Dozens—maybe hundreds—of petals, sloppily taped, already wilting. And a single handwritten note sat in the center:
Always with you
Riya made an ugly, strangled noise.
Hadn’t they just replanted the flower beds Kian had razed last time? Money would have to be taken out of the gardening budget again. Would she get blamed for this?
She pressed her fingers to her temples, fighting the headache forming behind her eyes. It was almost as if... ignoring Kian the past week had only made his feelingsgrow.
The intercom crackled again.
“Sorry, Riya, they’re telling me Igottago. But I hope you understand my feelings and how much I care about you.”
Click.
Silence.
Then, a fresh swell of whispers. Cackles. A group of girls passed, glancing at her locker—and at her.
A wave of mortification crashed over her. But beneath it, something deeper, sharper: fear.
If Kian kept this up, it wouldn’t just be rumors. It would be dissection. Scrutiny. People picking apart who she was. What she might be hiding.
You’re a monster.
The thought made something inside her snap.
She slammed her fist into her locker. The metal clanged, reverberating down the hall, making a couple straggling students in the hallway jump.
The tape gave way.
And a shower of night sky–purple petals fluttered to the ground.
Chapter 10
When Riya arrived home, the house smelled, as usual, like sugar and cardamom.
On any other day, it might have been comforting.
In the kitchen, her sisters were locked in debate over Nyra’s latest batch of pistachio cupcakes. Nyra stood protectively over her creations, while Amara, a second-year law student at Villanova, leaned lazily against the fridge, arms crossed, her thick black waves cascading over her shoulders.
“I’mtellingyou,” Amara was saying, “the icing is tooShrekgreen. Pistachio green should be softer, understated—elegant.”
Nyra scoffed. “What does that even mean?” She spotted Riya at the staircase and brightened, seizing her arrival like a lifeline. “Riya,help. Do you agree? Do these look tooShrek?”
Riya hung her heavy backpack on the banister. She barely had the energy to process the argument, let alone contribute to it. But she appraised the cupcakes anyway.
“Yeah,” she said wearily. “I can see what Amara means. This green gives me a headache.”Everythingwas giving her a headache.
Nyra gasped in betrayal.
“See? Riya gets it,” said Amara. “It’s givingsad Kermit theFrog. It’s givingdiscounted grocery store cupcakes for a kid’s birthdaypartyand his parents don’t love him.”
“All I’m hearing is my cupcakes have character,” Nyra shot back.
Riya should have rolled her eyes and moved on. That’s what she normally did.
But tonight, the scene felt surreal. Too normal, toosmall. Like she was watching it from a million miles away.
