same tired, protective look in his eyes, he hadn't shut her down. He had trusted her.
And that… that meant more to her than she could explain.
She blinked back the prickling feeling behind her eyes.
Was this what it felt like? To be given a little freedom… a little space to find yourself?
For so long, it felt like everything had been decided for her—how to talk, what to wear, where to go, who to smile at. She had grown up behind fences of respectability, behind the shadow of their father's position.
But now she had a chance.
One night. One party.
A chance to step outside the image her father had built for her and maybe find a version of herself that wasn't so invisible.
She stood up and walked toward her closet, hesitating with her hand on the handle.
A small, unsure smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Okay," she whispered to the mirror. "Let's not mess this up."
And for the first time in a long while, Marin felt something stir inside her.