The final whistle blew.
The field exploded.
"Night Falcons!" Joy screamed, jumping so hard she nearly lost her balance. "I told you! I told you!"
On the court, the Night Falcons were swarmed by cheering students. Caelen stood at the center of it all, breathing hard, sweat clinging to his hair, but composed as ever.
They had won.
Lira clapped, smiling softly.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
After the crowd thinned, the court shifted into that tired, messy aftermath — players sitting on the floor, jerseys damp with sweat, passing around towels and water bottles.
Lira slipped down from the bleachers.
"I'll be back," she told Joy.
Joy nodded distractedly, still ranting about the final play to Keiran.
At the cooler, Lira grabbed two bottles of water.
One for Caelen.
One for Ronan.
Simple.
Normal.
She walked calmly across the polished floor.
Almost there—
A sharp shove hit her shoulder.
Hard.
Her balance snapped sideways.
She fell, landing on her side with a painful thud.
The bottles slipped from her hands, rolling across the floor.
A small yelp escaped her before she could stop it.
Around her, a few heads turned.
Marissa stood above her.
"Oh my gosh," she said sweetly. "I didn't see you."
Her smile was anything but sorry.
Ronan had just turned around at the sound of voices—but not soon enough.
Marissa bent smoothly, picking up one of the water bottles.
She walked toward him, all innocence.
"You must be tired," she said brightly, holding it out.
Ronan hesitated only a second before taking it. "Thanks."
Behind them—
Joy had already rushed over.
"Are you okay?!" she hissed, helping Lira sit up.
"I'm fine," Lira whispered, though pain shot up her arm where she'd hit the floor.
Across the court, Caelen noticed.
His expression changed instantly.
Ronan lifted the bottle to drink—
But then he saw her.
Lira.
On the ground.
Joy helping her up.
His brows furrowed.
He lowered the bottle slowly.
Marissa followed his gaze.
For a second, something flickered in his expression.
He stepped toward Lira instead.
And without a word—
He handed the water back to Marissa.
"I'm good," he said calmly.
Marissa's smile faltered.
Just slightly.
Her fingers tightened around the bottle.
Disappointment.
Then anger.
Caelen reached Lira first.
He crouched down in front of her, grabbing the other water bottle that had rolled near her.
"Who did this?" his voice was low. Controlled.
"I'm fine," Lira insisted softly.
She tried to stand.
Her knee trembled slightly.
Caelen steadied her immediately.
"It's okay," she whispered again. "Don't worry."
But he was already looking past her.
At Marissa.
Marissa met Lira's gaze instead.
Annoyed.
Frustrated.
And then—
For just a second—
Something in Lira's eyes flickered.
Not weakness.
Not tears.
Something colder.
Something deeper.
Marissa stiffened.
The smile faded completely.
She looked away first.
And walked off.
Joy glared after her. "I swear one day—"
"It's fine," Lira repeated.
But as Caelen helped her stand—
The air around her felt very, very still.
The gym was slowly emptying.
Laughter echoed. Sneakers squeaked. Someone dragged a bench across the floor.
Caelen had just walked off after making Lira sit down on one of the side chairs.
"Stay here," he said quietly. "I'll be back."
"I'm fine," she repeated softly.
He didn't look convinced.
But he left to speak with one of his teammates.
Joy had been pulled away by Keiran, still arguing about the final three-point shot.
For a brief moment—
Lira was alone.
She adjusted the sleeve over her wrist, trying to ignore the dull ache in her side.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She didn't look up at first.
Then—
A shadow stopped in front of her.
Marissa.
Her smile was gone.
"What," Marissa said quietly, "was that?"
Lira blinked. "What?"
"You think you're clever?"
"I don't—"
The slap came fast.
Sharp.
The sound cracked through the nearly empty gym.
Lira's head snapped to the side.
The sting burned instantly across her cheek.
A few students turned—but Marissa's voice rose just enough to control the narrative.
"You pathetic little attention seeker," she hissed under her breath, close enough that only Lira could hear. "You fall in front of him on purpose, then make him look at you like you're some kind of victim?"
Lira's fingers curled slightly against the chair.
"I didn't—"
"Don't lie." Marissa's voice dropped colder. "You think just because you sit there quietly with your silver hair and fake innocence that boys will pick you?"
