Mani hadn't left his room since the stunt.
The music, the lights, the crowd—he replayed it all in his head, over and over. He'd imagined cheers, smiles, Brooklyn's tears of joy as she ran into his arms. He'd imagined her realizing what he'd known all along: that he was the one.
Instead, she had cut him down. In front of everyone.
"You did this for you. Not me."
Her words echoed like shards of glass, slicing through his chest.
He paced the length of his dorm, fists clenched, breath ragged. His phone buzzed constantly—friends telling him to lay low, classmates making jokes, even strangers mocking him on social media.
#BannerBoy was already trending.
Each notification was another punch in the gut. Each laugh, another flame to his anger.
And beneath it all, a single image burned the brightest: Brooklyn standing with Bryant. Not just standing—defending him. Choosing him, without even saying the words.
Mani slammed his fist into the wall, the pain a sharp reminder that he was still here, still fighting.
"She doesn't get it," he muttered, pacing again. "She's confused. Bryant's twisting things. He's making me look like the villain."
But then another voice crept in, quieter, crueler. What if she meant it? What if she really doesn't want you?
Mani froze, bile rising in his throat. No. That couldn't be true. She'd never said she didn't want him—she'd only said she needed space. She hadn't chosen Bryant outright.
Not yet.
He gripped the edge of his desk, leaning over it as his reflection glared back at him from the dark laptop screen. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw tight. He barely recognized himself.
"She'll see," he whispered. "She has to. After everything I've done, everything I've given… she can't just throw me away."
The image of Bryant's face surfaced again—calm, steady, smug. Mani's stomach twisted.
Bryant thought he'd won. Thought he could swoop in at the last minute and take everything Mani had worked for.
But he hadn't won yet.
Mani grabbed his phone and opened his messages. His thumbs hovered, trembling with rage and desperation. He typed Brooklyn's name, erased it. Typed again. Erased again.
No. Not her. Not yet. She needed space—he could give her that. For now.
But Bryant?
Mani's jaw hardened as he opened a new chat. His contact list blurred as he scrolled, stopping on a name he hadn't thought about in months—a friend from the basketball team, someone who hated Bryant almost as much as he did.
His fingers flew across the screen. "Got a job for you. You in?"
The reply came almost instantly. "Depends. What kind of job?"
Mani's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "The kind that teaches people to stay in their lane."
He tossed the phone onto his bed and sat back, his pulse steadying.
If Brooklyn wouldn't see the truth on her own, then he'd make sure Bryant was no longer standing in the way.
And when the dust settled, she'd come back to him. She had to.
Because Mani had already decided—Brooklyn was his.