seven days a week

the night air was sharp, laced with the promise of rain that hadn’t quite made up its mind yet, while the city whispered its secrets in the background. streetlights danced with a flicker, neon signs buzzed like they were gossiping, and the rare car glided by, its headlights casting playful shadows on the ground. but for manon bannerman? she had bigger fish to fry.

she was on a mission.

with her hands tucked into the pockets of her black leather jacket, she walked with purpose, her strides smooth, effortless, practically gliding across the sidewalk as if she owned the entire damn street.

she was dressed for the occasion—or, rather, dressed to torment her girlfriend. fitted jeans hugged her legs just right, her white muscle tee stretched across her frame, the fabric clinging slightly beneath the weight of her jacket. a black pair of combat boots rounded out the look, giving her the perfect mix of effortless swagger and controlled chaos.

and she was in an annoyingly good mood.

as she strolled down the block, she began to hum—a little offbeat, a little out of tune—skipping once, twice, because why not? she was feeling stupidly good, her long braided ponytail practically bouncing with every step.

here she was, at 9:48 p.m. on a friday night, walking straight to sophia's dorm, fully prepared to terrorize her back into loving her.

by the time she reached the door, she barely paused before ringing the doorbell, shamelessly, obnoxiously.

then, and only then, did she fix herself a little.

manon rolled her shoulders back, adjusted her jacket, and smoothed a hand down her white muscle tee, not because she cared about looking good—she always looked good, thank you very much—but because she wanted sophia to suffer.

that woman loved to act unimpressed, but manon knew exactly how to make her eyes linger, how to make her forget whatever petty grudge she was holding.

and, really, wasn't that the whole point?

she grinned to herself, already picturing the way sophia would cross her arms, her eyes narrowing, lips pursing—pretending like she wasn't affected when, in reality, she absolutely was.

manon straightened up when she heard the lock click.

the door swung open—standing in the entryway.

was not sophia.

instead—a teenager.

a brat.

a literal menace to society.

manon exhaled. loudly.

her shoulders slumped.

her head tilted back just slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a brief, tortured moment.

when she opened them again—yoonchae jeong was still there, standing in all her soul-sucking, joy-stealing glory.

the girl was not, for once, in her usual mean girls attire.

instead, she was ridiculously, offensively cozy.

a pink matching pajama set, soft and plush-looking.

a green clay mask smeared across her usually flawless skin.

her hair tied up in a bun that somehow still looked perfect.

in one hand, a bowl of kimchi—a bowl of manon's kimchi, no less.

in the other, a remote control.

like she had just paused a k-drama mid-heartbreak scene to answer the door.

the audacity.

the two of them stared at each other.

yoonchae's expression was bored, unimpressed, vaguely annoyed.

then, with a slow, deliberate sigh, she rolled her eyes, shifting her weight onto one leg, exuding all the energy of someone who had just been disturbed at a time that deeply inconvenienced her.

"oh," she deadpanned, as if manon was the single most exhausting thing she had ever encountered in her short life.

"it's you."

manon let out another long-suffering sigh, tipping her head back, staring at the ceiling for patience.

because, really.

this goddamn child.

manon sighed, slowly tilting her head to the side before fixing yoonchae with the most insincere, most teeth-baring, most artificially pleasant smile she had ever mustered in her entire life.

"yoonchae." she greeted, her voice saccharine sweet, dripping with condescending warmth. "lovely to see you. you look... healthy."

the korean did not react.

she did not blink.

she did not flinch.

she did not even pretend to appreciate the effort.

instead, with all the energy of an unbothered teen who had seen this all before, she rolled her eyes so hard her entire head moved with it, then shoved a massive bite of kimchi into her mouth—still using the same chopsticks that had been lingering dangerously close to her face mask-covered skin.

"manon," she said flatly, still chewing, barely even looking at her. "you can drop the act. we both know you're not exactly my biggest fan."

manon clicked her tongue. "that's a strong accusation, kid."

yoonchae arched a perfectly sculpted brow.

"oh, please," she scoffed, reaching for another piece of kimchi. "i know you're only here for sophia. save yourself the trouble and just say it."

and, well. she wasn't wrong.

manon sighed, loosening up immediately, her shoulders dropping from their faux-relaxed posture, her forced smile vanishing like it had never existed. she shoved her hands back into her pockets, shifting her weight lazily onto one leg, fully dropping the pretense.

"fine," she admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "where's sophia?"

and that—right there—was exactly what yoonchae had been waiting for.

because instead of answering, instead of stepping aside to let her in, the brat simply smirked.

a slow, devious, calculated smirk.

a smirk that immediately made manon's entire body tense in suspicion.

"hmm," yoonchae hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chopsticks against the rim of her bowl like she was deep in contemplation.

and manon knew.

she just knew.

that little devil was up to something again.

manon narrowed her eyes.

"what."

yoonchae blinked, all faux innocence. "what?"

"you're stalling," manon said suspiciously. "which means one of two things: either sophia's not here, or you're about to blackmail me for something."

yoonchae's smirk widened.

"why not both?"

manon sighed so hard she nearly deflated.

"i swear to god, kid—just tell me where she is."

but yoonchae only shrugged, insufferably unbothered. "can't do that. not without a deal."

oh, for fuck's sake.

manon ran both hands down her face. "unbelievable."

she had literally faced trained military officers with less nerve than this teenage menace.

"what is it this time?" manon echoed, incredulous.

yoonchae's eyes glinted.

"i want compensation."

"compensation?" manon scoffed, looking her up and down. "chae, you're standing in a heated dorm, wearing pink silk pajamas and a clay mask. what exactly do you need from me?"

yoonchae tilted her head.

"a favor." she said simply, popping another bite of kimchi into her mouth.

manon exhaled deeply, trying to summon whatever patience she had left.

"what favor." she said, voice dangerously flat.

yoonchae finally smiled.

"well, they had the nerve to go clubbing tonight and leave me out."

manon blinked.

and then blinked again.

and then finally, it all clicked.

"oh my god." manon groaned, pressing her fingers against her temple. "you want me to sneak you into a club?"

"not sneak," yoonchae corrected, offended by the implication. "escort."

manon gave her a long, exhausted stare.

"you're literally seventeen."

"and? you got into clubs when you were my age."

"that's different."

"how?"

"because i was a reckless idiot with a fake id who had zero respect for rules."

"exactly." yoonchae said, as if that proved her point.

manon groaned.

"you do realize they didn't invite you for a reason, right?"

"yes," yoonchae nodded. "because they lack taste. so, will you do it?"

manon made a pained noise.

"absolutely not."

"then i guess you don't need to know where sophia is."

this child.

manon clenched her jaw.

she had three options.

1. cave in.

2. figure it out herself.

3. strangle yoonchae until she starts talking.

manon stood there for a long moment, staring down at yoonchae like she was seriously contemplating every single life choice that had led her to this exact moment.

delivered messages? she could handle.

fighting off weird men eyeing sophia? no problem.

enduring sophia's bratty tantrums? practically a hobby at this point.

but this?

negotiating with a bitchy teenager in silk pajamas and a clay mask?

manon dragged a hand down her face, exhaling slowly, like she was summoning the patience of an entire buddhist monastery.

"let me get this straight," she said finally, voice dangerously even. "you'll tell me where sophia is... if i get you into the club."

yoonchae grinned.

"correct."

manon squinted, arms crossing over her chest, boots planted firmly on the ground.

"and what, exactly, do i get out of this?"

yoonchae tilted her head.

"the location of your precious girlfriend?"

"right," manon deadpanned. "so let me get this even straighter: you're holding information hostage. you're blackmailing me."

"i wouldn't call it blackmail," yoonchae said breezily. "more like... a mutually beneficial agreement."

"mutually beneficial my ass."

"you'd rather waste time searching for sophia when i could just tell you the info right now?" yoonchae blinked, feigning innocence. "wow, guess you don't love her that much after all—"

"alright, alright, shut up."

yoonchae beamed.

manon exhaled sharply.

she knew she was going to regret this.

but she needed to find sophia before the night got any worse, and if this was the price she had to pay, then so be it.

god help her.

"fine." she gritted out, pinching the bridge of her nose. "i'll get you in. but if you get me kicked out, i will personally make sure you regret it for the rest of your bratty little life."

yoonchae barely reacted.

she just chewed her kimchi thoughtfully, blinked once, and then grinned wider.

___

manon had absolutely no idea why she was still standing here.

this had to be some sort of cosmic punishment. maybe in a past life, she had stolen an entire village's crops, or burned down a sacred temple, because there was no other reason she should be forced to endure this.

yet, here she was.

still in sophia's dorm.

waiting for this teenage menace to get dressed.

manon sighed—a long, suffering sound that came from deep within her soul. then, reluctantly, she followed yoonchae inside, because as much as she wanted to leave this little gremlin behind, she needed her.

or, more specifically, she needed the information locked behind that smug little mouth of hers.

so she waited.

for almost an hour.

sixty entire minutes of existential agony.

sixty minutes of listening to hair dryers whirring, makeup brushes swishing, and the occasional self-satisfied hum from upstairs.

sixty minutes of sitting on sophia's couch, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she could just text megan and lara instead and bypass this entire situation.

by the time she finally heard the click of heels against the wooden stairs, manon was hanging on to the last shreds of her patience.

and then—she looked up.

and her patience officially died.

yoonchae descended the stairs like she was making her grand entrance at the met gala.

she wore a pink string top covered in black polka dots, a scandalously short denim skirt, and—

oh, for the love of god.

white cowboy boots.

white cowboy boots with glitter carvings.

her chestnut brown hair cascaded in perfectly styled waves, her makeup was in full dramatic glam, and in her hand, she clutched a tiny pink furry purse.

like some sort of fashionable demon sent to test manon's will to live.

manon just stared, her mouth slightly open in sheer disbelief.

yoonchae, meanwhile, was completely unfazed. she paused by the mirror at the bottom of the stairs, tilting her head as she admired herself, adjusting the massive diamond earrings she was now sporting.

manon blinked slowly.

and then, sarcastically drawled:

"just to be clear—we're going to a club. not to coachella."

yoonchae met her gaze through the mirror, her expression bored and unimpressed.

then, as if she couldn't possibly care less about manon's opinion, she rolled her eyes, finished fixing her earrings, and turned around.

she took one long, judgmental look at manon's outfit—black leather jacket, fitted jeans, white muscle tee clinging to her abs, combat boots.

and promptly scoffed.

"and you're judging me?" yoonchae said, tilting her head, folding her arms. "you look like every generic action movie protagonist ever. do you even own clothes that aren't designed for a motorcycle chase?"

manon arched a brow.

"do you even own an outfit that doesn't look like barbie had a mental breakdown?"

"excuse me?" yoonchae gasped, deeply offended. "this is chanel!"

"good for chanel," manon said dryly. "she's probably rolling in her grave."

yoonchae let out a dramatic scoff, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stomped past manon toward the door.

"you wouldn't know fashion if it slapped you in the face."

"news flash: i get paid for wearing it, sweetie." manon spat back smugly.

but before yoonchae could continue her diva tantrum, manon grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward the door.

"alright, superstar, let's move. if we stay here any longer, sophia will be back before we even find her."

and with that, they were off.

one of them walking with the effortless confidence of an action hero.

the other stomping in glittering cowboy boots like a popstar on a world tour.

god help them both.

but thanks to the universe and all of the gods above, the car ride was oddly smooth.

too smooth.

manon sat in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against her thigh, eyes flicking between the road and the gps—except, she wasn't even using the gps. she didn't have to.

because yoonchae, sitting beside her in the passenger seat, was giving directions.

and she was giving them with way too much confidence.

"left."

manon flicked on her turn signal, glancing at the girl.

"now take the next right. yeah, yeah, not that one—that one."

manon raised an eyebrow but said nothing, shifting the wheel effortlessly.

"okay, now straight for like... three minutes. then another left—oh, wait, there's a shortcut ahead, take that."

manon didn't even know there was a shortcut there.

but yoonchae? yoonchae knew.

yoonchae knew everything.

like she had memorized every single street, every hidden alley, every alternate route to avoid traffic—like she had done this a hundred times before.

and, knowing her, she probably had.

manon could already picture it. this little gremlin, dressed in some flashy, ridiculous outfit, sneaking out on school nights, hopping into the backseat of some friend's car, blasting music, laughing like she owned the night, a drink in one hand, her phone in the other, effortlessly navigating every single street like it was her second home.

god.

the absolute audacity.

manon gave her a slow, sideways glance.

yoonchae, completely oblivious, was scrolling through her phone, chewing gum, legs crossed like she was on a joyride.

manon turned back to the road, exhaling through her nose.

she could ask.

could demand to know exactly how yoonchae had an entire mental map of the clubbing scene.

but, really?

she didn't need to ask.

because she already knew.

yoonchae jeong was a brat.

a life-of-the-party, rule-breaking, fast-talking brat.

and some things were better left unquestioned.

___

manon had no idea how she had managed to sneak yoonchae into the club without getting them both thrown out, but she had.

they walked side by side through the dimly lit hallway leading into the main club, the sound of deep bass vibrating through the walls, the distant chatter of a crowd growing louder with each step.

manon walked with her usual sharp, purposeful stride, scanning the area as she began listing out the dos and don'ts of the night.

"alright, listen up, kid—"

behind her, yoonchae wasn't even pretending to pay attention.

she strutted along like she was making a dramatic entrance at a fashion show, her boots clicking against the floor with every confident step, her posture exuding untouchable popstar energy.

manon sighed, pressing a hand to her temple.

"okay. rule number one—no drinking."

yoonchae rolled her eyes so hard her entire head nearly followed.

"duh, obviously."

"rule number two—stay close. if i lose you, i'm leaving you here."

that got yoonchae's attention.

she let out a loud scoff, turning her head slightly.

"and rule number three," manon continued, more to herself at this point, "don't do anything that'll get us both thrown out—"

and then, finally, they reached the main club.

the second manon stepped into the bar area, she immediately surveyed the room, her sharp, observant gaze scanning the crowd with practiced ease.

the place was packed—people dancing, drinking, talking over the music, the entire atmosphere buzzing with energy.

sophia had to be here somewhere.

manon turned slightly, ready to tell yoonchae to stick close—

only to find nothing.

she blinked.

looked left.

looked right.

checked behind her.

yoonchae was gone.

just—vanished.

manon exhaled sharply, jaw clenching as her hands landed on her hips.