Her eyes flashed with something ugly.
"You're not special. You're not pretty. You're not anything."
Lira's cheek throbbed.
"I'm not trying to—"
"You embarrassed me," Marissa cut in, jaw tight. "Do you know how that feels? Watching him hand the bottle back? In front of everyone?"
So that was it.
Not the fall.
Not the game.
Her pride.
"You ruin things just by standing there," Marissa spat. "So stop standing there."
For a second—
Silence.
Lira slowly turned her face back toward her.
Her cheek was red now.
But her eyes—
They weren't watery.
They weren't broken.
They were calm.
Too calm.
And for the briefest second—
Something flickered behind them again.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Something ancient.
Cold.
Marissa's breath caught.
It was only a second.
Then it was gone.
Just Lira again.
Quiet.
Small.
"Are you done?" Lira asked softly.
Marissa stepped back like she hadn't meant to.
Her heart was suddenly racing—and she didn't know why.
"This isn't over," she muttered.
But she was the one who turned away first.
And walked off.
The noise had dropped to echoes.
Marissa's footsteps faded toward the exit.
Lira stayed seated.
Her cheek burned.
She pressed her fingers lightly against it, as if that might cool the sting.
She didn't realize someone was still standing near the lockers.
Watching.
Ronan had turned back at the sound.
He hadn't heard every word.
But he had seen the slap.
Clear.
Sharp.
Unmistakable.
His jaw tightened.
He started walking toward her.
Lira sensed movement and quickly lowered her hand from her cheek, trying to look normal.
Too late.
He stopped in front of her.
For a second, he didn't say anything.
He just looked at her face.
Her cheek was already turning pink.
"Who did that?" he asked quietly.
"It's nothing," she said automatically.
His brows drew together. "It wasn't nothing."
She tried to smile. "I bruise easily."
"That wasn't a bruise."
Silence.
He crouched slightly to be eye level with her.
"Look at me."
She hesitated.
Then she did.
His expression wasn't angry in a loud way.
It was controlled.
Which somehow felt heavier.
Without thinking too much about it, he reached out.
His fingers gently tilted her chin so he could see the mark better.
Her breath caught.
He didn't notice.
Or maybe he did.
His thumb hovered near the red imprint but didn't touch it yet.
"She hit you hard," he muttered.
"I've had worse," Lira replied softly.
His eyes flicked up to hers immediately.
"That's not something you should say so casually."
That made her pause.
He stood up suddenly and walked to the bench nearby where a small sports first-aid kit was left open.
He grabbed a cold compress pack.
Cracked it.
The chemical chill activated instantly.
When he came back, he held it out to her.
"Hold this."
She blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I know."
She took it.
The cold pressed against her cheek, making her inhale sharply.
"Sorry," he said instinctively.
"It's cold."
"That's the point."
She let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
He sat beside her this time.
Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then—
"I saw," he said quietly.
Her grip on the compress tightened.
"Oh."
"She shoved you earlier too."
It wasn't a question.
She didn't answer.
He exhaled through his nose.
"You don't fight back."
She gave a faint shrug. "It would make things worse."
"For who?"
"For everyone."
He turned slightly toward her.
"You don't deserve that."
The words landed heavier than the slap had.
She wasn't used to hearing things like that.
"You handed the water back," she said softly instead.
He looked ahead at the empty court.
"She didn't deserve it."
Silence again.
Then he glanced at her.
"Next time, don't walk alone after something like that."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Why?"
"Because," he said simply, "some people need to be reminded they're not untouchable."
There was something firm in his tone now.
Protective.
It made her heartbeat pick up again—
Not wild.
Just steady and warm.
"I can handle myself," she said gently.
He looked at her cheek.
"I know," he replied. "But you shouldn't have to."
She didn't know what to say to that.
So she just held the compress to her face and stared at the court lights reflecting on the polished floor.
After a moment, he nudged the water bottle toward her.
"You dropped this."
She accepted it.
Their fingers brushed for a second.
Neither pulled away immediately.
Then—
Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Ronan stood.
"I should go."
She nodded.
He hesitated.
Then added quietly, "If she touches you again… tell me."
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just certain.
And for the first time that night—
The sting on her cheek didn't feel like the only thing burning.