Rhay's mind was a battlefield of past and present, a frantic search for an answer that would not betray his secret. He couldn't tell her the truth; the words felt too fantastical, too heavy, even for a bond as sacred as theirs. She had always been the one person who truly understood him, and in this moment, that profound connection was his greatest burden. He had to construct a new narrative, a fragile lie just believable enough to satisfy her without revealing the impossible truth of his returner status.
He drew a deep, rattling breath, the cold evening air sharp in his lungs. He looked away, his gaze falling on the empty hallway, and swallowed hard. "Fray, it's not what you think," he began, the words tasting like ash. "I know it's recent, but... it's her choice. I have to accept it."
He offered a small, pained shrug, gesturing vaguely at the dorm building. "Life must go on. I'm stuck here. I can't just walk out and find her." His gaze finally met hers, his voice dropping to a low, desperate plea. "What else can I do?"
Fray's eyes narrowed, a look of profound disbelief hardening her features. For almost two years, she had watched him confide in her about his love for Claire, and she had seen him plan every single step to get to this school together with Claire.
"Rhay, we talked about your fight for Claire's heart for almost two years! You both even secured the first and second ranks on the entrance exams—the fruit of your shared effort with her?! Don't tell me it was just a fantasy!" Her voice rose, laced with a familiar mix of hurt and raw frustration. "I saw you! I was there when I told you the news. I saw how utterly broken you were!"
He winced, the memory a sharp, painful echo he couldn't deny. But he had to sell this lie, to make her believe in this new, emotionally detached version of himself. He had to lie to the girl who was a sister to him and to his younger self at the same time.
"Yeah, I won't lie; it was a devastating pain," he said, a flicker of that old, bitter memory crossing his face. He quickly pushed it away, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "But what did you expect me to do? Allow the sadness to drown me and, in doing so, lose a precious chance I should have had?" He felt the question resonate from the deepest part of his being, a part that had already lived a lifetime of quiet regret. "I'm simply accepting reality and trying to move on. It's now or never... right?"
Fray's expression softened slightly, her anger dissolving into a puzzled confusion. She shook her head, her gaze searching his face for any sign of deception. "So you're telling me... after all that... you're just... over it?"
"Yes," he said, the word feeling heavy on his tongue. He took a shallow breath, trying to look resolute. "I'm over it. I'm ready to move on." His gaze remained locked with hers, but his expression softened slightly as he brought up her name. "Vye... Vye is a part of that new start. She's not a rebound."
His voice dropped to a low, desperate plea, as if unsure of what else to say if she wouldn't believe him. "Please, just trust me."
Fray remained still, her eyes searching his for any hint of falsehood. Rhay's face, however, gave nothing away. The mask of his new life held firm against her scrutiny, a practiced shield for his secret. Finally, she sighed, the tension in her shoulders melting away.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I hope you're telling me the truth. Because I can't stand to see you hurt again, Rhay. Especially if you're hurting yourself and, in the process, my precious friend, Vye."
He nodded, a heavy look passing between them—a silent promise to protect the lie and Vye from the truth. "Thank you, Fray. I'll see you later?" he asked, the words a desperate escape. He was eager to continue with the night, to put distance between himself and this difficult conversation.
The confrontation was over, but the unspoken truth remained, a heavy weight between them. Rhay walked away from her, the empty space now filled with a new, lingering silence. He had traded a moment of honesty for a bitter lie, and the taste of his small victory was sour, leaving him feeling completely alone.
Unaware of the heavy silence that followed him, Vye's own evening had begun. The quiet, almost sacred moments of their shared walk gave way to the mundane roar of the evening. For Vye, the walk back to the dormitory was a blur of light-hearted chatter. The girls from her group, seeing her return with Rhay, immediately began to tease her. She laughed along, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the subtle, unspoken tension she had witnessed between Fray and Rhay.
"I've never seen him walk anyone back like this, not even Claire," one of the girls, Chell, remarked with a conspiratorial giggle. "They were so careful to keep it a secret back in junior high. It's so different to see him being so open."
"It seems you have a fan, Vye," another girl, Shea, chimed in. "He just seems so different when he's with you. It's so cute!"
A third girl, Rynn, then added, her voice a little softer, her gaze falling for a brief moment to the ground. "Maybe it's because you remind him of Claire. They were so close in junior high. Everyone thought they were going to be the school's perfect couple."
Vye's smile faltered as a sudden jolt of pain, far too stinging for a simple rumor, registered in her chest. The girls' teasing faded into a distant murmur as the cold dread settled in her stomach. Who was this "Claire"? The name was vaguely familiar, but it instantly sparked a biting, new fear: the fear of being a substitute. Was Rhay truly seeing her, or was he just trying to rebuild a shadow of Claire over her? The thought was a piercing, insecure ache.
Yet, beneath the rising tide of fear, a different feeling resurfaced—a deep, inexplicable calm that flowed from her very soul. It was a silent, unshakeable assurance, a quiet warmth that contradicted her conscious worries and confirmed that Rhay's devotion was theirs alone. She didn't understand this feeling, but it was there, a confusing, solid counterpoint to her sudden insecurity.
She smiled and nodded, pretending to be unfazed, but inside, a quiet storm was brewing. They went through their routine, each lost in their own thoughts until it was time for dinner.
When Rhay arrived, it was a sensory explosion. The quiet he had just left was replaced by a deafening clamor of voices and the relentless clinking of silverware on plates. The air, thick with the scent of tonight's simple meal, was alive with the hum of dozens of students.
He scanned the sea of faces, his gaze cutting through the crowd until it found their table. His meal group was already seated. Fray was there, and beside her sat Vye. Rhay noticed Fray's eyes track him as he walked over, a curious, almost knowing look on her face. He saw the empty seats at the table and deliberately chose the one between Vye and June, a silent, confident act that declared his intention for all to see.
The dinner passed in a blur of noise and murmured conversation. Vye ate without tasting, her mind lost in the echo of a name she didn't know. She could feel Rhay's patient, questioning gaze upon her, a gentle pressure that came in the spaces between his bites and his talk with their friends, a silent inquiry into the sudden change in her demeanor. She kept her gaze fixed on her plate, her silence a shield against the questions she knew he would ask. She knew she had to confront him, but she wanted to choose the right moment, away from the prying eyes of their friends.
As her last bite left the plate, she felt his gaze still linger on her. She finally lifted her head and met his stare, his patient presence giving her the courage she needed. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper over the din of the dining hall, but it was firm and deliberate. She leaned in, her eyes holding his, and asked the question that had been haunting her.
"Who's Claire?"