"Good," Ivy approves. "Clean break. That's the way to do it."
But Lennox is watching me with those too-perceptive eyes. "Is it though? A clean break?"
"It has to be." I whisper.
"Even if he's genuinely sorry? Even if he's willing to fight for you now?"
"Especially then. Because I can't spend my life wondering if the next time something hard happens, he'll hesitate again. If the next time his father demands something, he'll have to think about whether I'm worth the cost." I wipe my eyes. "I deserve someone who doesn't have to think about it. Someone who chooses me immediately. Every time."
"You do deserve that," Lennox agrees softly. "But people are complicated. They make mistakes. The question is whether this mistake is forgivable."
"I don't know if it is."
"Then you don't have to decide tonight. Just... don't close the door completely. Not yet."
But I've already closed the door. Locked it. Thrown away the key.
Haven't I?
I don't sleep that night. Just lie on Ivy's floor in my borrowed clothes, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.
By morning, my eyes are swollen and my head is pounding and I have to drag myself to my café shift because bills don't stop just because my heart is broken.
Lennox works with me. She doesn't mention Sebastian or the gala or anything that happened. Just works beside me in comfortable silence, covering when I inevitably mess up orders because I can't focus.
The café is buzzing with gossip. Everyone's talking about Sebastian's speech. About his father's reaction. About the scandal of it all.
"Did you see the video?" one girl asks her friend at a table near the counter. "Sebastian Thornhill basically told his father to fuck off in front of the entire gala."
"I heard his father left immediately. Just walked out."
"And Isla Monroe? The girl he was talking about? She's in our Econ class. She's been crying all morning."
I turn away before they can see my face.
At ten, when my shift ends, I find Marcus waiting outside the café.
"Isla. Can we talk?" He walks closer to me.
"I don't want to talk to anyone from Sebastian's world right now."
"I know. But please. Just five minutes." Against my better judgment, I nod. We walk to a bench near the quad. Marcus sits, and I join him reluctantly.
"Sebastian's a mess," he says without preamble.
"Good."
"He hasn't slept. Hasn't eaten. He's been trying to figure out who lied to his father so he can clear your name?—"
"I don't care."
"Isla." Marcus turns to face me fully. "I've known Sebastian my entire life. We grew up together. And I've never seen him care about anything the way he cares about you."
"He cared enough to hesitate when his father threatened me."
"He cared enough to eventually choose you over everything he's ever known. Over his father. Over his legacy. Over the approval he's spent his whole life chasing." Marcus leans forward. "Look, I'm not saying what happened was okay. That hesitation hurt you, and you have every right to be angry. But Sebastian's been trained since birth to defer to his father. To calculate every decision through the lens of family reputation. Breaking that conditioning in real-time, under pressure? That's not easy."
"It should be easy. Choosing the person you love should be the easiest decision in the world."
