Brooklyn walked out of the library that evening, clutching her books close to her chest. The sky was painted with streaks of orange and violet, the air cool with the promise of nightfall. For the first time in days, she felt a little lighter—thanks to Bryant.
But as she reached the quad, her heart sank.
Mani was there. Waiting. Again.
He pushed off the bench the moment he spotted her, his smile too eager, too practiced. "Brooklyn. I was just about to text you."
Her pulse quickened. "Mani, we've already talked. I told you I need space."
"I know," he said quickly, stepping closer. "And I respect that—really, I do. But I just wanted five minutes. That's all."
Before she could reply, another voice cut through the air.
"Five minutes of what?"
Brooklyn's breath caught as Bryant appeared from behind her, hands in his hoodie pockets, his expression calm but his eyes hard. He stopped at her side, his presence solid, grounding.
Mani's smile faltered. "Bryant."
"Mani," Bryant returned evenly.
The tension between them was instant, sharp as broken glass. Students passing by slowed, sensing something brewing, but neither boy seemed to notice the small crowd forming.
"I was just talking to Brooklyn," Mani said, his tone suddenly defensive.
"Funny," Bryant said. "Because she told me she asked you for space. And yet here you are."
Mani's jaw tightened. "What she and I discuss isn't your business."
"See, that's where you're wrong," Bryant replied, his voice low but steady. "Because when she feels cornered, it becomes my business."
Brooklyn's heart raced, caught between them. She opened her mouth, but Mani's sharp laugh cut her off.
"You think you're her knight in shining armor, don't you? Always swooping in, playing the hero. But you don't care about her. You just don't like losing."
Bryant stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His calm exterior was cracking, but his voice stayed controlled. "You're confusing me with yourself."
The words hung in the air, heavy and brutal.
Brooklyn's stomach twisted. She had never seen Bryant like this—protective, yes, but with an edge of steel she hadn't known he carried.
Mani's smile vanished. His eyes hardened, his hands balling into fists. "Stay out of this, Bryant. Brooklyn doesn't belong to you."
Bryant didn't flinch. "She doesn't belong to you either. She belongs to herself. Maybe you should start respecting that."
The silence that followed was deafening. The crowd around them had grown, whispers buzzing like static.
Brooklyn finally found her voice, stepping between them. "Enough! Both of you!"
She turned first to Mani, her tone firm. "I meant what I said—I need space. If you care about me, then stop pushing."
Then she looked at Bryant, her chest tight. "And you—thank you for standing up for me, but I don't want a war fought in my name."
Her words cut through the tension like a blade.
Bryant stepped back immediately, his jaw unclenching, his eyes softening as they landed on her. Mani, on the other hand, stood rigid, his chest heaving, anger radiating off him in waves.
Brooklyn grabbed her books tighter and walked away, forcing herself not to look back at either of them.
But as she disappeared into the dorm building, Mani muttered under his breath, low enough only for Bryant to hear:
"This isn't over."
Bryant's eyes narrowed, his hands curling into fists. "Good," he whispered.