Keep Your Notebook Full, I Hope You Make Space For More

The grand brick arches of Kingsgate University loomed overhead as Caitlyn Kiramman smoothed her blazer for the third time that morning. Her luggage—precisely packed with color-coded labels—was stacked neatly on the curb behind her. This was her moment. The first step toward fulfilling the legacy her family had meticulously planned for generations.

She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp autumn air sharpen her focus. Her schedule for the day was etched firmly in her mind: check-in at the dorm, introduction to her professors, and a preliminary tour of the library. Efficiency was everything.

As Caitlyn adjusted the strap of her leather satchel, a sharp yell shattered her concentration.

“Watch out!”

She barely had time to turn before something—or someone—collided with her, sending her neatly organized folder scattering across the ground.

“What the—” Caitlyn began, only to freeze as she took in the sight before her.

A girl with bright pink hair, half-hidden under a backward cap, crouched beside her, clutching a skateboard. She looked utterly unbothered, a lopsided grin spreading across her face as she surveyed the mess she’d caused.

“Whoops. Didn’t see you there, Princess,” the girl said, her voice a blend of mischief and mockery.

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “It’s Caitlyn, not Princess. And you—” she gestured to her scattered papers, now being trampled by passing students—“you’ve completely ruined my system!”

The girl shrugged, picking up a crumpled page. “Looks fine to me. You’re probably one of those people who’d color-code a grocery list, huh?”

Caitlyn snatched the paper from her hands. “And you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t have a grocery list at all.”

The pink-haired girl laughed, a sound that was equal parts irritating and—Caitlyn hated to admit it—contagious. “Guilty as charged.” She extended a hand. “Name’s Vi. Try not to forget it, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?!” Caitlyn spluttered, ignoring Vi’s outstretched hand.

But Vi was already walking away, skateboard tucked under one arm. She threw a lazy salute over her shoulder. “See you around, Princess.”

Caitlyn stood there, fuming, as the crowd swallowed Vi up. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, gathering the rest of her papers.

Her first day, and she was already off schedule.

———

The hum of activity on Kingsgate University’s main quad was nearly deafening. Students with their bags slung lazily over one shoulder wove through clusters of orientation booths, laughter and chatter bouncing off the surrounding buildings. For Caitlyn, it was chaos incarnate. She tightened her grip on her perfectly balanced stack of books and took a steadying breath.

Everything would fall into place once she reached her dorm and unpacked. Order and routine—those were the pillars of her success.

The dormitory loomed ahead, a stately building with ivy crawling up its stone facade. As Caitlyn stepped inside, the scent of floor polish and fresh paint greeted her, along with the dull murmur of conversations echoing in the hallway.

Room 204. Second floor. She ascended the staircase, heels clicking with purpose, and stopped in front of the door. With a confident twist of the handle, she stepped inside—only to freeze in horror.

The room was a mess.

An open duffel bag spilled clothes across one bed, and an empty pizza box balanced precariously on the edge of the desk. A half-finished soda can sat on the windowsill, its contents suspiciously leaking onto the floor.

“What in the world…” Caitlyn muttered.

From the bathroom emerged a familiar figure. Pink hair, cocky grin, skateboard still tucked under her arm.

“Oh, hey, Cupcake!” Vi greeted, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Caitlyn’s eye twitched. “You’re my roommate?”

Vi tossed the skateboard onto her unmade bed. “Looks like it. Lucky you.”

“Lucky,” Caitlyn echoed flatly, surveying the disaster before her. “This… this is unacceptable. This is a shared space! There are rules!”

Vi flopped onto her bed, arms behind her head. “Rules, huh? Yeah, not really my thing.”

Caitlyn felt her composure slipping. “You can’t just… live like this! There’s a standard of cleanliness, and—”

Vi interrupted with a lazy wave of her hand. “Relax, Princess. I’ll keep my mess on my side. You can have your little pristine corner or whatever.”

“My corner?” Caitlyn repeated, aghast. “This is our room, and there will be no ‘messy side.’ We’ll set a cleaning schedule and stick to it.”

Vi snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to retort but snapped it shut. She refused to let this reckless, infuriating girl rattle her. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “But don’t think for a second that I’ll tolerate any more chaos.”

Vi gave her a mocking salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Caitlyn turned sharply on her heel and began unpacking, determined to restore some semblance of order to her life. But as she placed her neatly folded clothes in the wardrobe, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her perfectly curated world had just been thrown off its axis.