"unbelievable." she muttered to herself.

they had been here for two minutes.

two.

and she had already lost a whole teenager.

well. that wasn't her problem anymore.

she'd deal with that little runaway menace later.

right now, she had a mission.

and that mission was finding sophia.

so, with a final exasperated sigh, manon squared her shoulders, adjusted her jacket, and stepped further into the crowd—eyes locked in, focused, determined.

because if there was one person in this club who was not about to escape her tonight—her girlfriend.

somewhere at the end of the bar, a trio sat.

she exhaled, setting down her martini.

lara just smiled, taking another sip of her drink. "you'll make up to her."

"...probably."

megan grinned. "definitely."

sophia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't fight the small smile tugging at her lips.

the night at xylo was a full-on party explosion, with neon lights flashing like they were having a rave of their own, and the bass thumping so hard it felt like the floor might just give in.

the air was a heady mix of high-end perfumes and that sharp, boozy aroma bodies were grinding together on the dance floor, laughter and chatter creating a chaotic yet thrilling soundtrack to the evening. it was the kind of scene where people came to escape reality, to indulge in the thrill, and to completely lose themselves in the vibe.

with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, she idly twirled the stem of her martini glass between her fingers, allowing herself to sink into the sheer luxury of doing absolutely nothing. it was a rare moment of peace, one she intended to savor for as long as humanly possible.

or at least, she would have—

if it weren't for the unmistakable presence that suddenly materialized beside their table, disrupting the delicate equilibrium of the night like an ill-timed plot twist in an otherwise well-written novel.

a presence that made lara stiffen ever so slightly, her fingers pausing mid-scroll.

a presence that made megan exhale through her nose, her amusement already tinged with exhaustion.

a presence that made sophia, without even looking up, know that whatever peace she had been enjoying was about to be absolutely obliterated.

"sophia."

that voice.

smooth. self-assured. just the right amount of arrogance to make it clear that he thought he belonged wherever he decided to be.

anthony delos reyes.

like an unwanted plot device, he appeared.

and just like that, the mood soured.

the last thing sophia needed tonight was an uninvited distraction.

and yet, here he was.

like a bad omen, he appeared at the worst possible time, materializing beside her with the easy confidence of someone who had never once considered that his presence might not be welcomed.

she didn't even have to look up to know it was him. she could feel it. that aura of boyish self-assurance, the scent of expensive cologne, the way his posture always seemed to suggest he was in control of whatever conversation he was about to enter.

"evening, ladies." he greeted smoothly, his voice slipping through the music like he had been waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.

sophia barely spared him a glance. "anthony."

her voice was polite. barely.

she kept her eyes on her drink, idly running a manicured finger along the rim of the martini glass, as if his arrival was the least interesting thing that had happened to her all night. which, honestly, it was.

anthony's gaze flickered over her, taking in the effortless elegance she radiated even in this dimly lit, crowded club. the violet silk of her dress clung to her frame in all the right places, the slit revealing the perfect length of her long, flawless leg. her jet-black hair cascaded in big, luxurious waves over her shoulders, and though the low lighting made it difficult to see all the details of her makeup, her glossed lips still caught the light in a way that was undeniably inviting.

but it was her expression—the cool detachment, the slight tilt of her head, the way she held her glass with delicate fingers but exuded the energy of someone utterly unbothered—that told anthony exactly how this was going to go.

lara, sitting beside her, silently rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat just enough to make her irritation known without having to say anything.

unlike sophia's dressed-up elegance, lara had come to the club looking like she wanted to attract the ladies.

she wore a big varsity jacket, unzipped just enough to reveal the black fitted top underneath, snug against her body, showing off her toned abs. black cargo pants hung low on her hips, her iconic boots resting comfortably on the footrest of the barstool. a cap sat low over her crimson-red hair, the whole look effortlessly hot.

megan, on the other hand, had gone for fun and flirty. she sat on sophia's other side, idly sipping her tequila sunrise, her short skirt showing off her long legs, paired with a cute, strapless red leather top that hugged her body in all the right places. she looked every bit the kind of woman who was ready to take over the dance floor.

megan, ever the graceful socialite, lifted her glass in a loose gesture of acknowledgment. "what's up, man?" she said, casual, not particularly invested but not outright dismissive.

unlike lara, megan had long since learned to tolerate anthony's presence in small doses. not because she liked him, but because it was easier than dealing with the awkwardness of actively ignoring him. besides, she was at least mildly entertained by his persistence, like watching a dog try to chase its own tail.

anthony, either oblivious to or undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm, slid into the conversation effortlessly. "didn't expect to see you guys just sitting here," he commented, his tone light and easy. "figured you'd be having a little more fun."

sophia arched a brow, finally looking at him. "i am having fun."

and still, he pushed forward.

"this?" he gestured vaguely at her drink, lips quirking up in amusement. "this is your idea of fun?"

sophia exhaled slowly, swirling her glass just enough to watch the liquid move. "i'm drinking a martini at a club," she said. "that should tell you everything."

lara muffled a laugh behind her glass. megan didn't bother hiding her smirk.

anthony, ever the smooth talker, took the lack of outright dismissal as encouragement. "come on," he said, nudging her playfully. "what's with the serious mood? where's the usual sophia—the one who owns the room the second she steps in?"

sophia gave him a sideways glance, unimpressed. "she's here," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "she's just picking her battles tonight."

that earned a laugh from lara, who leaned back in her seat, arms crossing over the front of her oversized varsity jacket. "that's a very nice way of saying 'i don't have the patience for your shit,anthony.'"

anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "damn, you cut me deep, raj."

sophia hid her amusement behind a sip of her drink, while megan—who had been content to half-listen up until now—suddenly saw an opportunity for chaos.

feeling mischievous and maybe a little tipsy, she rested an elbow on the table and grinned. "her and manon aren't okay right now." she said, tilting her head.

lara's entire body tensed.

sophia immediately shot megan a warning look.

but megan just smirked, eyes twinkling with pure, unfiltered menace.

anthony's expression flickered for the briefest moment. a glimmer of intrigue, quickly masked with something more casual, more calculated. he didn't react too obviously—he knew better than that. but there was a subtle shift, an almost imperceptible change in the way he held himself, like a man sensing an opportunity he hadn't expected.

"really?" he asked, his voice laced with just the right amount of concern.

sophia sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. "megan."

megan simply shrugged, feigning innocence. "what?"

anthony, ever the actor, leaned slightly toward sophia, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel personal. "that's... surprising. you two always seem tight."

sophia's lips barely parted before megan, still feeling dangerously entertained, decided to add more fuel to the fire.

"she's mad because manon missed her play." megan said.

lara snorted, unable to contain her laughter as the memory of manon down on her knees replayed in her head.

sophia, on the other hand, just sighed, rubbing her temple harder.

anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "damn." he said, his voice still light but now tinged with something thoughtful. "that's too bad."

sophia exhaled sharply, looking away.

anthony chuckled again, though there was a glint in his eye—one that lingered on sophia just a second too long. his voice remained easy, but there was an undercurrent of something more as he spoke.

"well," he said, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting it down. "if you ever want to talk about it... i'm here."

sophia glanced at him, expression unreadable.

lara looked at megan, her eyes screaming why did you do this.

megan just grinned, sipping her drink.

sophia simply sighed, already exhausted by the night.

anthony, ever the persistent one, leaned in slightly, his signature easy grin in place, as if he thought the sheer charm of it would be enough to sway her.

"tara, dance with me?" he said, tilting his head toward the crowded dance floor, where bodies moved in sync to the deep bass of the music.

sophia barely suppressed a sigh, though she remained composed. she was used to this—anthony and his relentless belief that he could somehow break through an invisible barrier she had never given him any reason to believe was breakable.

she met his gaze with polite indifference. "i'm good, thanks."

anthony, either not hearing her or choosing not to, huffed out a playful chuckle. "oh, come on," he tried again. "one dance. you're all dressed up—might as well show off a little."

sophia gave him a single, bored blink. "i don't dance for free, anthony."

megan let out a short, amused breath through her nose, while lara—who had been calmly watching the exchange with the sharp, quiet intensity of a predator assessing a threat—let her fingers drum against the side of her glass.

anthony, still very much in the game, lifted both hands in mock surrender. "fine, fine. i'll owe you one."

"i don't do credit, either."

lara actually let out a small chuckle at that, while megan lazily swirled the ice in her drink, eyes flicking between them like she was watching an overly long game of ping-pong.

anthony exhaled, shaking his head with a smile. "you always make things difficult."

sophia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving just a fraction. "and yet, you keep coming back."

the look anthony gave her was unreadable for a moment—just the briefest flicker of something behind his carefully curated nonchalance. but before he could try again, before he could find another angle to push through, lara finally intervened.

smooth. subtle. just enough to remind anthony of the limits of this interaction.

"you should listen to her, man," lara said, her voice casual but firm. "she doesn't want to dance."

her words were light, almost offhanded, but there was a weight to them. a quiet warning.

anthony hesitated, eyes flickering toward lara, who remained entirely at ease, leaning back slightly in her seat with the lazy confidence of someone who knew she had nothing to prove but was prepared to shut things down if necessary.

for a second, the tension between them was almost imperceptible—a charged moment that passed as quickly as it formed.

then, anthony exhaled through his nose, offering up his hands in gracious defeat. "alright, alright. no need to send out the attack dog."

lara merely smirked. "good choice."

anthony's eyes lingered on sophia for just a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he leaned back, picking up his drink with a casual shrug. "didn't mean to overstep," he said lightly. "just thought you could use a little fun."

sophia, who had been annoyed at first, decided to let the tension dissolve. she wasn't in the mood for unnecessary hostility tonight.

so, in an effort to lighten the mood, she let her hand slip beneath the table, finding lara's and giving it a gentle squeeze—her way of silently telling her thank you, i'm fine, it's okay.

lara glanced at her, and though her expression didn't change much, there was a brief flicker of understanding before she gave sophia's hand a quick, reassuring squeeze in return.

megan, meanwhile, had been eerily quiet throughout the whole exchange.

she sat back in her seat, legs crossed, fingers tapping idly against her glass. her body language was calm, almost unreadable, but there was something in the way her gaze remained fixed on anthony for a second too long that suggested she was thinking things over.

as anthony finally backed away, he downed the rest of his drink and offered sophia one last smooth, lopsided smile.

"alright, i'll stop pushing. for now," he said, his tone light, but there was something unreadable in his gaze—an unspoken challenge, a stubborn unwillingness to fully concede. "enjoy your night, soph."

sophia didn't bother with anything more than a short, disinterested nod, already turning her focus back to her martini as if he had ceased to exist the moment he stepped away.

anthony took the hint and, with a lingering glance, melted back into the crowd.

the moment he was out of earshot, lara exhaled heavily, running a hand through her crimson-red hair before shaking her head. "ugh. i thought i was going to have to start barking."

megan, who had been quietly watching anthony leave, let out a snicker. "would've been funny. scare him off for good."

sophia, still stirring the toothpick around in her glass, turned her gaze to megan with a flat look. "did you really have to bring that up?"

megan turned to her, eyes wide in faux innocence. "what? i was just being honest. it's funny watching you walk him like a dog." she lifted her drink to her lips, grinning over the rim. "heel, anthony. sit. stay."

lara barked out a laugh, shaking her head while sophia rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. "great. just what i needed—commentary from the peanut gallery."

megan only grinned wider. "you're welcome."

sophia sighed, tilting her head back slightly before returning her attention to her drink.

maybe coming here had been a mistake.

what was supposed to be a casual night out—a chance to unwind and shake off the lingering frustration she felt toward manon—had turned into yet another tedious encounter with anthony and his misplaced persistence.

this was supposed to be a break. a night to just breathe.

instead, she was sitting here, stewing in emotions she didn't want to name, pretending she was fine when, deep down, she just felt... exhausted.

she knew what was bothering her, of course.

she missed manon.

and she hated that she missed her.

or—no. that wasn't true.

she didn't hate missing manon. she hated that it meant she was the one losing in this silent, petty standoff between them.

she hated that, despite everything, she just wanted her.

if manon were here, anthony wouldn't have even tried.

if manon were here, she would've had her arm draped around the back of sophia's chair, her presence a silent but unmistakable claim. she would have met anthony's playful flirtation with a raised brow and a subtle smirk, the kind that said try it, i dare you.

she would've leaned in close, murmured something in sophia's ear—something low and possessive that sent a shiver down her spine.

and if anthony had still been stupid enough to press forward?

well. manon had never been the type to start a fight.

but she had always been the type to finish one.

the thought made sophia's heart clench in a way she wasn't ready to deal with.

she had been so determined to stay mad—to hold onto her disappointment, her frustration, the sting of knowing that manon had missed her play. the one thing she had explicitly asked her to show up for.

but now? sitting here, nursing a martini that was starting to taste a little too bitter, she just felt tired.

tired of pretending she wasn't thinking about manon.

tired of pretending she wasn't waiting for her.

tired of pretending she didn't wish she were here.

sophia pushed her glass away slightly, sighing under her breath.

lara, who had been quietly observing her for the past few minutes, nudged her arm. "you okay?"

"i'm fine." sophia said automatically.

lara gave her a look. the kind of look that said, really?

sophia sighed again, softer this time. "...i should've just stayed home."

megan hummed. "you mean stayed home and been miserable alone instead of here with us?"

sophia didn't dignify that with a response, only shaking her head.

lara rested her chin on her palm, watching her with quiet understanding. "you don't have to say it, but we all know what's up."

megan pointedly swirled her drink. "mhm. you miss her."

sophia's expression didn't change, but her fingers curled slightly against the tabletop.

she didn't deny it.

didn't confirm it, either.

lara chuckled. "you're tough, huh."

megan snorted. "just say it, babe. 'i miss manon, i wish she was here, i'm tired of playing the villain in my own love story—'"

sophia shot her a look.

megan raised her hands in surrender. "fine. i'll let you be miserable in peace."

lara smirked, nudging sophia again. "we get it, though. even when you're mad at her, she's still your person."

sophia's lips pressed together.

yeah.

she was.

and maybe, she was done pretending she didn't want to fix this.

back in the dance floor, it was a blur of flashing lights, pulsing music, and bodies moving in sync with the beat.

the swiss wove through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning every face, every silhouette, searching for the one person she actually wanted to see tonight. sophia.

the club was suffocatingly crowded, and with every step, she found herself bumping into strangers, muttering a quick "sorry" only to be shoved forward by someone else. it was a frustrating game of human pinball, but she pushed through, determined.

and then—she collided into someone.

hard.

manon caught her balance immediately, ready to keep moving, but then she looked up.

and just like that—her entire mood soured.

because it wasn't just anyone.

anthony delos reyes.

of course.

their eyes met, and for a moment, manon could practically feel the familiar, exhausting irritation creeping up her spine. every single time she saw this guy, it was like a test of her patience—one she barely passed.

anthony, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. in fact, he even had the audacity to flash her one of those fake, cool-guy smirks.

