Lisa didn't speak as they crossed the west archway. She kept her arm around Jasmine's back, guiding her through the quieter corridors leading toward the academy's exit. The silence between them wasn't hostile — it was heavy, as though both were walking with words they weren't ready to release.
Sunlight washed over the stone walkway outside the last building. The world beyond the gates felt strangely distant, like an entirely different reality waiting for them to step into it. Jasmine inhaled sharply, tasting the cold air on her tongue. She hadn't realized how suffocating the academy walls were until she stood on the threshold.
"You okay?" Lisa asked quietly.
Jasmine managed a faint nod. "Just tired."
Lisa's expression softened, but there was still a trace of tension around her mouth — the kind that came from trying to stay strong while feeling everything crumble beneath her.
They reached the main gate. A bored guard sat behind the sign-out desk, tapping at his tablet.
"Names," he said without looking up.
Lisa answered for both of them: "Lisa Moretti and Jasmine Amsel. Short off-campus break."
He checked their IDs, scribbled their exit time, then gestured lazily. "Stay within the permitted radius."
"Yeah," Lisa muttered. "We know."
Once outside, the academy loomed behind them — pale stone, tall windows, and an oppressive quiet that seemed to swallow the surrounding noise. Jasmine didn't look back. She didn't want to see the courtyard — didn't want to see the archway where she'd left Nathalie standing moments earlier.
Lisa led her down the hill, toward the small row of cafés and workshops that bordered the campus. Classes were still in session, so the streets were almost empty. The quiet felt unfamiliar, almost unreal, after the chaos of the day.
They walked several minutes before Lisa finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice low.
Jasmine glanced at her. "For what?"
"For earlier. For how I talked to her."
Jasmine slowed her steps. "Lisa…"
"No," Lisa insisted. "I was unfair. I know she cares about you. I just— I don't know how to handle it."
Jasmine stayed silent, giving her space.
Lisa continued, her voice unsteady. "You're the first person I've actually… fought for. Like really fought for. You're important to me, Jasmine. It scares me how much."
Jasmine's breath caught.
"And when she's around," Lisa added, "I feel like I'm losing you."
Jasmine shook her head. "You're not losing me."
Lisa looked away, eyes shining with something raw. "But I might be. And that terrifies me."
Jasmine stepped closer, resting her hand lightly on Lisa's arm. "You're my friend. One of the strongest people in my life. That won't disappear."
Lisa didn't move for a second — as though absorbing every word to find out if they were real.
Finally, she exhaled. "Okay."
They reached a small café with outdoor seating — empty except for a single barista cleaning the counter. Lisa chose a table far from the window, as if instinctively seeking a quiet corner where Jasmine could breathe without being seen.
Jasmine sat down slowly, her shoulders aching from the weight of the rumors, the confrontation, and the tension she'd left behind with Nathalie.
A moment later, Lisa returned with two steaming cups.
"You like chamomile, right?" she asked.
Jasmine nodded softly. "Thank you."
Lisa sat across from her. She didn't touch her drink. Her gaze stayed fixed on Jasmine, studying her with the fierce protectiveness that had become her default state.
"You were shaking earlier," Lisa said. "I could feel it."
Jasmine wrapped her hands around the warm cup. "I hate that everyone's talking about me like I'm… broken."
"You're not broken."
"It feels like it."
Lisa leaned forward. "You're overwhelmed. That's different."
Jasmine sighed. "I just want it to stop."
Lisa didn't answer immediately. She watched the steam rise from her tea, jaw tight, as though calculating something.
"Jasmine," she said finally. "If you want… we can leave for the day. Go into town. Forget the academy exists."
Jasmine blinked. "We'll get in trouble."
"So what?" Lisa's voice sharpened. "You need a break. You're under investigation for something you didn't do. People treat you like a spectacle. And that teacher—"
She stopped herself abruptly.
Jasmine breathed in sharply. "Lisa, don't talk about Nathalie like that."
Lisa looked down, chest rising and falling with restrained frustration. "I'm not trying to disrespect her. But I don't trust how she makes you feel."
"She makes me feel safe," Jasmine whispered.
That silenced both of them.
The wind brushed across the street, carrying faint music from a nearby shop.
Lisa lifted her eyes slowly. "Do you… care about her? Like that?"
Jasmine held her breath. Her fingers tightened around the cup. She didn't look away — she couldn't.
"I don't know," she whispered.
But she did know.
And Lisa heard the truth beneath the hesitation.
Lisa leaned back in her chair, exhaling shakily. "Alright. Then I guess we're really in trouble."
Jasmine frowned. "Lisa—"
"No, it's fine." Lisa forced a weak smile, even though her eyes betrayed her. "As long as you're okay, I'll deal with it."
"You don't have to pretend."
Lisa laughed — a bitter, tired sound. "I've never been good at pretending."
A pause.
A long one.
Then Jasmine asked the question she had feared since the courtyard.
"Are you angry at me?"
Lisa shook her head slowly. "No. I'm just scared. Of losing you. Of watching you get hurt again. Of not being enough."
Jasmine's heart tightened. "You are enough. You've always been enough."
Lisa's voice cracked. "Then why does it feel like I'm fighting a battle I already lost?"
Jasmine reached across the table, taking Lisa's hand gently.
"You haven't lost anything."
Lisa squeezed her hand, breath trembling. "Then promise me something."
Jasmine nodded. "Anything."
"Promise you won't shut me out. Even if things get complicated."
Jasmine met her gaze fully. "I promise."
Lisa closed her eyes for a second, relief washing through her tension.
But just as Jasmine began to breathe again, Lisa stiffened — eyes snapping toward the street.
Jasmine turned.
And her heart dropped.
Nathalie was standing at the corner of the block.
Alone.
Still in her professional attire.
Hands trembling slightly at her sides.
She wasn't supposed to follow them. She wasn't supposed to leave the academy at all.
But there she was — watching Jasmine through the glass, expression fractured between longing, fear, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.
Jasmine felt the world tilt.
Lisa whispered, "You've got to be kidding me."
And Jasmine realized:
The collision wasn't stopping.
It was accelerating.