Vi couldn’t help but smirk as she watched Caitlyn bustle around the room like a storm in a blazer. Everything about her screamed control freak, from the way she lined up her notebooks by size to the way she glared at Vi’s empty soda can like it was a personal affront.

It was almost too easy to mess with her.

Vi leaned back on her bed, kicking her feet up on the desk. “So, what’s your deal, Princess? You here to take over the world or something?”

Caitlyn didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Come on,” Vi pressed, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You’ve got that whole ‘rich kid with a stick up her ass’ vibe going on. Let me guess—mommy and daddy sent you here to make them proud?”

Caitlyn froze mid-fold, her expression briefly flickering with something Vi couldn’t quite place. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a frosty glare.

“My academic achievements are none of your concern,” Caitlyn said coolly.

“Academic achievements,” Vi repeated with a laugh. “Right. Bet you were valedictorian or something, huh?”

Caitlyn’s silence was answer enough.

Vi chuckled, tossing the pen onto her desk. “Figures. Well, don’t worry, Cupcake. I’ll try not to cramp your style too much.”

Caitlyn muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “impossible.”

——-

Their first shared class was Political Philosophy, a course both had enrolled in for vastly different reasons. Caitlyn had already skimmed the syllabus and pre-read the assigned chapters. She’d even highlighted key arguments in her textbook.

Vi, meanwhile, strolled in five minutes late, her skateboard under one arm and a half-eaten bagel in the other.

The professor, a bespectacled man with a wiry frame, raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Vi plopped into a seat near the back. Caitlyn, seated in the front row, shot her a pointed look.

“Now,” the professor began, “who can summarize Locke’s argument for the social contract?”

Caitlyn’s hand shot up before anyone else had a chance. “Locke argued that individuals consent to surrender some of their freedoms in exchange for the protection of their natural rights by the state.”

“Excellent,” the professor said, nodding.

But before he could continue, Vi leaned back in her chair, one leg kicked over the other. “Yeah, but what happens when the state breaks that contract? Doesn’t that give people the right to revolt?”

The room went quiet. Caitlyn turned in her seat, narrowing her eyes at Vi.

“Yes,” she said tightly. “But Locke also emphasized that revolution is a last resort, only justified when—”

“When the government sucks,” Vi cut in, grinning.

Several students chuckled. Caitlyn felt her face heat. “That’s an oversimplification,” she snapped.

Vi shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not wrong.”

The professor cleared his throat, cutting off their exchange. “Both valid points. Let’s move on.”

As the lecture continued, Caitlyn couldn’t shake the feeling that Vi’s grin was aimed squarely at her back.

————

By the third day of classes, Caitlyn had already established her routine. Her mornings began with a meticulously planned schedule: an early jog around campus, breakfast in the dining hall at precisely 7:30 a.m., and a review of her lecture notes before her 9:00 a.m. class.

This morning, however, her carefully constructed plan was thrown into disarray.

It started with the skateboard.

As she stepped out of the dorm, clutching her leather-bound planner, a blur of pink and wood zipped past her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Watch it!” Caitlyn shouted, heart pounding.

Vi glanced back, grinning. “Morning, Cupcake!”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw. “Unbelievable.”

By the time she arrived at Political Philosophy, Caitlyn’s mood had soured considerably. Vi, of course, was already there, sitting sideways in her chair with her feet propped up on the desk.

The professor entered and began a lecture on Hobbes’s Leviathan, but Caitlyn found it difficult to concentrate with Vi doodling in her notebook nearby. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Could you please stop that?” Caitlyn whispered harshly.

Vi glanced at her, unimpressed. “Stop what?”

“The incessant scribbling.”

Vi held up her notebook, revealing a surprisingly detailed sketch of a dragon. “Relax, Princess. It’s art.”

“This is a lecture, not an art class,” Caitlyn snapped.

“Yeah, and I can multitask,” Vi replied with a smirk.

Caitlyn turned back to her notes, fuming. She resolved then and there to ignore Vi entirely. But when Vi’s dragon sketch somehow ended up on Caitlyn’s desk at the end of class, complete with a sarcastic note that read “For the Queen of Rules”, she couldn’t stop herself from crumpling it up in frustration.

If there was one thing Vi loved, it was getting under Caitlyn’s skin. She couldn’t help it; the girl was just so easy to rile up. Every pointed glare, every clipped retort—it was like a challenge Vi couldn’t resist.

Still, she hadn’t expected to end up defending Caitlyn.

