"Then scream."
I whirl on him. "This isn't funny."
"I'm not laughing." He's not. His face is serious, open, raw. "Scream. Cry. Throw something. Whatever you need. But stop trying to solve this like it's a problem set."
"It IS a problem set! It's a zero-sum game with no winning outcome, and I can't—" My voice cracks. I hate it. "I can't find the answer."
"Maybe there isn't one."
The words land like a punch.
"Don't say that," I whisper.
"Why not? It might be true." Devan's voice is steady, but I can see what it's costing him. "Sterling designed this to be unwinnable. Maybe we just have to accept that."
"Accept what? That one of us has to lose everything?"
"Accept that we can't control this." He steps closer. "Accept that sometimes the world is just... cruel. And unfair. And there's nothing we can do about it."
"No." I shake my head. "No. I refuse to accept that."
"Sam—"
"Maybe Sterling's right."
The words fall out of me before I can stop them. Devan goes still.
"What?"
"Maybe he's right," I repeat, and god, it hurts to say it. "Maybe we are a liability. Maybe wanting you this much makes me weak. Maybe I can't hack it in that world because I'm too—"
"Don't." Devan's voice is sharp. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes, but I force them back. "I've spent my whole life trying to prove I deserve to be in the room. Trying to be good enough for my family, for this school, for this field. And now I'm looking at the biggest opportunity of my career, and all I can think is—"
I stop. Swallow hard.
"All I can think is that I don't care," I whisper. "About any of it. The only thing I care about is you."
Devan's breath catches.
"Is that pathetic?" I ask, my voice breaking. "That I'd throw away everything I've worked for just to keep you? That I don't even want the stupid internship if you're not there?"
"Sam." He closes the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands. His palms are warm, steady. "That's not pathetic."
"It feels pathetic."
"It's not." He presses his forehead to mine. "You want to know a secret? I never cared about the internship."
I blink. "What?"
"I applied because you applied," he admits. "Because it was another way to be near you. Another way to compete with you. The prestige, the career path—none of it mattered. You were the only variable I was solving for."
"Devan..."
"I've been so focused on not losing you," he says quietly, "that I forgot to ask myself what I actually want."
We're both quiet for a moment. His thumbs stroke my cheekbones, gentle and grounding.