"bannerman." he greeted smoothly, his voice dripping with false friendliness.

manon stared at him, unimpressed. "anthony."

that was all she gave him. one word. short, clipped, uninterested.

then, without another thought, she moved to walk past him—because she did not have time for this.

but before she could even take a step—a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her.

manon immediately tensed.

anthony, as if completely unaware of how quickly he was testing his luck, tilted his head and asked, "what's the rush? let's hang out for a bit."

manon exhaled sharply through her nose, coolly shrugging off his hand. "i'm busy."

anthony raised a brow. "busy with what?"

manon turned to him fully, keeping her voice as casual and composed as ever.

"looking for my girlfriend."

she said it on purpose.

anthony's smirk faltered—just a little.

but he was quick to recover, nodding slowly, as if he were playing some private game.

"oh yeah," he mused, his voice taking on a taunting lilt. "i heard about that. you two aren't doing so well, huh?"

manon clenched her jaw.

this guy.

every bone in her body told her to drop him right here, right now. but she forced herself to stay calm, rolling her shoulders back as she responded smoothly, but firmly.

"not really your business, is it?"

anthony pouted dramatically, as if she had hurt his feelings. "hey now, i'm just making a conversation."

manon scoffed. she wasn't an idiot. she knew exactly what he was doing.

and then—he said it.

the one thing that immediately set her off.

"just checking if i might finally score a shot, you know."

manon's eyes darkened.

a slow, icy smirk crept onto her lips, but there was zero amusement behind it.

"oh, you're serious?" she drawled, tilting her head slightly. "that's cute. delusional, but cute."

anthony's smirk twitched, but he kept up his act, his shoulders loose, his stance cocky.

"can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugged. "i mean, it's only a matter of time, right?"

manon took a step closer, her voice dropping into something dangerously low, dangerously lethal.

"don't. test. me."

the two locked eyes, tension crackling like a live wire between them.

for a moment, it seemed like things were about to get ugly.

but then, anthony backed off.

raising his hands in mock surrender, he chuckled, stepping away as if this was all some lighthearted joke.

manon exhaled through her nose, scoffing, and turned to leave.

but just as she was about to walk away—she heard it.

a single, muttered comment.

something quiet, but unmistakable.

something that made her stop in her tracks.

anthony, under his breath, sneered:

"fucking dyke."

for a brief, charged second—manon didn't move.

then, without hesitation—she turned back around.

the low murmur of voices rippled through the club, subtle at first, just background noise to the pulsing music and the clinking of glasses.

it was the kind of shift in atmosphere that wasn't immediately noticeable—just a slight change in the air, a faint crackle of tension beneath the usual buzz of conversation.

sophia, still absentmindedly stirring the olive in her martini, didn't pay it much mind at first. instead, she turned to lara, her tone casual, unfazed. "how's rhea's full album coming along?"

lara didn't answer.

the silence stretched just a second too long.

sophia blinked, finally glancing up from her glass.

lara wasn't looking at her.

her crimson brows were drawn together, her sharp gaze fixed on something across the club. her fingers drummed idly against the rim of her glass, but there was a new stiffness in her shoulders—something subtly alert.

sophia's gaze flickered toward megan, who was equally uncharacteristically quiet. she had her drink lifted to her lips, but she wasn't drinking. she was staring, too.

sophia frowned.

then she followed their gaze.

a small crowd had gathered near the entrance, murmurs growing louder, heads subtly turning toward whatever was happening at the center.

sophia squinted, trying to make out the scene, but all she could see were flashes of movement. a tense stance. a broad frame.

the energy in that small section of the club was different—charged.

slowly, she rose from her high chair, her hands lightly gripping the edge of the table for balance as she tried to get a better view.

and then she saw it.

a flicker of motion. a familiar silhouette just at the edge of her vision.

and then—a long, thick braid.

tied up in a high ponytail, swaying ever so slightly as the person shifted.

sophia's breath hitched.

no.

no, it couldn't be.

plenty of people had braids. plenty of people had high ponytails. it was just a coincidence. a trick of the dim club lighting.

but then—the person turned just slightly, just enough that the light caught the edge of their jawline.

a strong, sharp jaw.

a dark-skinned, unmistakable jawline.

sophia's heart plummeted to her stomach.

manon.

she didn't even realize she had stopped breathing.

her grip on the edge of the table tightened, fingers curling slightly against the cool surface as her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing.

no, it couldn't be. manon wasn't supposed to be here. she was supposed to be—where?

out somewhere on a job? at a photoshoot? too busy to show up for her, apparently?

then what the hell was she doing here?

sophia felt the blood rush to her ears, a roaring white noise drowning out the music as she tried to process the scene before her.

before she could find her voice, megan muttered under her breath, "is that... manon?"

sophia didn't respond.

she didn't move at all.

her eyes stayed locked on the unfolding scene ahead, her pulse hammering in her throat.

just this moment.

just her.

the collective laughter from the crowd rippled through the air, loud enough to cut through the heavy bass of the music, loud enough to make sophia's pulse jump in confusion.

her eyes darted between lara and megan, as if they had any more insight than she did, but they were just as clueless. the tension that had settled in their booth was now fully charged, and sophia felt something burning under her skin—annoyance, curiosity, dread.

and then she was on her feet.

she didn't even register the movement—one moment she was gripping the table, the next she was marching.

her violet silk dress swayed against her legs as she moved, her heels clicking sharply against the club floor, cutting through the murmur of onlookers. she had no idea what was happening—what stupid thing manon had done this time—but she was going to find out.

was she here to terrorize sophia again? was she about to cause another scene?

lara's voice rang out behind her. "sophia—wait."

she didn't.

she kept walking, her jaw tight, expression serious, weaving through the shifting bodies of onlookers, her heart pounding with something she couldn't name.

and then she saw her.

manon.

standing with her back to her, broad shoulders squared, long braid hanging perfectly still down her back.

her girlfriend.

sophia's breath caught.

for a second—just a second—she forgot why she was mad.

it was something about seeing her, being in the same space as her after days of ignoring her texts and cold-shouldering her desperate apologies.

god, she missed her.

but then her gaze dropped.

and she saw him.

anthony.

on the ground.

holding his cheek.

sophia's brows furrowed.

what the hell?

she barely had time to process the image before anthony was pushing himself back to his feet, his expression livid, the club lights casting sharp shadows over his face. his jaw clenched, his eyes locked onto manon with something close to fury.

and then—

"gago 'to ah!" anthony spat, voice low, barely contained. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

sophia stopped in her tracks.

her gaze flickered back to manon.

she stood there, her posture relaxed, exuding that unnerving calm she always had, like she wasn't even remotely threatened.

like she wasn't even concerned.

her face was unreadable.

no regret. no flustered panic. just manon, standing there, as if punching anthony had been the most natural thing in the world.

the tension in the air crackled.

the crowd around them was waiting—watching.

sophia barely registered the way people whispered to each other, the amused glances, the murmur of intrigue. but all she could feel was the rush of something heady and hot in her chest.

manon, who had been chasing her down for the past few days for an apology.

manon, who had probably sworn to lara and megan that she'd behave if she ever saw sophia again.

manon, who had clearly lasted five minutes in the same club before throwing a punch at anthony.

sophia's fists curled at her sides.

what did she do this time?

the atmosphere was so thick with tension, it could practically strangle you.

for a heartbeat, everything was amplified—the blaring music, the whispers swirling around, and the sound of anthony's heavy breathing through clenched teeth. yet, in that chaos, it felt like nothing else mattered. not the blinding neon lights, not the throngs of people—just manon, standing her ground, and anthony, who looked like he was about to explode.

then manon, her voice smooth yet sharp as a knife, sliced through the clamor.

"say that again, and i'll rearrange your face so thoroughly, even your mother won't recognize you."

the reaction was immediate.

a ripple of noise moved through the crowd like a wave, rising and cresting into a chorus of amused gasps and murmured ooohs—the universal sound of people recognizing that something was about to go down. some of them exchanged excited glances, already sensing the incoming drama, while others—the real instigators—had the audacity to start recording, their phones slipping out like weapons being drawn for battle.

sophia felt a fire ignite in her chest—intense and immediate.

she had no clue what anthony had said to set her off, but the way manon delivered her threat—calm yet lethal—made her stomach churn.

anthony, visibly seething, barely seemed to register the audience around him. his face was flushed red—whether from anger or humiliation, sophia couldn't tell—but his hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body vibrating with barely contained rage.

"you know i could sue you for this, right?" he spat, his voice sharp, his words laced with venom. "you assaulted me."

that did it.

the crowd roared.

not out of concern, but out of sheer disbelief that he had the gall to play the victim. even sophia, still standing quietly at the back, felt her lips twitch at the sheer audacity of it.

and manon?

she just laughed.

not forced. not mocking.

a genuine laugh, deep and rich, like he had just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

"oh, please," she drawled, shaking her head as if she was genuinely disappointed in him. "go ahead, pretty boy, call up daddy's lawyer. i'm sure he'd love to waste his time on a case where you got your fragile little feelings hurt because you ran your mouth and got popped for it."

the uproar that followed could have shattered glass.

it was the worst thing she could have said to anthony—because she didn't just insult him. she undermined him.

and the crowd ate it up.

people were howling, some clutching their chests like they had physically taken damage. a few high-fived each other as if they were courtside at a basketball game and had just witnessed a game-winning dunk. even the people recording could barely hold their phones steady because they were laughing too hard.

anthony stood stiffly in the middle of it all, his jaw clenched so tight that the veins in his neck were visible, his entire existence shrinking under the weight of a public humiliation he clearly hadn't been prepared for.

sophia, meanwhile, felt her hand fly to her mouth, her fingers covering her lips as she let out an involuntary gasp.

not in horror.

in delight.

oh, manon.

she wasn't supposed to encourage this. she shouldn't find it this funny.

but she did.

because god help her, manon had a point.

sophia tried—really tried—to suppress the laugh bubbling in her throat, but it was useless. it slipped out anyway, muffled behind her hand but very much there, her shoulders shaking from the force of it.

and when manon—standing tall, proud, and completely unbothered—tilted her head slightly, her lips quirking into a smirk like she knew exactly what she was doing.

sophia nearly lost it.

god, she love her.

the realization sent a fresh wave of warmth through her chest, burning bright and hot, making her fingers twitch at her sides.

anthony still stood there, fuming, his pride bruised beyond repair. but he didn't say anything. he couldn't.

because manon had won.

and deep down, everyone—including him—knew it.

anthony let out a dry, humorless chuckle, but his eyes were void of any amusement. just pure rage.

in a flash, he closed the gap between them, his finger poking dangerously close to manon's face.

"you should be grateful," he hissed, dripping with disdain, "because i don't hit women."

a muscle in manon's jaw twitched.

and then—he shoved her.

with force.

it wasn't enough to knock her off her feet, but it was enough to make her stumble back a step.

gasps rippled through the crowd.

manon caught her footing easily, straightening back up, her posture loose—but something about the way she looked at anthony made the hair on sophia's arms rise.

there was a darkness in her expression now.

no flinching. no backing down. just the same, eerily calm exterior.

but sophia knew her.

she knew that silence was the most dangerous kind.

her chest tightened.

the shove wasn't just an act of aggression. it was a statement.

and sophia saw red.

she had never seen anyone lay a hand on manon before—had never even considered the possibility. the very thought of it was unfathomable, because manon was the strongest person she knew, both in presence and in sheer physicality. manon, who never let anything faze her. manon, who carried herself with the kind of effortless confidence that made people step aside without her even having to say a word.

sophia had felt many things about anthony delos reyes over the years—annoyance, mild amusement, exasperation, an ever-growing sense of irritation—but this was different. this was fury.

the second his hand left manon's shoulder, sophia moved.

it wasn't calculated. it wasn't graceful or controlled like the way she usually carried herself. it was instinct.

her body surged forward, cutting through the space between them with a single, sharp movement, her heels clicking against the floor like the warning shots before a war.

she was in anthony's face before he could react, her hand slamming against his with enough force to make the sound crack through the air.

the shock of it rippled through the crowd, the noise around them dropping to a murmur.

anthony flinched back slightly, his eyes widening as he finally registered her.

and for the first time that night, he looked afraid.

because sophia wasn't just standing in front of manon.

she was shielding her.

her stance was unyielding, her body angled ever so slightly in front of manon's, like she was preparing herself for something. her breath came out in slow, controlled exhales, but her hands were shaking from how tightly she was clenching them into fists.

anthony blinked, his mouth opening as if to say something, but sophia wasn't finished.

her voice, when she spoke, was dangerously low, each word slow and precise, as though she was holding back something much worse.

"put your hands on her again," she murmured, her voice like ice cracking under pressure, "and i swear on everything you hold dear, you'll regret it." 

a chill ran through the air.

anthony's lips parted slightly, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

because there was something new in sophia's expression.

something lethal.

the usual playful, spoiled confidence she carried was nowhere to be found. instead, her eyes were blazing with something untamed, something sharp-edged and protective and terrifyingly real.

anthony had spent years convincing himself that he understood sophia.

that he knew how to charm her, how to tease her, how to hold her attention.

but this sophia was something else entirely.

and the worst part?

it wasn't even him she was angry for.

it was manon.

it had always been manon.

a realization flickered across anthony's face, like something clicking into place that he had spent far too long trying to ignore.

sophia never looked at him the way she was looking at manon right now.

like nothing in the world mattered more than making sure she was safe.

the silence that followed was a living thing, thick and suffocating, stretching through the club in an almost unnatural stillness. for one long, breathless moment, it was as if time itself had hesitated, caught between the shock of what had just unfolded and the inevitable aftermath that would follow.

the music still pulsed faintly through the speakers, the bass vibrating beneath their feet, but it felt distant, like background noise to a far less orchestrated symphony—the raw, electric charge of an entire room holding its breath.

and then—

"oh, shit."

the words weren't particularly loud, muttered somewhere within the sea of onlookers, but they shattered the fragile quiet like a stone through glass. a ripple of energy burst through the crowd, reigniting the atmosphere with a feverish kind of exhilaration.

there was an immediate explosion of murmurs, scattered laughter, and the unmistakable rustle of people scrambling for their phones, eager to capture every possible angle of the moment.

"did you see that?"

