Westbridge was loud that afternoon.
Not chaotic.
Just restless.
The transparency proposal had turned the campus into a discussion board. Students debated in hallways, cafés, even during lectures.
Some supported it.
Some hated it.
But everyone had an opinion.
And that meant attention.
Anaya didn't mind attention.
What she disliked—
Was misunderstanding.
She stood outside the policy office reviewing feedback notes when a group of senior students approached.
One of them spoke first.
"You're pushing this reform too aggressively."
She didn't look defensive.
"Explain."
"You're disrupting systems that worked for years."
"They worked for a few people," she replied calmly.
"That's an assumption."
"That's a pattern."
Another student stepped forward.
"You're acting like you run the council."
That made her pause.
"Interesting accusation," she said.
"People are saying it."
"People say many things."
The senior student folded his arms.
"They also say someone else is helping you push this."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Who?"
He glanced across the courtyard.
Where he stood talking to two committee members.
"Him."
Anaya followed the look.
For the first time in days—
Something inside her tightened.
Not anger.
Something sharper.
Because influence she could handle.
But assumptions?
Those were harder.
Across the courtyard, he noticed the group confronting her.
He excused himself and walked toward them.
"What's happening?" he asked.
"Just discussing policy," one of the seniors said.
He looked between them.
Then at Anaya.
"You're fine?"
"Yes."
But her tone was colder than usual.
The seniors left shortly after.
Leaving the two of them standing there.
"You didn't have to come over," she said.
"I wasn't defending you."
"I didn't say you were."
"You sounded like it."
She crossed her arms slightly.
"You enjoy being seen as the strategist behind this?"
His expression sharpened.
"That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?"
"You think I'm manipulating the situation?"
"I think people believe you are."
"And that bothers you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I don't need help pushing my own reforms."
Silence.
The tension shifted.
This wasn't council debate anymore.
This was personal.
He studied her carefully.
"You think I'm taking credit?"
"I think perception matters."
"Then correct it."
"I am."
Another pause.
The air between them felt different now.
Not aligned.
Not hostile.
Just… strained.
"You're overthinking this," he said finally.
"And you're underestimating it."
He stepped slightly closer.
"You don't like being misunderstood."
"No."
"Neither do I."
Her expression softened for a fraction of a second.
Then she turned away.
"I have work to do."
She walked toward the policy office without looking back.
Across the courtyard, Kiara had seen everything.
The confrontation.
The tension.
The shift.
And for the first time in days—
She smiled.
Because alignment had cracks.
And cracks were all she needed.