"You thought walking away without a word wasprotection?"
His jaw flexed. “It wasn’t like that?—"
“No?” My voice cracked—just enough to betray me. “Because it felt exactly likethat. You disappeared. You let them drown me, Leo. And all I wanted was you. Just you.”
"I didn’t know what else to do." His eyes searched mine. “My family—my mother—she cornered me with that file, made it sound like if I stayed, they’d destroy you. I thought?—”
"You thought breaking my heart would save me?"
His silence was louder than any confession.
"I trusted you, Leo." My voice was a whisper now, hoarse and sharp. “With everything. My heart. My body. All of me. Youhadme.”
His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for me. I stepped back.
"You left me with nothing but whispers and stares and slime raining down on my crown.”
A tear slipped down, traitorous and hot. I turned away before he could see it fall, but I knew he did. I felt it in the way his breath hitched.
"I was seventeen," I said, barely able to get the words out. "You were supposed to be my safe place. And instead, you made me feel like I was something to be ashamed of."
"You're not," he said quickly, stepping closer. "You're not. You never were. You’re… everything, Jade. I was just too much of a coward to fight when it mattered.”
I looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
This boy—this King—who used to feel like mine.
And for a second, I saw the one I fell for. The one who looked at me like I wasn’t a mess to clean up but a wildfire to worship.
But seconds pass.
And kings fall.
“I don’t need you to fight for me anymore, Leo,” I said quietly. “I already learned how to fight for myself.”
And then I walked away.
But I didn’t feel strong.
I felt hollow.
And I hated how much I still wanted to turn around.
By Friday night, the campus gym looked like a sold-out arena. The kind of overblown production that only a prep school with a seven-figure booster budget could pull off.
A haze of fog machines curled over the court, tinted red and gold from strobing lights. The bass from the speakers hit deep in my chest—hip-hop remixes shaking the bleachers as cheerleaders flipped and tossed each other through clouds of glitter spray.
Confetti cannons waited, primed at the sidelines. The drumline rolled into a thunder that made the banners on the walls flutter. Students waved LED bracelets that blinked in sync to the music, and for a second, the whole place pulsed like a heartbeat.
Royal Oaks didn’t do subtle.
I stood near the top of the bleachers with Shani and Hayden, the “entourage,” as Shani proudly called us. Her lip gloss sparkled in the flashing lights. Hayden was already taking notes for an exposé on the school’s budget priorities. I just… watched.
When the lights dimmed, the scoreboard screens lit up—highlight reels flashing across the digital boards. Names boomed over the speakers.
“Number 11… co-captain…Leo Holt!”