"laforteza just put delos reyes in his place—"

"the faculty is going to go insane tomorrow—"

"this is better than the group chat drama—"

it was chaos in its purest form, a collective reaction of disbelief and amusement, all directed toward the same unfortunate figure standing dumbstruck in the middle of it all—anthony delos reyes.

for once in his carefully cultivated, perfectly polished existence, he had nothing to say. his usual effortless charm, that golden-boy confidence that made people fall in line without question, had vanished.

he was still standing—barely—but the weight of humiliation hung from his shoulders, dragging him down. his mouth opened and closed, words seemingly forming and then slipping through his fingers before he could catch them, making him look painfully, pathetically lost.

sophia almost laughed.

almost stayed long enough to enjoy watching him stumble over whatever weak, pitiful excuse he might attempt to offer.

but she had bigger priorities.

because none of this—the whispers, the spectacle, the promise of her name headlining tomorrow's gossip—mattered. not compared to the real reason she was still standing here, spine rigid, body thrumming with the kind of fury that could melt steel.

he had dared.

he had dared to threaten her girl.

her manon.

the thought alone sent another sharp wave of rage coursing through her, making her fingers twitch with the barely restrained urge to shove anthony back even harder.

her hand remained raised, poised in the air like an unspoken warning, her manicured finger still hovering inches from his nose. every inch of her posture was controlled, measured, precise, but her eyes—sharp and unforgiving—spoke volumes. they burned with the unyielding promise of retribution, daring him to test her again.

but anthony, for all his arrogance, wasn't completely stupid.

he didn't speak.

didn't even breathe too loudly.

and just as sophia prepared to land the final blow—one last scathing remark to cement his downfall—she felt it.

a warmth at her waist.

a slow, deliberate touch.

manon.

sophia didn't have to turn her head to know. she felt the familiar weight of those fingers slipping over the silk of her dress, steady and sure, curling just slightly against the fabric in a silent, grounding gesture. a touch that wasn't meant to hold her back—never to restrain her—but to remind her.

to tell her that she didn't have to do this alone.

that she didn't need to.

then, another touch—this time at her hand.

the one still pointed toward anthony.

manon's fingers moved over hers, slow and deliberate, her touch feather-light but unmistakably firm. she didn't pull sophia's hand down, didn't force her to retreat, simply laid her palm there, skin against skin, warm and steady in a way that made sophia's pulse stutter.

and then—just when she thought she had regained control of herself—

"it's fine, baby."

baby.

it was soft, low, barely above a whisper, but the word slipped past manon's lips so smoothly, so easily, that it cut through sophia's anger like a blade through silk.

something warm and insidious curled in her stomach, distracting her in a way she loathed. because she knew exactly what manon was doing. knew that she had lowered her voice just enough for sophia to hear it in a way that made her nerves sing. knew that calling her baby in this moment—right now, right here, in front of everyone—was the quickest way to slip under her skin, to twist the heat of her anger into something else entirely.

sophia hated how well manon knew her.

hated the way her body instinctively responded, how her breathing faltered for just a fraction of a second, how she found herself leaning—leaning—into the solid warmth behind her before she could stop herself.

and then manon's fingers shifted again, brushing against the curve of her waist with that same maddening ease, like they belonged there.

which, infuriatingly, they did.

the possessiveness in that small, almost imperceptible movement sent something hot and dangerous rushing through sophia's veins. it was a silent declaration, a quiet she's mine without a single word spoken.

and sophia?

despite herself, despite her fury, despite everything?

she let her.

she let manon hold her, let herself sink into that grounding warmth, let her touch bleed away the sharpest edges of her rage, leaving something else in its place—something softer, something unspoken, something dangerously close to surrender.

manon had known, from the moment anthony had pushed her, that sophia would react. had known that she would protect her, shield her, fight for her without hesitation.

and now—now that she had—manon was doing the same in return.

not with fists, not with words, but with this.

with her touch.

with her.

for a moment, sophia did not move. she did not speak. she did not even breathe.

the fury that had been surging through her, hot and relentless, still pulsed beneath her skin, but something else cut through it now, something quiet and grounding.

manon's hand was still wrapped around hers, their fingers loosely interwoven—a steady warmth against the fire in her veins. and despite the roaring in her ears, despite the tempest of emotions swirling inside her, she felt it.

the way manon was holding her, careful yet certain, like an anchor in the storm, like she knew exactly how close sophia had been to unraveling completely.

manon's touch was not a restraint, not a warning, but a silent reminder—one so effortless, so instinctive, that it sent a different kind of heat curling through sophia's chest. it told her she didn't have to lose herself in her rage, didn't need to give anthony the satisfaction of seeing her explode. and somehow, impossibly, that was what did it.

that was what made her breath hitch, what forced her to shift her focus away from anthony's pathetic, wounded pride and onto manon instead.

slowly, ever so slowly, she turned, her body still taut with residual fury, but her gaze—when it met manon's—was something else entirely.

manon's expression was serious, unreadable, but not unkind. there was no trace of anger, no sign that she had been affected by anthony's shove, by his petty insults, by the spectacle he had made of himself. she stood as if none of it mattered in the slightest, as if the weight of the world had barely grazed her.

but she was not concerned about herself. no, despite everything, she was worried about sophia. and that realization struck sophia deeper than she was prepared for.

a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed in her chest, something that wasn't rage, wasn't indignation, wasn't any of the usual things she let herself feel. it was softer, quieter, something she didn't yet have the words for.

and manon, ever attuned to her, must have noticed. because her grip shifted, her thumb brushing over the back of sophia's hand in a feather-light stroke, so delicate, so devastatingly tender, that it nearly made sophia forget where they were. nearly.

then, just as quickly as it came, the softness was gone.

she tore her gaze away from manon and fixed it back on anthony, her expression darkening, her lips pressing into a thin, unimpressed line. whatever gentleness had flickered to life inside her, whatever unspoken thing had been brewing between them in that moment, it was swallowed whole by the coiling resurgence of her anger.

anthony, still standing there, looked wrecked. not in the sense that he had been physically beaten—no, manon's single, precise hit had been enough to bruise but not break—but in the sense that he had been emotionally stripped bare.

it was written all over his face, in the way his bravado had crumbled into nothingness, in the way he was finally realizing the gravity of what had just transpired.

he had not only embarrassed himself, but he had done so in front of a hundred watchful eyes, in front of sophia laforteza, who now stared him down like he was worth less than the dirt on her designer heels. and that? that was something no amount of damage control could fix.

sophia could have stayed, could have watched him flounder and crumble under the weight of his own humiliation. she could have enjoyed the slow, agonizing downfall of a man who thought he could get away with everything.

but she had more important things to do—like getting manon out of here. so, with one last lingering glare, one final, silent warning that promised devastation if he ever tried something like this again, she tightened her grip on manon's hand and spun on her heel.

then, without a single ounce of hesitation, she dragged her away.

the crowd parted for them like the sea before a storm. no one stood in their way. no one dared. because this wasn't just an exit—it was a statement. it was sophia storming off, her violet silk dress trailing behind her in sharp, elegant movements, her heels clicking against the floor with a kind of authority that made heads turn and stay turned.

it was manon, effortlessly keeping pace despite being unceremoniously pulled along, her dark braid swinging behind her, her expression unreadable but unmistakably amused at the way sophia was practically marching them out like they owned the place.

phones followed them, cameras panned, whispers rippled through the air like static electricity. this moment would live far beyond the club. it would be dissected in campus group chats, replayed in grainy videos with captions like "SOPHIA DRAGGED MANON BANNERMAN, HER GF OUT AFTER DEFENDING HER—REAL LIFE ENEMIES TO LOVERS???"

but sophia didn't care. she didn't even notice the flashing screens, the murmured speculation, the wide-eyed stares of those who had just witnessed history being made.

the only thing she noticed was the heat of manon's palm against hers, the way their fingers remained intertwined, the way—despite being hauled through the club with the force of someone who had already claimed victory—manon didn't resist, didn't pull away.

if anything, sophia could feel the subtle squeeze of her fingers tightening just slightly, a silent reassurance, a quiet i'm here. i'm with you. let's go.

and just before they disappeared completely, before the club doors swung shut behind them, the cameras all panned back to anthony.

he stood there, still looking utterly ruined, still processing the full weight of what had just happened—that sophia laforteza had not only chosen manon, but had shielded her, defended her, dragged her away like she was hers and hers alone.

in the back of the crowd, lara and megan exchanged a look.

lara, arms crossed, head slightly tilted, watched the scene unfold with a smirk of pure, undeniable satisfaction. megan, barely containing her glee, her phone still recording, let out a breathless giggle before leaning over to whisper, "dani is gonna lose her shit when she sees this."

___

the alleyway was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just left behind. the pounding bass of the club still echoed faintly in the distance, muffled by the thick walls and the heavy metal door that had slammed shut behind them.

out here, the air was crisp, untouched by the humidity of the crowded dance floor, yet thick with something else—something charged, something electric, something dangerous.

sophia barely noticed the change in atmosphere, her entire body still thrumming with unspent fury. the second they were alone, truly alone, she whirled around so fast that the hem of her silk dress flared out around her, her breath sharp and uneven.

the fire in her veins had not dimmed; if anything, it burned hotter in the absence of a watching audience. her dark eyes, fierce and blazing, locked onto manon like a predator setting its sights on its prey.

manon simply stood there, infuriatingly composed despite having been dragged from the club like some rebellious delinquent being reprimanded by a very, very pissed-off girlfriend.

the distant neon glow of a streetlamp illuminated her in sharp, striking contrast, casting long shadows across the alleyway, catching the precise angles of her jawline, the slight furrow of her brows, the way her lips were parted just enough to suggest she was already preparing to defend herself before sophia could even begin.

it was a smart move, an anticipatory act of self-preservation, because when sophia finally spoke, her voice was low and lethal.

"how many times are you going to humiliate yourself like this, manon?"

she spat the words like venom, but manon barely reacted.

no flinch, no hesitation—just the smallest flicker of amusement in the way her lips twitched, so imperceptible yet infuriatingly obvious to sophia, who had spent far too much time memorizing every expression, every microreaction. that single twitch made her anger flare hotter, crackling like a live wire.

"he deserved that." manon said, her voice quiet but unwavering.

sophia inhaled sharply, dragging a manicured hand down her face in a vain attempt to force herself into something resembling calm.

calm. right.

like that was even remotely possible. not when manon was standing there with that maddeningly serene expression, like she hadn't just made an absolute spectacle of herself back in the club.

like she hadn't just gotten into a fight with anthony delos reyes in front of hundreds of people. like she hadn't made sophia's blood boil with the sheer audacity of it all.

if it had been anyone else, sophia would have torn them to shreds by now.

but this wasn't just anyone.

this was manon.

and instead of tearing into her, all sophia could do was burn in the unbearable heat between them.

she turned away sharply, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, inhaling deep, slow, like she could physically exhale her frustration away.

manon remained exactly where she was, watching her with an unreadable gaze, standing still and unapologetic.

the worst part?

she looked obnoxiously, outrageously hot while doing it.

sophia hated that about her.

hated that even now—even with fury coursing through her, with every logical part of her mind screaming at her to stay mad—her body still betrayed her.

still reacted to the sight of manon standing there, tall and broad and impossibly alluring, her long braid slightly loosened from the earlier commotion, strands of it framing her sculpted face in a way that made sophia's fingers itch to reach out, to touch.

the dim lighting cast shifting shadows across her cheekbones, and her dark eyes, locked onto sophia, carried a quiet intensity, an unwavering focus that sent an unwilling shiver down her spine.

like sophia was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

like she was the only thing that mattered.

and sophia hated that, too.

because it made her weak.

made her stupid.

made her dangerously close to forgetting why she was even angry in the first place.

but then, manon, still infuriatingly calm, had the nerve to speak again.

"i did what i've always wanted to do." she said, her voice smooth, unruffled.

sophia snapped.

her head whipped toward manon so fast that her hair nearly smacked her in the face, but she didn't care. all she cared about was the ridiculous, insufferable, smug look on manon's face, like she had just done something noble instead of throwing both of them into the center of an unnecessary, overdramatic scene.

"you did what you've always wanted to do?" sophia repeated, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "really?"

manon just shrugged.

shrugged.

like she hadn't just pummeled a man in front of an entire audience. like she hadn't just thrown gasoline on the fire of campus gossip. like she hadn't just ensured that by tomorrow morning, their names would be everywhere.

"you're lucky i only punched him once." manon said evenly.

sophia let out a laugh—a sharp, incredulous laugh—because of course manon would say something like that.

"lucky? oh, lucky!?" she threw her hands up, pacing the tiny alley like she needed to physically walk her frustration off before it made her combust. "tell me, manon, which part of this situation is supposed to make me feel lucky?"

manon crossed her arms, her jaw tightening slightly. "the part where i didn't do worse."

sophia froze.

then she turned slowly, her expression unreadable, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "worse?" she echoed, her voice deceptively soft.

manon held her gaze. "yeah. worse."

sophia scoffed, taking a deliberate step forward, closing the space between them. "so what, you were planning to beat him unconscious in the middle of the club? would that have made you happy?"

manon's lips twitched slightly. "yes."

sophia let out a groan so dramatic it could have won her an award.

"you are impossible!" she cried, gripping her own hair in frustration before jabbing a finger into manon's chest. "do you ever think before you act? do you ever consider how this affects me?"

manon's expression darkened slightly at that. "him putting his hands on me affects you more than me standing up for myself?"

sophia faltered slightly, but only for a second. "that's not what i meant, and you know it."

manon tilted her head, her gaze unreadable. "then what do you mean, sophia?"

sophia clenched her fists, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

what did she mean?

that she wasn't used to feeling this helpless? that the sight of manon being shoved had made something feral snap inside her? that she hadn't even thought—hadn't even hesitated—before stepping in between them, because the idea of someone laying a hand on manon had made her see red?

that she had spent so much time thinking manon was untouchable—unshakable—that seeing her be hurt had sent her into a tailspin?

but of course, she couldn't say any of that.

so instead, she said—

"you're embarrassing."

manon blinked. "excuse me?"

sophia huffed, crossing her arms. "you heard me. you're embarrassing. you walk around with this cool, mysterious model reputation, and then you go and punch someone in the middle of a club?"

manon arched a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "oh, i'm embarrassing?"

sophia nodded vigorously. "yes! you're embarrassing!"

manon's lips twitched. "that's funny, because you were the one who slapped his hand away and threatened him like some kind of mob boss' spoiled daughter."

sophia gasped, scandalized. "i was not like a mob boss' spoiled daughter!"

manon raised an eyebrow and smirked. "and i wasn't the one who stood there like an angry mom, jabbing a finger at his face. honestly, i half-expected you to whip out a glove and give him a good old-fashioned slap!"

sophia's mouth opened and closed, words failing her for a moment before she finally snapped, "that's different!"

manon's smirk widened. "how?"

sophia faltered. "because—because—i wasn't the one who started the fight!"

manon chuckled, shaking her head. "right. you just ended it in the most dramatic way possible."

sophia's face flamed. "i wasn't dramatic!"

manon gave her a look. "sophia."

sophia huffed, turning away. "whatever. that's not the point."

manon took a step forward, her voice gentler now. "then what is the point?"

sophia swallowed.

the point was that she wasn't used to this feeling—this helpless, out-of-control feeling that made her care too much.

the point was that she had spent years perfecting the art of being unbothered, only for manon to come into her life and ruin all of that.

the point was that when anthony had shoved manon, something inside her had snapped, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from stepping in, because—

because it was manon.

and that mattered.

more than she wanted to admit.

sophia sucked in a slow breath, forcing herself to look at manon again.

and when she did, she saw it—that quiet, steady concern beneath all the teasing.

that careful patience.

that unbearable, soft way manon looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world worth worrying about.

sophia clenched her jaw.

she hated that look.

mostly because it made her want to melt into manon's arms instead of continuing to yell at her.

manon must have sensed her shift, because she exhaled, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly touching.

