“Oh no.”
Ignoring her, Kian dropped to one knee. A collective gasp rippled through the hallway.
“Would you do me the honor... of being my girlfriend?”
Chapter 7
Riya considered herself a sensible person. The kind that followed rules. Solved problems within her purview. Did her homework on time.
Thus, when faced with theinsensibleinvitation to date Kian Kho, there was only one logical response:
She bolted.
The school buses were a smear of yellow as she passed. Somewhere behind her, she thought she heard someone call her name—Mel, probably—but her mind was in overdrive. No plan, no direction. Just a single overwhelming urge to get as far from Kian’s glazed, adoring stare as possible.
Her lungs were on fire, her polo stuck to her back with sweat by the time she stumbled into the kitchen. She didn’t even remember the run—just the singular focus of getting home. Safe. For now.
“I’m home,” she choked. More to reassure herself than anything else.
“Where’s your backpack?”
Riya jumped.
Her sister Nyra, leaning against the kitchen counter, arched a brow.
At twenty-three, Nyra was working toward an online MBA while starting a baking business from their home:Nyra’sNovelty Bakes: Cakes From Your Favorite Novels, the tagline read on her site. One of her latest custom creations was a delicate pink vanilla cake with the wordsEat Mepiped across the top in intricate blue curls. Because of her, the house always smelled like sugar and cardamom.
“Don’t need it,” Riya lied, clutching her Astronomy textbook.
Nyra put down a mixing bowl. “The perks of senior year, huh.”
Riya nodded stiffly. But now that her sprint-induced adrenaline was wearing off, she realized she’d made a glaring mistake. She needed her backpack. She always studied after school—it was part of her nightly routine. Without it, she’d be throwing off her entire schedule.
And if there was one thing she couldn’t afford to do right now, it was lose control.
But the missing backpack was secondary. Therealproblem was Kian.
The realization rattled her skull all over again. Not only had she cast a love spell, but she had cast itwrong. And now Kian was standing in the wreckage.
Nyra straightened, worried. “You look drained. You sure you’re getting enough sleep?”
Riya let out a short, broken laugh. “OfcourseI am.”
Nyra’s brow quirked up again. She didn’t press, but the silence that followed was as thick as her cake icing.
Riya, feeling awkward, sniffed loudly.
“Uh-huh, well...” Nyra wiped her hands on a towel. “You feeling up for a cupcake?”
Riya knew that tone. It wasn’t about the cupcake. It was an offering. The same quiet, unobtrusive gesture her family made when they didn’t know what else to say.
Are you okay? Do you need to talk?
“I’ve been playing around with a new recipe,” Nyra continued, crossing the kitchen toward a tray of freshly baked cupcakes, their green frosting swirled high. “Pistachio and chocolate. Sugar always helps when I’m stressed. Try one.”
Riya’s stomach turned. If she ate anything right now, she was pretty sure it would claw its way back up.
She needed to think. To plan.