It happened in the dining hall, during lunch. Vi was balancing a tray laden with food when she overheard a couple of guys at the next table talking about Caitlyn.

“Total snob,” one of them said. “Thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“Probably because she is,” the other replied, laughing.

Vi felt an unexpected surge of annoyance. She didn’t like Caitlyn—far from it—but that didn’t mean these idiots got to tear her down.

“Hey,” Vi said, leaning over their table. “Maybe she’s just not interested in talking to guys with the IQ of a brick.”

The first guy scowled. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” Vi said, shrugging. “Just figured someone should let you know you’re wasting your time.”

As she walked away, she caught sight of Caitlyn at a nearby table, oblivious to the exchange. For a moment, Vi considered telling her what had happened. But then she dismissed the thought. Caitlyn would probably just assume Vi had some ulterior motive.

————-

Back at their dorm, the tension between them reached a boiling point. Caitlyn had been in the middle of organizing her bookshelf when Vi burst in, tracking dirt across the carpet.

“Really?” Caitlyn said, glaring at the muddy footprints.

Vi glanced down. “Oops.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about!” Caitlyn said, exasperated. “You have no respect for shared spaces.”

“Chill, Cupcake. It’s just dirt.”

“It’s not just dirt,” Caitlyn shot back. “It’s a blatant disregard for basic cleanliness. Do you even care about anything?”

Vi froze, her usual smirk fading. For a moment, Caitlyn thought she might have gone too far.

“Yeah,” Vi said quietly. “I care about a lot of things. Just not this.”

She grabbed her skateboard and walked out, leaving Caitlyn alone with the silence—and a growing sense of unease.

That night, Caitlyn stayed up late, unable to shake the look on Vi’s face. She told herself she didn’t care, that Vi’s feelings weren’t her responsibility. But when she heard the door creak open hours later and saw Vi stumble in, clearly exhausted, something in her softened.

“Long night?” Caitlyn asked before she could stop herself.

Vi glanced at her, surprised. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Caitlyn hesitated, then said, “You should clean the carpet tomorrow.”

Vi snorted. “There she is. Thought you’d gone soft for a second.”

“I’m serious,” Caitlyn said, but there was no bite in her tone.

Vi gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

The next day, Caitlyn joined a campus study group for their shared Political Philosophy class. To her horror, Vi was already there, lounging on the couch with her signature smirk.

“Didn’t peg you for a study group kind of girl,” Caitlyn said as she sat down.

Vi shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and focused on her notes, determined to ignore Vi. But as the session progressed, it became clear that Vi hadn’t done the reading.

When the professor’s assistant asked a question about Hobbes’s views on human nature, Vi leaned over and whispered to Caitlyn, “What’s the answer?”

Caitlyn glared at her. “Maybe if you read the text, you’d know.”

“Come on, Cupcake,” Vi said, flashing a grin. “Help a girl out.”

Against her better judgment, Caitlyn muttered, “Humans are naturally selfish and need a strong authority to maintain order.”

Vi raised her hand and parroted Caitlyn’s words almost verbatim. The assistant nodded approvingly, and Vi shot Caitlyn a triumphant look.

After the session, Caitlyn confronted her. “You can’t just coast on other people’s work, Vi.”

“Why not? It’s working so far,” Vi said, winking.

Caitlyn’s frustration reached a boiling point. “You’re infuriating.”

“Thanks, Princess,” Vi said, sauntering off.

Later that week, Caitlyn and Vi found themselves in trouble during a campus event. Caitlyn had been volunteering to organize a debate, while Vi was there as part of her work-study program.

It started when Vi accidentally knocked over a stack of chairs, disrupting the event. Caitlyn’s sharp reprimand spiraled into a full-blown argument, drawing the attention of the event coordinator.

“Both of you,” the coordinator said, exasperated. “Detention. Tomorrow evening.”

Caitlyn was mortified. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Doesn’t matter,” the coordinator replied. “Figure out how to work together.”

The detention turned out to be cleaning the campus library—a task that neither of them was thrilled about.

“Great,” Caitlyn muttered as she wiped down bookshelves. “This is exactly how I wanted to spend my Friday night.”

Vi smirked. “Could be worse. At least you’ve got me for company.”

Caitlyn shot her a withering glare. “That’s not a comfort.”

Despite their bickering, they ended up having an oddly productive evening. At one point, Vi found an old, tattered copy of The Art of War and started reading passages aloud in an overly dramatic voice.