"sophia," she said quietly. "i'm okay."

sophia's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

manon reached out then, her fingers brushing against sophia's. just a soft touch. a quiet reassurance.

"i promise," she murmured. "i'm okay."

sophia wanted to stay mad.

she really, really did.

but manon was looking at her like that, touching her like that, and—and sophia sighed, finally, finally allowing her body to sag forward, pressing her forehead against manon's chest with a groan.

she let herself melt.

just for a moment.

god, she missed this.

missed her.

the warmth of manon's arms, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way she smelled—clean and familiar, with a hint of something expensive. sophia closed her eyes, exhaling softly as she felt manon's hand come up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair in slow, soothing strokes.

that was the thing about manon.

no matter how angry sophia was—no matter how much she wanted to stay mad—this was where she always ended up.

right here.

curled into manon's arms, feeling her body relax against her like she was a warm, breathing safe haven in a world that never stopped demanding things from her.

manon was her comfort person.

she always had been.

after long, exhausting days of schoolwork and social obligations, when her mind felt stretched thin and frayed at the edges, she would run to manon—sometimes literally. she'd find her sprawled on their couch, scrolling through her phone, arms already spread open in invitation, like she knew sophia would come.

and sophia always did.

she'd bury herself in manon's chest, exhaling all her stress into her warmth, letting herself be wrapped up, held, understood without having to say a single word.

but that was before.

before manon went and punched a guy in front of a crowd.

before sophia had to drag her out of that club like a mother pulling her misbehaving child from a playground.

before she realized that no matter how much she loved her girlfriend, no matter how irresistible she was, she could not give in just yet.

no.

she would not.

so after a full minute—sixty agonizing seconds of warm, heart-melting comfort—sophia's eyes snapped open.

and she shoved manon away.

hard.

manon barely budged.

it was like trying to push a brick wall.

sophia scowled, hands pressing against manon's torso in a more determined attempt to create space. this time, manon allowed it, letting herself stumble back slightly, her brows lifting in mild amusement.

sophia, still not looking at her, took a deliberate step back, arms crossing as she stared at the grimy alley wall like it had personally wronged her.

manon, of course, did not let this slide.

"wow," she drawled, hands slipping into the pockets of her jacket. "kicked me out of your arms that fast? i must've really pissed you off this time."

sophia refused to dignify that with a response.

mostly because it was true.

and because she refused to look at manon right now—refused to acknowledge the teasing lilt in her voice, the way she was probably standing there smirking, enjoying this far too much.

manon took a slow step toward her, voice laced with barely contained amusement.

"you do realize you're sending mixed signals, right?"

sophia's jaw tightened.

"i am not."

"you are."

sophia finally turned her head, glaring up at her. "oh, i'm sorry, do you suddenly have a degree in psychology? have you been moonlighting as a relationship counselor behind my back?"

manon bit back a grin. "you tell me, babe. one second, you're holding me like i'm your personal weighted blanket. the next, you're shoving me away like i just asked you to split the bill."

sophia gasped, scandalized. "that is not the same thing!"

manon raised an eyebrow. "no?"

"no!"

sophia huffed, turning away again, hands gripping her own arms. she needed to rein it in. she needed to stay mad.

but manon—unfairly attractive, incredibly frustrating manon—wasn't making it easy.

she took another step forward, and this time, she reached out. her fingers brushed against sophia's wrist—not grabbing, just touching, like an anchor.

"sophia." she murmured, voice lower now. sincere.

sophia squeezed her eyes shut.

because if she looked at her, she would be done for.

"i get why you're mad," manon said, voice calm, steady. "i do. and i know i probably should have handled it differently. but i need you to understand something—"

sophia inhaled sharply. "manon—"

"i wasn't going to let him get away with that," manon continued, undeterred. "not when it came to you."

sophia's breath caught.

finally, she turned her head—just enough to see the sincerity in manon's gaze, the quiet fierceness there.

manon's grip on her wrist tightened slightly, grounding.

"i don't care if i embarrassed myself," she murmured. "i don't care if people talk about it tomorrow. the only thing i care about is you. making sure you're safe. making sure no one disrespects you like that. making sure they know they can't get away with it."

sophia's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

because what could she say to that?

to the raw, unshakable devotion in manon's voice?

to the way she meant it?

manon sighed, her thumb grazing over the back of sophia's hand in slow, absent circles.

"you don't have to forgive me yet," she said softly. "you can stay mad for as long as you want."

sophia wanted to stay mad.

she really, really did.

but the way manon was looking at her—the way her touch sent warmth curling up sophia's spine—made it really damn hard.

so she did the only thing she could do.

she huffed.

rolled her eyes.

and, very begrudgingly, uncrossed her arms.

manon smiled, slow and knowing.

sophia scowled.

"don't look at me like that." she muttered.

manon tilted her head. "like what?"

sophia's eyes narrowed. "like you know you're about to win this."

manon chuckled, stepping even closer, until sophia could feel the warmth of her breath against her cheek.

the moment sophia shoved her away, manon knew she had won.

not fully—not yet—but the tide had shifted. the moment of fury, the raw storm in sophia's eyes, had softened just a fraction. not enough for her to admit it, not enough for her to just let it go, but enough for manon to recognize the signs. enough for her to know that sophia was already fighting a losing battle against herself.

still, manon didn't move, didn't push. she simply watched.

watched as sophia exhaled sharply, frustration evident in every fiber of her being. watched as she ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching slightly in the long, dark strands. watched as she turned away again, her body taut with an energy that had nowhere to go, like a wildfire just barely contained.

"tangina, 'yan ka nanaman eh."

the words slipped out, low and forceful, as if they had been building in her chest and only now broke free.

manon raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. she knew that tone.

knew what came next.

sophia turned back around, her eyes locking onto manon's like twin embers, burning, flickering, resisting the inevitable. there was something else there now, layered beneath the irritation—the slightest hint of vulnerability, the kind she only ever revealed in fleeting moments.

"palibhasa kasi alam na alam mo kung paano ako kunin!"

the words were practically an accusation, hurled at manon like a weapon. and yet, manon didn't flinch.

didn't react.

she just stood there. still. steady. watching.

letting sophia feel the weight of her own admission.

because that's what it was—an admission.

a begrudging, reluctant, angry admission that manon had her. had always had her. would always have her.

and sophia hated that.

hated how easy it was for manon to unravel her. how, with just a look, a touch, a few softly spoken words, she could turn sophia's righteous fury into something else entirely. something warmer. something far more dangerous.

and manon—goddamn her—knew it.

she knew exactly what sophia meant, even without her saying it outright. she knew it in the way sophia's breath hitched ever so slightly, in the way her fingers clenched into fists as if physically restraining herself, in the way she looked at her like she wanted to both strangle and kiss her in the same breath.

and yet, manon didn't move.

didn't react.

didn't smirk or tease or do anything that would break this delicate, precarious balance between them.

she simply let the words settle. let them stretch between them, pulling tight like a wire about to snap.

because sophia needed this.

needed to be the one to let go.

so manon just stood there, her expression unreadable, her gaze unwavering.

waiting.

and sure enough—after a few painfully long seconds—sophia exhaled, sharp and uneven, as if she had been holding her breath for too long.

her hands came up to her face, pressing against her eyes, fingers dragging down her cheeks in pure, unfiltered frustration.

for a long, weighted moment, sophia said nothing.

her hands remained on her face, fingers digging into her skin like she wanted to peel away the emotions threatening to spill over. her breathing was sharp, uneven, coming in short little bursts that she was trying—and failing—to control.

manon just watched.

she didn't say anything, didn't try to reach for her, didn't move an inch. because she knew—instinctively, deeply—that if she so much as breathed the wrong way, sophia would snap.

and sure enough—sophia snapped. again.

"you don't get to do this, manon!" she burst out, yanking her hands away from her face as she turned on her heel to glare at her.

manon remained still, her face unreadable, but her stomach twisted.

"you can't just waltz in here, kiss me, touch me, and act like that's supposed to make everything okay!" sophia continued, her voice rising with every word, her body practically vibrating with frustration. "you—god, you make me so fucking—" she let out a sharp, wordless sound, somewhere between a scoff and a groan, pacing a few steps away before whipping back around, her hair whipping over her shoulder.

manon clenched her jaw, but she still said nothing.

because sophia wasn't done.

"i was mad at you, manon!" she shouted, throwing her arms out. "and then you come in here with your—your stupid face and your stupid voice and you—you do that thing where you talk all soft and low and act like you care—"

manon's brow furrowed slightly. "act like i care?" she echoed, her voice quiet but pointed.

sophia ignored her.

"—and i hate that you get to do that!" she went on, the words tumbling out of her like she had no control over them. "i hate that i can't stay mad at you the way i want to! i hate that the second you touch me, my body just—*"

she cut herself off with a sharp inhale, shaking her head furiously as she turned away again, hands gripping her arms so tightly her knuckles turned white.

manon swallowed.

she should say something. should reach for her. should do anything but stand here and let sophia spiral.

but something told her this was exactly what sophia needed.

because these words—this anger—wasn't new.

it had been there. had been building for weeks, maybe even longer.

and now, finally, it was boiling over.

sophia sucked in another sharp breath, her shoulders tense, her jaw tight. she stayed turned away, like she couldn't bear to look at manon, like she needed the distance to get this all out.

and then—

"i love you, you fucking idiot."

the words came out raw, unexpected, furious.

manon's breath caught.

she hadn't expected that.

not like this.

not ripped from sophia's chest like an accusation, like a punishment.

sophia exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head again, her hands gripping her own arms even tighter. "i love you, and i hate that i love you, because it means i can't just—i can't just walk away from you when you piss me off the way you deserve—"

her voice cracked, just slightly.

manon felt it.

like a tiny fracture through glass.

"and i hate that you don't even get it!" sophia went on, her voice thick now, angry in a different way.

"you get to be the one who punches a guy in public for me, and i'm the one who has to deal with the consequences! you get to be reckless and self-righteous and dramatic, and i—i have to be the one who fixes it, who explains it, who makes sure it doesn't come back to bite you in the ass, because someone has to!"

she turned around again, and this time, her eyes were blazing.

manon barely breathed.

"i am so tired, manon," sophia said, and this time, it wasn't a yell. it wasn't an explosion. it was small, and quiet, and devastating. "i am so tired of feeling like i'm the only one who thinks before we do something stupid. i am so tired of being the one who has to pick up the pieces—because i will pick up the pieces, manon. i always do."

the words hit like a punch to the gut.

manon knew.

she knew sophia was right.

she knew that she had put her in this position. knew that, in her rush to defend her, she had once again left her to deal with everything in the aftermath.

and she knew, now, looking at sophia—at her wide, hurt eyes, at the way her chest rose and fell with sharp, shallow breaths—that this wasn't just about tonight.

it was about everything.

for the first time since she had arrived, manon took a step forward.

slow. cautious.

her hand lifted slightly, reaching for sophia's.

but before she could touch her—sophia stepped back.

manon froze.

it wasn't an angry movement. it wasn't sharp, or dramatic, or forceful.

it was quiet.

like a door closing.

like a decision being made.

"i can't face you right now," sophia said, her voice softer now, but no less heavy. "i just... i can't."

and then, before manon could say anything, sophia turned on her heel and walked away.

manon watched her go, her heart pounding, her mouth slightly open like she wanted to call after her.

and she almost did.

almost said something, anything, because she couldn't just let her go like this—

"sophia..."

her voice came out soft. almost hesitant.

sophia didn't stop.

didn't turn around.

didn't look at her.

she reached the door, her hand grasping the handle—and then, suddenly—

she paused.

manon's breath caught.

for a long, agonizing moment, sophia just stood there, her back to her, her fingers tight around the handle.

and then—slowly—she turned her head, just slightly.

not enough to fully face her.

just enough for manon to see the faintest glimmer of her profile.

and then—softly, almost too softly—

"go home, manon."

manon swallowed.

her throat burned.

she barely had time to process the words before sophia turned back around and disappeared inside, the door shutting behind her with a quiet, final click.

and then—she was gone.

for a long time, manon just stood there.

frozen.

like if she stayed still long enough, maybe the weight of sophia's words would lift. maybe the lump in her throat would disappear. maybe she would stop feeling like she had just taken a beautiful, fragile thing in her hands and crushed it without even meaning to.

god, she felt so stupid.

she put her hands behind her head, looking up at the sky in pure, unfiltered frustration. the darkening clouds stretched above her, thick and heavy, and she let out a breath that sounded more like a growl.

because fuck.

she had done it.

she had really done it this time.

she had pushed too far, had pissed her off just a little too much, had finally driven sophia to the point where she didn't even want to look at her anymore.

that wasn't normal.

that wasn't just one of their fights.

this wasn't some dramatic little spat where sophia would go upstairs to fume and manon would chase after her, and they'd bicker until sophia rolled her eyes and kissed her first, like she always did.

no—this was different.

she had hurt her.

really, actually hurt her.

and god, manon hated herself for it.

she started pacing, one hand rubbing down her face, the other shoved in her pocket like it could stop her from marching straight back in there and saying something.

should she go after her?

would that make it worse?

would sophia hate her for ignoring what she said?

would she hate her more if she didn't?

she groaned out loud, yanking her ponytail like it would somehow jolt an answer into her head.

sophia wasn't breaking up with her.

no, that wasn't what this was.

right?

right?

manon let out another sharp exhale, pacing faster.

no, no—they weren't over. they weren't.

sophia was just mad. really, really mad. but they'd been together for years. they had survived worse than this, hadn't they?

...hadn't they?

manon groaned again and stomped her foot like a petulant child.

"what the fuck am i supposed to do right now?" she muttered to herself, throwing her hands up.

the sky rumbled in response.

manon looked up just as the first cold droplets landed on her face.

oh, perfect.

the rain started light, barely more than a drizzle, but she knew the downpour was coming. it was that heavy, suffocating kind of air, thick with the promise of a storm—the kind that would drench her in seconds if she stayed out too long.

oh, how poetic. the weather was matching her fucking demise.

she let out another long, exhausted sigh, hands on her hips, eyes flicking back toward the door.

sophia was inside.

sophia was mad.

sophia had told her to go home.

but could manon really just leave? could she really walk away knowing sophia was still angry, still hurting, still hating her guts right now?

manon turned her back to the door, looking down the empty alleyway.

and then—she stopped.

no.

no, she couldn't let the day end like this.

she wouldn't.

she turned back toward the club, staring at the door like it held all the answers to the universe.

the rain was getting heavier now, soaking through her shirt, her braids damp and heavy against her back.

but she barely felt it.

because something was gnawing at her.

a deep, instinctual, screaming feeling in her chest that told her go back. fix this. you can't leave her like this.

she clenched her jaw.

a beat passed.

another.

and then—she stormed back to the club.

her long strides carried her straight to the door before she could overthink it, before she could stop herself, before she could do something monumentally stupid like listen to what sophia told her to do.

she lifted a hand and banged on the door, hard enough to echo through the empty alleyway.

she was not going home.

not yet.

not until she fixed this.

she walked through the dimly lit neon hallways, her long strides purposeful, her pulse hammering in her ears. the music grew louder with every step, pulsing like a heartbeat through the walls, a stark contrast to the storm still raging inside her chest.

when she reached the main floor of the club, it was like stepping into another world.

everything had gone back to normal.

like nothing had ever happened.

the crowd was moving, the drinks were flowing, the music was thumping, and people were laughing, dancing, shouting over the bass like manon hadn't nearly thrown a man across the room an hour ago.

like sophia hadn't walked out with fire in her eyes and a sharp, aching crack in her voice.

like she hadn't just told manon to go home.

but manon's sharp gaze scanned the club, ignoring the flashing lights, ignoring the thick scent of sweat and alcohol, ignoring the people who were still giving her a few curious glances.

her eyes landed on lara and megan, still seated at their table.

sophia's seat—where she had been just earlier, legs crossed, arms draped over the backrest like a queen on her throne—was empty.

the only thing left behind was her untouched drink, sitting neat and perfect on the table.

manon's body tensed.

she didn't even hesitate before making a beeline for them.

megan noticed her first, her eyebrows shooting up in mild surprise, but there was something else there too—amusement, curiosity.

manon barely spared her a glance.

she reached the table just as lara's eyes flicked up, registering her presence. her expression was casual, a little surprised, but not alarmed.

"well, well," lara drawled, sipping her drink. "look who's back."

manon didn't respond.

didn't even let her finish processing the thought before she cut straight to the point.

"where's sophia?"

lara and megan exchanged glances.

not the shifty kind. not the oh shit, let's cover for her kind.

this was genuine, honest confusion.

manon's stomach twisted.

lara set her drink down and tilted her head slightly. "she hasn't come back yet."

manon frowned. "what?"

"she left with you," lara pointed out, her brows drawing together. "we thought she was still with you."

"she was," manon said, voice clipped. "but she went back inside. i thought maybe she'd cool off and come back."

lara gave her a flat look. "cool off?"

megan shot her a curious look, the usual amusement dancing in her voice. "hey, what happened with anthony back ther—"

but even before megan could finish, manon turned on her heels without another word, pivoting away from them, her focus razor-sharp.

"i'll tell you some other time, i need to find her." she threw over her shoulder, already weaving through the crowded club.

lara hardly had a moment to breathe before megan yanked her arm and whispered, "five bucks, she's about to pull another dumb stunt."

"ugh, not now meg, where's she off to now?" lara shot a glance at the hawaiian before refocusing on manon, who was bulldozing through the crowd like she owned the place.

megan grinned, already settling in comfortably. "we're about to find out."

but manon wasn't thinking about them anymore. she was thinking about sophia.

where the hell was she?

she checked every possible place. first, the bar stools—because if sophia wasn't with lara and megan, maybe she had sulked off to drink alone. but no luck. just bartenders shaking cocktails, a few guys throwing back shots, and some girls who recognized her.

"oh my god, it's bannerman!"

"she's so much hotter in person—"

"she put anthony in his place so fast—"

"hey man! you were so badass—"

manon barely spared them a nod, flashing a half-hearted smile as she kept moving. she didn't have time for admiration or compliments. not when sophia was still nowhere to be found.

she checked the dance floor next. it was the most sophia place to be, after all. the flashing lights, the pulsing bass, bodies moving in tandem, people laughing, shouting, throwing their arms in the air—it was chaotic and lively and everything sophia loved.

but she wasn't there either.

she checked the vip lounge. the hall leading to the bathrooms. even the hallway by the exit, just in case sophia had stepped out for air.

nothing.

frustration climbed up manon's throat, curling tight around her lungs. she had been searching for almost twenty minutes, and still, nothing. she could feel the slow, sinking dread of hopelessness creeping in.

and then, her eyes landed on the stage.

this was a bad idea.

an awful idea.

the worst possible idea.

manon clenched her jaw, exhaling through her nose as she strode toward the stairs leading up to the stage.

some people started to notice.

heads turned.

murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.

up at their table, megan practically started vibrating in her seat.

"told you, she's gonna do something stupid again." she whispered, slapping lara's arm repeatedly.

lara grabbed her drink and took a long, resigned sip. "she lives to do something stupid."

manon reached the stage, exhaling sharply before stepping toward the mic at the center.

she stared at it.

her hands curled into fists.

then, with a deep breath, she reached out and turned it on.

a loud, sharp feedback noise screeched through the club.

half the people winced. someone groaned. megan was howling.

manon winced too, muttering a quick, "shit." before adjusting the mic properly.

she tapped it once. twice.

then, in her smoothest, most confident voice—

"good evening, everyone."

the crowd froze.

more heads turned.

people nudged their friends, curious and entertained.

megan was clutching her chest like she was witnessing a religious experience. lara, meanwhile, dragged her hands down her face and muttered, "god, this is painful to watch."

but manon ignored them.

she tilted her head slightly, wearing an expression so effortlessly cool that it almost made up for the pure humiliation she was about to inflict upon herself.

"well," she continued, her voice laced with dry amusement, "i think most of you already know me. but, just in case, i'll introduce myself."

she tapped the mic again, this time just for dramatic effect.

"i'm manon, twenty two, from switz, my girlfriend kinda hates me right now, and—" she sighed, like it pained her, "i'm a certified dumbass."

the crowd lost it.

laughter erupted from every corner of the club. even the dj was grinning as he leaned against the booth, clearly invested.

someone in the back actually cheered.

megan wheezed, slamming a fist onto the table.

"oh my god," she choked out. "she's killing me."

lara just massaged her temples. "where the hell is sophia?"

manon waited a beat, letting the laughter settle before she sighed again, shaking her head.

"but tonight," she said, voice lowering just slightly, "isn't about me. tonight is about someone, she's very important to me."

a hush fell over the crowd.

even the ones who had no idea what was going on were riveted.

manon swallowed hard, gripping the mic a little tighter.

"sophia laforteza."

gasps.

more whispers.

"if you're here," she said, voice softer now, more vulnerable, "if you can hear this... i'm sorry."

she let out a slow breath.

"i mean it, baby. i miss you."

a collective awww rippled through the club.

someone near the bar muttered, "god, i wish that were me."

another person called out, "tell her, girl."

manon chuckled, rubbing a hand down her face before shaking her head.

"i know i messed up," she admitted. "i know i pushed you too far tonight. and i know you probably want to kill me right now."

a brief pause.

"you should let her!"

more laughter.

megan was openly screaming at this point.

lara, however, was gripping the table, eyes darting around wildly. "ugh, meg. call sophia, now."

megan gasped. "no way, i'm face timing dani—"

manon exhaled heavily, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, her voice turning softer.

"but, sophia, if you're out there," she said, her tone low and aching, "please—just give me a sign. let me know you're okay. i'll leave if you want me to. i'll go home. i won't push you anymore."

her throat tightened.

her jaw clenched.

and then, softer, desperate—

"but if you need me—if you still want me—just... let me find you."

silence.

a long, heavy pause.

megan was holding her breath.

lara was gripping her drink like she was ready to launch it.

from the far side of the club, just as she stepped out of the restroom, sophia froze.

her heart, steady just moments ago, stuttered at the unmistakable sound of manon's voice ringing through the speakers.

she barely had time to process it before something else hit her.

her name.

spoken so clearly, so deliberately, so reverently, like a whispered prayer that had somehow slipped past the barrier of music and conversation and lodged itself directly into her chest.

sophia turned around sharply, her eyes darting toward the stage, and—oh my god.

there she was.

standing tall beneath the neon lights, microphone in hand, wearing that familiar look of quiet desperation beneath a thin veil of confidence, as if she wasn't currently humiliating herself in front of an entire club.

sophia's stomach twisted with immediate frustration.

manon.

this woman.

she just couldn't leave things alone, could she? she just had to be dramatic, had to go out of her way to make this into something bigger, grander, more ridiculous than it already was.

sophia had stormed off, had made it perfectly clear she didn't want to hear anything else, had removed herself from the situation to give herself even just a sliver of breathing room.

but instead of respecting that, manon had done the exact opposite.

instead of leaving, she had climbed onto a goddamn stage, grabbed a microphone, and dragged the entirety of this club into their personal relationship drama.

sophia clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply through her nose, because god—the sheer audacity.

and then manon spoke again.

"i'm really sorry, if this is what you want then i'll back off now even though i miss you so much and it hurts, baby."

something inside sophia wavered.

she didn't want it to, but it did.

because that voice—low, aching, raw—held a weight she couldn't ignore.

manon stood on that stage, still searching the crowd, her gaze sweeping through the dark, clearly hoping—praying—to see her.

and god damn it, sophia felt it.

that pull.

that stupid, frustrating, impossible pull toward this woman.

that same pull that had made her fall in love in the first place.

manon exhaled shakily into the mic, shifting slightly, and then, in a voice soft enough to make sophia's chest tighten, she said—

"please, let's go home. i miss your cuddles."

sophia stopped breathing.

right there.

right in the middle of the club, with the bass thumping distantly in the background, the murmurs of an amused crowd filling the air—she forgot how to breathe.

because manon.

because that voice.

because those words.

all of it came together at once, wrapped itself around her ribs, and squeezed so tightly that she couldn't tell whether she wanted to yell at this woman or just give in completely.

her resolve cracked, just slightly, just enough for her to feel the familiar warmth creeping in—the love, the longing, the undeniable ache of knowing that no matter how frustrating manon was, no matter how impossibly dramatic she could be, sophia loved her more than anything.

she sighed, dragging a hand down her face.

and she was just about to step forward—just about to put an end to this insanity—when suddenly, two bouncers appeared on either side of the stage.

sophia's head snapped up, her heart lurching slightly in her chest as she watched them approach manon with unwavering purpose.

they were big.

built.

and from the way their expressions remained unmoving, they were clearly very, very done with this woman's antics.

manon, too caught up in her grand romantic disaster, didn't notice at first.

but then—she felt the strong grip on her arm.

she turned.

took in the unamused, stone-faced expressions of the bouncers.

the club exploded with noise.

laughter, cheers, excited shouts—absolute chaos.

near the vip section, megan had fully lost her mind.

she screamed, slamming her hands on the table as she scrambled for her phone.

"oh my god," she howled, nearly falling over herself. "i'm recording this. i'm recording all of this."

lara, across from her, simply took a slow, measured sip of her drink and muttered, "i can't believe i know her."

on stage, manon's entire soul left her body as she realized exactly what was happening.

she jerked slightly, her free hand flying up in a last-ditch attempt to grab onto the mic again.

"wait, wait, wait, i just need—"

too late.

one of the bouncers, clearly done with this entire ordeal, lifted her off the ground.

like she weighed nothing.

like she was just some misbehaving cat that had climbed where it shouldn't.

the crowd lost it.

people were whistling, clapping, cheering, the dj was crying from laughter, and megan—megan had collapsed onto lara, wheezing, barely able to hold her phone straight.

from megan and lara's seat at the bar, another spectator was watching with an entirely different level of amusement.

yoonchae.

legs elegantly crossed, arms plopped lazily behind her on the high table, took a slow sip of her very expensive wine.

a wine she was hundred percent not legally allowed to have.

she tilted the glass idly, watching the two bouncers drag manon across the club with the air of someone enjoying an expensive broadway production.

then, she shook her head, letting out a low, knowing hum.

"'don't do anything that'll get us thrown out,' she says..." the korean muttered to herself, mimicking manon's earlier warning.

she took another sip, exhaled through her nose, then smirked.

"god, she's such a hypocrite."

sophia, however, just stood there.

watching.

watching her ridiculous, hopelessly romantic, impossibly dramatic girlfriend get carried away like a rogue criminal in a shakespearean comedy.

manon, still dangling helplessly in the air, tried one last time.

"if anyone sees my girlfriend," she called out, voice muffled as she was dragged away, "tell her i—"

the bouncers hadn't even reached the club's exit when a sudden shift in the atmosphere made them hesitate, a presence behind them demanding attention without so much as a word.

it started as a ripple—a sharp, electrifying tension that crawled up the spines of those closest, a near-tangible force cutting through the neon-lit space. the music still thumped, the bass still pulsed, but it all felt distant now, like the entire club was holding its breath, waiting, sensing that something was about to happen.

megan saw her first.

she had barely recovered from the sheer public spectacle of manon professing her love like some lovesick idiot on stage, but when her gaze landed on sophia, she physically jolted, gripping lara's arm so tight her nails nearly sank into the skin.

"oh." megan's breath came out in a sharp exhale, eyes widening. "there she goes."

lara, who had been taking a slow, amused sip of her drink, turned her head, following megan's dazed stare—

and immediately set her glass down, eyes sharpening, mouth twitching into something like a smirk.

because sophia—sophia was marching.

not rushing. not stumbling. not moving with the hesitation of someone humiliated or exhausted from a night of arguing.

she was marching.

shoulders squared, back impossibly straight, her sharp heels clicking against the floor with deadly precision, her hands loose at her sides but curled just enough that they hinted at the sheer force of temper barely restrained.

her expression, lethal.

not quite angry, not quite soft, but a look that was somehow both. a slow-burning fury wrapped in ice, carefully controlled, carefully measured, like a queen stepping onto a battlefield where she already knew the outcome.

and god help anyone who got in her way.

manon hadn't noticed her yet.

she was still in the grip of the two bouncers, her body stiff, her mind running through every possible way to talk herself out of getting thrown out of the club. the humiliation was already sinking in, the reality of her public display of desperation settling like lead in her stomach.

then she heard it.

a voice.

that voice.

sharp. crisp. cutting through the room like a blade unsheathed.

"let her go."

manon's head snapped up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

the bouncers stilled.

megan and lara? frozen.

and then—there she was.

sophia.

standing just behind them, her presence commanding even in the dim lighting, her gaze fixed on the men holding manon as if she were already deciding what punishment they deserved.

manon's breath caught.

sophia's eyes flicked to hers, just for a fraction of a second—long enough to see the frustration, the embarrassment, the helplessness clashing in her expression—

and whatever she saw there, whatever silent plea manon didn't even realize she was making—

it sealed their fate.

because sophia's expression shifted.

the restraint cracked.

and all that cold fury turned sharp and possessive.

the bouncers—oblivious to the fact that their night had just taken a turn for the worse—exchanged a quick glance, hesitating. one of them, the taller one, opened his mouth, about to say something dismissive, but—

sophia stepped forward.

and then, calmly—so, so calmly, in the kind of voice that sent shivers down spines and made people realize they had made a grave mistake—

"get your fucking hands off her. now."

the words were slow, deliberate, spoken with the kind of unwavering confidence that suggested she was not making a request.

manon felt it like a shockwave.

her entire body froze, her skin prickling at the sheer dominance radiating from her girlfriend, at the way sophia wasn't even raising her voice, wasn't even arguing or pleading or negotiating—

she was commanding.

and expecting to be obeyed.

megan sucked in a sharp breath, gripping lara's wrist so tightly her knuckles turned white.

lara just exhaled through her nose, eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered amusement.

the bouncers hesitated.

one of them shifted, clearing his throat, but the moment he adjusted his grip on manon—

sophia moved.

her hands—delicate, perfectly manicured, deceptively gentle—rose with effortless grace—

and pried their fingers off manon.

no struggle.

no resistance.

just a silent, absolute refusal to let them keep what belonged to her.

and then, when their hands were no longer on her girlfriend, when manon was completely free, sophia stepped between them.

she wasn't much shorter than the bouncers, but somehow, standing there—between manon and them, posture rigid, chin lifted, radiating authority that felt impossible to ignore—

she made them look small.

and then, in the kind of low, precise, venom-laced voice that made the temperature drop—

"lay a finger on her one more time, and i swear on your lives, you will taste unemployment."

the bouncers—both of them, both fully grown men who had likely been in their line of work for years—didn't say a word.

they simply stepped back.

sophia let the silence stretch.

let them feel it.

and only then—only when she was satisfied that they had learned their place—did she finally turn to manon.

their eyes met.

and for a moment—just a single, fleeting moment—manon saw something beneath all that fury, beneath all that dominance and quiet rage.

and before she could even register the relief, before she could say anything—sophia's hand shot out.

and grabbed her ear.

manon yelped.

not because it hurt—though it did—but because the sheer audacity—

"ow! baby, take it easy—"

sophia pulled.

and manon stumbled forward, completely caught off guard as her five-foot-six girlfriend—who, by all laws of physics and common sense, should not be this strong—dragged her through the club like an unruly child.

the embarrassment was instant.

manon winced, struggling to keep up as sophia marched forward, heels clicking, her grip firm but expertly controlled—not enough to actually hurt, but just enough to make her regret every decision that led to this moment.

"sophia," manon hissed, flailing slightly as she tried to keep her dignity intact, "—sophia, baby, wait, let's talk—"

sophia did not wait.

sophia did not talk.

sophia simply continued marching, dragging manon behind her like a misbehaving cat being yanked away from a countertop it shouldn't be on.

lara, watching this unfold in stunned silence, exhaled slowly.

"...this is not real."

megan, still clutching her phone, still recording every second of this cinematic masterpiece, wheezed.

"oh my god." she gasped between fits of laughter, practically falling over, "she's so over."

lara hummed, watching as manon—the ever-composed, effortlessly cool, internationally recognized model—was now flailing like a delinquent schoolboy being scolded by his mother.

"...you love to see it." she murmured, taking another sip of her drink.

meanwhile, manon was fighting for her life.

"okay—okay, i get it, i messed up—"

sophia's grip tightened.

manon flinched.

"—but can we at least be civil about this?" she pleaded, voice pitching slightly as sophia yanked her toward the exit with the efficiency of a woman who had already reached her limit hours ago.

sophia finally spoke—but did not stop walking.

"oh? you want civil? you weren't very civil when you decided to humiliate yourself in front of an entire club, were you?"

manon groaned.

"i was being romantic."

"you were being a moron."

"soph—ow, okay, i deserved that, but listen—"

sophia did not listen.

sophia kept dragging.

manon was running out of options.

and her ear was running out of patience.

so, in a last-ditch effort, she leaned in slightly, voice dropping into the kind of low, velvety murmur that usually got her out of trouble.

"baby..." she said, deliberately gentle, deliberately sweet. "come on, you don't really want to do this in front of everyone, do you?"

sophia paused.

manon's heart leaped in triumph—

until sophia turned her head slightly, gaze sharp and deadly, and said, in the kind of whisper-soft, utterly terrifying tone that made manon's stomach drop straight into the earth's core—

"do you want me to let go? or do you want me to switch to your neck?"

manon choked.

her entire brain short-circuited.

and for the first time in her life, manon shut the hell up.

sophia nodded in satisfaction.

and dragged her out of the club.

lara, watching their retreating figures, sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"she'll live." she muttered.

megan, crying from laughter, wiped a tear away.

"yeah," she agreed, voice shaking. "but will her dignity?"

___

the moment sophia shoved manon forward by the ear and let her go, a cold gust of wind rushed against them, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of fresh rain hitting pavement.

it was already pouring.

fat, heavy raindrops pelted down from the sky, splattering against the pavement in loud, rhythmic taps, soaking into sophia's hair, her dress, her skin, like the universe itself had decided to match her mood.

she barely noticed it at first—too furious, too fed up, too exasperated with the absolute disaster of a girlfriend standing in front of her, rubbing at her ear like she had been victimized instead of rightfully punished.

sophia was seething.

her arms crossed over her chest, her breathing measured, her stance rigid, the muscles in her jaw ticking as she fought the overwhelming urge to scream.

that low, sharp, utterly pissed-off hiss from sophia:

"i told you to go home."

the words cut through the cool night air like a blade, quick and precise, leaving no room for argument.

and yet—manon still tried.

still stood there, rubbing her poor, mistreated ear with a look of mock offense, as if that would somehow soften sophia's glare.

it didn't.

sophia's expression remained ice-cold, her jaw tight, her arms crossed over her chest in a way that should not have been this attractive when she was very clearly two seconds away from beating manon with her designer heels.

manon sighed, tilting her head, giving her best "i know i messed up but look how charming i am" smile.

"baby, i—"

the eye roll.

it was so immediate, so visibly fed up, that manon actually felt it like a physical impact.

like sophia had slapped her across the face with her sheer exhaustion.

sophia didn't say a word.

didn't even look at her.

instead, she simply turned on her heel, her long, perfectly styled hair whipping around in silent dismissal, her entire posture screaming "i am done with this conversation."

manon frowned, blinking as she watched her girlfriend stride toward the entrance of the club.

wait. what?

"soph—?"

but sophia was already reaching for the door, already moving to march back inside, to retrieve her bag, maybe get another drink, maybe pretend the last ten minutes of her life never happened.

except—no.

she couldn't.

not after that.

not after the scene manon had just caused.

not after the entire club had just witnessed her dramatic, lovesick girlfriend hijack the damn microphone just to beg for her forgiveness.

sophia froze.

her hand hovered just inches away from the door handle, the realization settling in her chest like a weight.

she couldn't go back in there.

not after dragging manon out by her ear like an angry mother yanking her misbehaving child out of a pta meeting.

not after making a spectacle of herself in front of lara and megan, who were undoubtedly still inside, probably cackling over their drinks, probably already texting the group chat with a play-by-play.

and just like that, her last shred of patience snapped.

with a sharp, frustrated sigh, sophia turned away from the door—this time, not sparing manon a single glance—and began walking.

she needed to get as far away from this entire disaster of a night as possible.

not toward the parking lot.

not toward the street where they could call for a ride.

just—away.

fast.

she needed to leave.

she needed to breathe.

she needed to put as much distance between herself and her dumbass girlfriend as possible before she actually lost her mind.

she didn't care that it was a long walk back to the dorm.

didn't care that her shoes weren't exactly made for this.

didn't care that her phone was still in her bag, back inside the club, along with her credit cards and everything else she needed to make this impromptu escape even remotely convenient.

she ignored the fact that it was raining harder now, her dress clinging to her, her hair sticking to her cheeks, the chill of the night creeping down her spine.

she needed to be alone.

except—no.

apparently, she couldn't even have that.

because of course—manon followed.

manon, who should have been smart enough to know when to quit.

manon, who had already caused enough chaos for one night.

manon, who clearly had no self-preservation instincts whatsoever, because instead of just letting her go, instead of letting her cool off, instead of doing the one goddamn thing sophia had told her to do and go home, she was instead—

following.

like a lost, lovesick puppy.

"where are you going?"

manon's voice was softer now, careful, cautious, like she knew she was treading dangerous waters but still couldn't stop herself from stepping closer, from testing the limits of sophia's patience just a little bit more.

sophia didn't answer.

she bit down the frustration rising in her throat.

the rain was pouring now, drenching them both, soaking into their skin, their clothes, their shoes, and yet—manon was still following.

"sophia."

still, nothing.

still, sophia refused to slow down, refused to engage, refused to let the sound of her voice—deep, warm, threaded with something dangerously close to regret—affect her.

her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

her breath came sharp and measured, her shoulders tense with the effort it took to ignore her.

but manon was relentless.

like she always was.

like she always had been.

and sophia knew—knew—that manon was watching her, her expression probably stupidly soft and guilty, like she actually thought she could fix this just by following her into the rain and calling her name in that annoyingly tender way of hers.

manon let out a quiet sigh as she picked up her pace, falling into stride beside sophia, her long legs easily keeping up with sophia's furious, determined march through the rain. she didn't have to look too closely to see the way sophia's arms were wrapped around herself, the way she was rubbing at her skin, trying to fight off the cold, the way her dress clung to her body like a second skin, soaked through from the relentless downpour.

stubborn.

that was what sophia was. ridiculously, absurdly, infuriatingly stubborn.

manon exhaled, shoulders tense, watching her girlfriend willfully ignore the very obvious fact that she was freezing.

with a quiet curse, manon shrugged off her jacket, feeling the rain immediately soak into her skin as the warmth of it left her body. it was cold—colder than it should've been, colder than she liked—but manon didn't even hesitate as she held the jacket out, trying to drape it over sophia's shoulders.

sophia dodged.

didn't so much as glance in her direction.

just kept marching forward, arms crossed, teeth clenched, ignoring manon's very obvious attempt to protect her from the freezing rain.

manon sighed, exasperated, but not surprised.

she tried again, a little firmer this time, a little more insistent.

"sophia." her voice was low, calm, the patience of a saint layered in her tone. "just take the damn jacket, baby."

sophia pressed forward, chin up, pace unwavering, like the concept of being drenched in the middle of the street at nearly one in the morning was somehow a minor inconvenience instead of a full-blown disaster.

manon clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply as she kept in stride with her.

"come on," she coaxed, gently this time, a plea hidden underneath the words. "you're soaked. you're going to freeze."

still, nothing.

manon groaned, the sound low, tired, a little desperate.

she reached out again, jacket in hand, attempting one last time to slip it over sophia's stubborn, rain-drenched body.

sophia slapped the jacket away.

manon sucked in a slow breath, closing her eyes for a second, steadying herself, before she jogged ahead, stepping directly in sophia's path this time, forcing her to either stop or walk straight into her.

sophia stopped.

barely.

and only because she had to.

she blinked up at manon, her expression unreadable, water dripping from her lashes, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, her lips.

manon didn't hesitate.

didn't waste a second.

didn't let her girlfriend cut her off before she could speak.

"let me drive you home." her voice was firm, gentle, pleading all at once. she held sophia's gaze, steady and unrelenting, unwavering in her concern.

"you're going to get sick if you walk all the way back like this." she gestured to sophia's soaking wet body, then to the dark, empty streets stretching behind her. "come on. just let me take you home."

for a second—just a second—manon thought she might actually listen.

for a second, sophia's lips parted, her brows furrowed, her weight shifting ever so slightly like she was considering it.

but then—she looked away.

she sighed sharply, muttering something under her breath before she stepped around manon entirely, dismissing her like she was nothing more than an obstacle in her path.

manon watched her go, watched as sophia wrapped her arms around herself even tighter, trying to rub warmth into her skin as she pushed forward, completely unbothered by the fact that she was already shivering.

manon stood there for a moment, watching, processing, feeling the cold settle into her bones as the rain continued to hammer down on her.

then, with a quiet curse, she jogged back to sophia's side, shaking her head in sheer disbelief.

"you're seriously walking all the way back?" she asked, her voice half-laughing, half-incredulous, all frustrated affection.

manon exhaled, raking a wet hand through her already drenched hair, before falling back into step beside her, because—of course—she wasn't just going to leave her to walk home alone in the freezing rain.

she glanced at sophia again, at the way she rubbed her arms for warmth, her lips slightly parted as she exhaled shakily, clearly feeling the cold even if she refused to admit it.

manon sighed.

"baby." she tried again, softer this time, more careful.

not a single word.

just kept walking, kept ignoring, kept punishing manon with silence, with distance, with her refusal to so much as spare her a glance.

manon exhaled sharply, looking up at the sky for a second, watching the rain as if it might somehow give her an answer, before dropping her gaze back to her girlfriend.

stupidly, ridiculously, beautifully stubborn.

for a while, manon let sophia have her way.

she let her march forward like she had something to prove, let her walk in the pouring rain with her arms stubbornly wrapped around herself, let her pretend she was totally fine even though she was soaked to the bone, visibly shivering, and quite possibly the most dramatic person alive.

but manon had reached her limit.

enough was enough.

manon exhaled sharply, coming to a full stop in the middle of the street, letting the rain pound down on her as she shook her head in sheer disbelief.

then, with a slow, calculated movement, she tied her jacket around her waist and shook out her arms, flexing her fingers, preparing for what she was about to do.

she was already drenched anyway, her white tank top clinging to her like a second skin, muscles gleaming under the streetlights, rain dripping from the ends of her braids.

might as well go all in.

and just like that—manon jogged forward.

sophia didn't notice.

didn't even hear her approaching over the sound of the rain hitting the pavement.

so when strong, warm hands suddenly landed on her back, effortlessly lifting her off her feet—

sophia gasped.

loudly.

"hey—?! manon!"

she twisted in manon's hold, immediately feeling the unmistakable strength of her girlfriend's arms wrapped around her, but before she could even process what was happening, she was already being cradled against manon's chest.

in a bridal carry.

in the middle of the street.

in the pouring rain.

"what are you doing?!" sophia hissed, already kicking her feet, pushing at manon's shoulders, trying to break free, but the woman didn't budge.

manon barely even felt it.

her grip was steady, unbothered, and maddeningly smug.

sophia stared at her, scandalized, cheeks burning despite the freezing rain, because how dare this woman manhandle her like this, how dare she pick her up so effortlessly, how dare she act like this was a completely normal thing to do!

"manon, put me down!"

"no."

"manon—"

"you're being difficult."

sophia let out a sharp, indignant noise, glowering at her as she smacked her shoulder, demanding her freedom.

manon didn't even flinch.

didn't so much as stagger.

didn't even act like she was carrying a fully grown woman in her arms.

sophia could feel her heartbeat pick up, but she ignored it—ignored the way manon's arms felt solid and warm around her, ignored the way her rain-soaked tank top made her muscles stand out even more, ignored the way her entire body was pressed against manon's as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

the rain poured around them, soaking them both to the bone, drumming against the pavement in a relentless rhythm. manon moved forward with unwavering steps, carrying sophia as if she weighed nothing, her arms strong and steady despite the fight sophia was still putting up.

and oh, how she fought.

sophia wriggled, pushed, and smacked at manon's shoulders with all the force her cold, rain-slicked limbs could muster. but it was useless. manon didn't stumble, didn't even falter. it was maddening how effortlessly she held her, how completely unbothered she was by sophia's protests.

"manon," sophia snapped, her voice sharp with indignation, "PUT ME DOWN!"

"no."

sophia narrowed her eyes, glaring up at her through the strands of wet hair clinging to her face. "i mean it. right now."

"not happening." manon said, her voice impossibly even, like she wasn't currently carrying a full-grown woman in her arms under a torrential downpour.

sophia let out a sharp, frustrated sound and twisted, trying one last time to break free. nothing. manon's hold was unshakable. the warmth of her body, the way her muscles flexed beneath her soaked tank top, the sheer confidence with which she held sophia—it was unbearable.

that was it. if brute force wouldn't work, she had one last weapon.

she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with cold, rain-heavy air, and then—

"HELP! HELP ME! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED!"

manon froze.

her entire body went rigid in an instant, a bolt of panic flashing across her face as she glanced wildly around them.

sophia saw it, and oh, she reveled in it.

"HELP! THIS WOMAN—SHE'S TAKING ME!"

"sophia." manon hissed, her voice low, warning.

"PLEASE SHE'S GOING TO—"

"shut up!" manon whisper-yelled, her eyes darting in panic.

sophia grinned—just for a second, just long enough to relish her victory—before she opened her mouth to scream again.

and then—warm lips crashed against hers.

the world stilled.

the rain fell in sheets around them, the streetlights casting a golden glow through the downpour, but all sophia could feel was manon.

the kiss wasn't careful, wasn't planned—it was desperate, rushed, an act of sheer instinct. manon's lips were firm, insistent, cutting off sophia's next scream with something far more distracting, something that made her breath hitch and her pulse stutter.

for a brief moment, sophia froze, her brain struggling to catch up. then—outrage.

she pushed at manon's chest, her hands splayed against the rain-slicked warmth of her skin, trying to shove her away, but manon held firm, her lips moving in soft, coaxing strokes, her arms unyielding yet impossibly gentle.

sophia made a muffled, indignant noise against her mouth, smacking her shoulder, her palm meeting damp fabric, but it was half-hearted at best.

because manon—oh, this infuriating woman—she wasn't just kissing her.

she was melting her.

sophia could feel it happening against her will.

the way manon's lips softened, the way her touch turned from desperate to deliberate, from a frantic attempt to silence her to something else entirely. something tender.

and it was working.

oh, it was working.

sophia felt her body relax despite herself, the tension unraveling with each slow, careful movement of manon's lips.

the rain was freezing, their clothes were drenched, but manon was warm.

her hands, her body, her kiss—all of her was warm.

sophia shivered—not from the cold, but from the way manon's lips lingered, like she had all the time in the world, like she wanted to make up for every stupid, reckless thing she had done tonight with this one, single kiss.

sophia hated how much she wanted to believe it.

how much she wanted to fall into it.

manon shifted slightly, adjusting her grip, holding her closer, tighter, safer.

sophia could feel the steady rhythm of manon's heart against her own, feel the way she cradled her with that maddening gentleness, as if sophia were something precious.

and slowly—helplessly—she caved.

her fingers curled against manon's chest instead of pushing her away.

her breath hitched, but she didn't break the kiss.

didn't pull back.

manon sensed it immediately.

she deepened the kiss just slightly, testing, waiting, giving sophia the chance to pull away if she wanted to.

but she didn't.

she couldn't.

so when manon kissed her again—slow, deep, and aching with something that felt dangerously close to devotion—sophia kissed her back.

and in that moment, beneath the pouring rain, beneath the golden glow of the streetlights, beneath the warmth of the only person who had ever driven her completely insane and yet somehow made her feel safe at the same time—sophia knew.

she was utterly, hopelessly ruined for this woman.

sophia barely realized what she was doing.

her arms moved as if on instinct, slowly, carefully wrapping around manon's neck, fingertips trailing along the rain-slicked warmth of her skin, tracing the curve of her nape before settling there.

it was cautious at first. hesitant. as if she still wasn't sure what she was allowing herself to feel.

but then—manon pulled her closer.

her strong hands slid to sophia's waist, fingers spreading wide, holding her with a firm yet reverent grip, as though she were something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable. and just like that, all of sophia's careful hesitation shattered.

a soft sound—barely a sigh—slipped from her lips, swallowed instantly by manon's mouth as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss without even thinking.

and oh, manon responded.

her lips moved against sophia's with aching slowness, coaxing, savoring, like she had all the time in the world. she kissed her as if she were memorizing her, as if she never wanted to forget the way sophia's breath hitched against her, the way she clung to her despite every petty protest she'd made minutes before.

the rain was relentless, cascading down their faces, dripping from their chins, soaking their clothes until they clung to their bodies. yet neither of them moved to break apart.

sophia could feel manon's heartbeat beneath her palm, steady and strong, as if grounding her, as if telling her she was safe, that she was held.

and she was.

manon held her like a promise.

her hands at sophia's waist tightened, just enough to pull her impossibly closer, just enough for sophia to feel the way their bodies fit together like something inevitable.

the sensation sent a shiver down sophia's spine—though whether it was from the cold or from the sheer intensity of manon's kiss, she didn't know.

manon must have felt it, because her hold softened, her fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against sophia's lower back, as if she was afraid she'd disappear, as if she was trying to tell her without words—i've got you.

sophia pressed closer in response, her body molding against manon's, her wet dress sticking to her skin, utterly ruined, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

all she cared about was the warmth of manon's lips, the strength of her hands, the way she kissed her like there was no one else in the world.

the slow, deliberate pull of her mouth, the way she tasted of rain and something inherently manon, the way every unspoken word, every stubborn argument, every moment of tension they had ever shared bled into this kiss.

sophia's lips curled, just barely.

even now, even after all this, she still had an effect on her.

manon wasn't immune to her.

but neither was sophia.

because when manon angled her head, adjusting the kiss so that it was even deeper, even slower—sophia felt herself sinking.

falling.

something warm spread in her chest, something that had nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with the fact that it was manon.

manon, who had chased after her despite knowing how difficult she could be.

manon, who had carried her despite her resistance, despite her protests, despite the fact that she had tried so hard to push her away.

manon, who had never let her go.

sophia was the first to pull away, but only just.

her lips parted from manon's with a lingering slowness, as if reluctant, as if savoring the very last second of their connection before breaking it. even then, she didn't go far—only enough to catch her breath, only enough for a fraction of space to form between them.

their foreheads remained pressed together, damp skin meeting damp skin, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of them moved.

the rain poured around them, relentless and cold, but between them—there was warmth.

sophia could feel manon's breath ghosting against her lips, uneven, as if she, too, was still reeling from what had just happened. her own breathing was just as unsteady, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid movements, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the kiss or the realization that had settled, heavy and undeniable, in her chest.

that had been different.

it hadn't been a kiss meant to prove a point, nor had it been a kiss stolen in the heat of frustration.

it had been something deeper.

something deliberate.

something real.

sophia exhaled shakily, her hands still resting against the nape of manon's neck, fingers lightly tangled in the damp ends of her braids. she wasn't gripping, wasn't pulling—just holding.

and manon...was still holding her, too.

her hands remained steady at sophia's waist, warm despite the cold, as if she had no intention of letting go, as if she was willing to stand there forever—just like this.

the weight of it, the sheer intimacy of it, made something catch in sophia's throat.

she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to gather herself, trying to will away the emotions threatening to overwhelm her, but she could still feel her.

could still feel the way manon's forehead rested against hers, the way their noses brushed, the way their breath mingled, warm and soft amidst the freezing rain.

her heart ached.

slowly, tentatively, sophia's thumbs began tracing slow circles against the back of manon's neck—barely-there movements, soothing and unconscious, as if she was afraid the moment would shatter if she acknowledged it too much.

she could feel manon's fingers flex against her waist in response, a silent acknowledgment, a quiet reciprocation, and for some reason, that made her breath hitch even more than the kiss had.

neither of them spoke.

there were no teasing remarks, no sharp retorts, no playful jabs to break the tension.

there was only the sound of rain.

only the quiet hum of city lights.

only the way they stood, foreheads touching, sharing breath, sharing something neither of them dared to name.

sophia didn't know how long they stayed like that.

she didn't know if it was seconds or minutes or a lifetime.

all she knew was that she didn't want to be the one to move first.

for a moment, there was only silence.

a fragile, fleeting thing—suspended between them—woven from the echoes of their kiss, from the warmth still lingering where their hands had been, from the unspoken words hovering between parted lips.

the rain continued to pour, relentless and unyielding, soaking through their clothes, plastering dark strands of hair against their skin, but neither of them seemed to notice. the world had faded into something small, something insignificant, something that existed only within the space of their breaths.

and then—a car horn shattered it all.

the sound cut through the night like a blade, sharp and jarring, and sophia flinched, physically recoiling from manon's hold.

her head snapped toward the street, toward the car idling at the curb, headlights slicing through the downpour like two burning eyes.

manon turned as well, her hands still lingering where they had been—one at sophia's waist, the other flexing slightly, as if reluctant to let go.

and inside the car, watching them with varying degrees of amusement and shock, were two very familiar faces.

megan sat behind the wheel, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel, the other elbow propped against the door, her grin absolutely insufferable. it was knowing, all teeth and mischief, like she had just walked in on the juiciest scandal of the year.

beside her, however, lara looked stunned.

her lips were slightly parted, her brows raised, her dark red hair damp from where the rain had caught the ends of it. unlike megan, who was already revving up to tease, lara seemed genuinely caught off guard. her eyes flicked rapidly between sophia and manon—between the way their bodies still hovered close, between the way sophia looked a little too breathless, between the way manon's fingers still curled like she was aching to reach out again.

the car window rolled down.

megan wasted no time.

"well, well, well," she drawled, voice carrying over the rain. "sorry to interrupt ladies but the chauffeur has arrived."

sophia froze.

it was the first time she had truly registered the position they were still in—the way her arms were still draped over manon's shoulders, the way manon was standing too close, the way they were both utterly soaked to the bone, looking like the final scene of some tragic, over-the-top romance film.

and something about realizing that—about seeing it through megan's teasing smirk, about catching the faint flicker of recognition in lara's expression—made sophia panic.

her heart stumbled, her breath hitched, and before she could think, before she could let herself feel, her body reacted on instinct.

she shoved manon away.

not forcefully, but enough to break the spell.

enough to untangle their limbs, enough to create space, enough to remind herself that she was not affected, that this had meant nothing, that her heart was not still racing, goddamn it.

manon barely moved.

she blinked, caught somewhere between surprise and something else—something unreadable, something vulnerable.

her hands fell back to her sides, her jaw tightening, but she didn't say anything.

and sophia—sophia couldn't look at her.

couldn't risk seeing the hurt that might be there.

so instead, she turned.

she took a slow step backward, then another, retreating toward the car.

lara glanced at manon—at the way she was standing completely still, drenched, silent, looking like the rain was the only thing keeping her from speaking—and then, she gave her a small, apologetic smile.

manon stood frozen in place, still feeling the ghost of sophia's hands on her neck, the way her fingers had tangled so gently into her braids, the way she had sighed against her lips like she didn't want to pull away.

had it meant nothing?

or—had it meant too much?

manon swallowed, watching as sophia neared the backseat door.

and then, finally, sophia spoke quietly.

not meeting her eyes.

"go home."

the words cut sharper than they should have.

manon's throat tightened, her jaw clenching slightly, but she said nothing.

"don't get sick."

it was barely more than a murmur, almost lost beneath the rain, but manon heard it.

she didn't miss the way sophia's hands hesitated on the door handle, the way her shoulders tensed like she wanted to say something more—but in the end, she didn't.

instead, she turned away.

she slipped inside, closing the door behind her with quiet finality, and through the blurry, rain-streaked window—manon could see her.

sophia's side profile, illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard lights, was eerily still.

she didn't glance back.

didn't look at manon standing alone in the rain.

didn't acknowledge the weight of everything that had just happened between them.

and that—somehow—hurt more than anything.

megan's voice broke the silence.

"need a lift?"

manon barely tore her gaze from sophia.

she didn't even think before muttering, low and quiet, "i have a car."

megan hummed, clearly enjoying herself far too much, but she didn't push.

"suit yourself," she said, rolling up the window. "get a cover or something. you're soaked."

and with that, she hit the gas.

the tires splashed against the wet pavement, and within seconds, the car was pulling away, disappearing into the rain.

manon didn't move.

she stood there, still as a statue, watching the taillights fade into the distance.

she had spent the whole night chasing sophia.

and now she was the one left standing behind.

the moment the car disappeared around the corner, its taillights swallowed by the rain and distance, manon exhaled.

slowly, heavily—like she had been holding something in, like she had been bracing for something that never came.

then, with a tilt of her chin, she looked up.

the sky was a vast, endless stretch of darkness, blurred by the storm, the streetlights turning the rain into silver streaks as it fell relentlessly upon her.

she let it hit her.

let the cold seep into her skin, let the water slide down her face, let the night press in.

let herself feel.

she closed her eyes.

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city, the lingering phantom of sophia in her arms.

but wait—

manon's eyes shot open.

where the fuck is yoonchae?