“‘All warfare is based on deception,’” Vi intoned. “Sounds like your strategy for test prep.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but laugh, though she quickly masked it. “You’re insufferable.”

By the end of the night, they were both exhausted but strangely at ease with each other.

The turning point came during a late-night study session. Caitlyn was burning the midnight oil, pouring over her notes for an upcoming exam. Vi, meanwhile, was lounging on her bed, tossing a stress ball against the wall.

“Don’t you have studying to do?” Caitlyn asked irritably.

Vi shrugged. “Already did it.”

Caitlyn didn’t believe her. “You’re going to fail.”

“Doubt it,” Vi said, catching the ball.

Caitlyn sighed, the weight of her perfectionism pressing down on her. “You make it look so easy,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Vi paused. “It’s not.”

Caitlyn looked up, surprised by the seriousness in Vi’s tone.

“It’s not easy,” Vi repeated. “I just don’t show it.”

For a moment, the tension between them softened. But then Vi tossed the ball back into the air, breaking the spell.

“Good luck with your studying, Cupcake,” she said, smirking as she left the room.

Here’s an expanded version of the chapter that includes Caitlyn’s struggles, running in parallel to Vi’s. Their challenges mirror and contrast each other, highlighting the emotional and psychological pressures both face, even as their rivalry blinds them to their shared burdens.

The dorm room was quiet except for the faint scratch of Caitlyn’s pen and the occasional click of her keyboard. The glow of her desk lamp illuminated the sea of meticulously organized notes and flashcards before her, but her focus faltered. Her mind drifted to the crisp, ivory envelope that lay unopened on the edge of her desk.

It was from her parents.

She didn’t need to open it to know what it would say. She could already hear her mother’s clipped tone and her father’s calculated disapproval.

“We expect great things from you, Caitlyn.”
“Don’t forget what’s at stake.”
“Don’t let us down.”

The pressure was always there, a constant weight that never lessened no matter how well she performed. And she had performed. Perfect grades, top of her class, every extracurricular meticulously curated to build the ideal future they envisioned for her. But perfection wasn’t a goal; it was an expectation.

Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to Vi, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, staring at her phone. She seemed unusually subdued, her typical irreverence replaced by something quieter, heavier. Caitlyn had spent enough time with Vi to recognize the shift, but she said nothing.

She had her own battles to fight.

With a sharp breath, Caitlyn turned back to her notes, pushing the envelope aside. She told herself it could wait. It wasn’t like anything in it would be a surprise.

Vi’s phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with a familiar name: Powder. She stared at it for a long moment before finally hitting the call button.

“Vi!” Powder’s voice came through, bright and cheerful, but Vi could hear the cracks beneath it.

“Hey, Powder,” Vi said, keeping her voice low. She glanced at Caitlyn, who didn’t seem to notice. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know,” Powder said, her words too quick, too light. “Just working on this thing—a new gadget. You’d love it. It’s got these gears and—”

“Pow,” Vi interrupted gently. “What’s really going on?”

There was a pause, and Vi’s stomach tightened.

“I… I don’t know,” Powder admitted finally, her voice small. “It’s just been hard, Vi. The landlord’s being a jerk about the rent, and I tried to fix the water heater, but now it’s leaking, and…”

“Okay, slow down,” Vi said, her voice steady. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” Powder’s voice cracked. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, Vi. I’m just messing everything up!”

“You’re not messing up,” Vi said quickly. “You’re doing the best you can. That’s enough.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Powder whispered.

Vi closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her knees. “Hey,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in this, okay? I’m here. Always.”

Across the room, Caitlyn’s phone buzzed. She ignored it at first, but when it buzzed again, she sighed and picked it up. The message was from her mother:

“Did you receive the letter? We need to discuss your progress. Call us.”

Caitlyn stared at the screen, her chest tightening. She could already picture the conversation. Her mother would ask about her grades, her professors’ opinions, her plans for the next semester. There would be no room for uncertainty, no allowance for mistakes.

She set the phone down without replying, her hands trembling slightly. The envelope on her desk seemed to grow larger, more imposing.

Why did it always feel like she was running out of time?

Vi’s conversation with Powder continued, the tension in her sister’s voice cutting through her like a knife.

“I’ll send you some money,” Vi said finally. “To cover the water heater and whatever else. Just… don’t try to fix it yourself again, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Powder asked hesitantly. “I know you’ve got your own stuff…”

“Don’t worry about me,” Vi said, forcing a smile that Powder couldn’t see. “I’ve got it handled.”

It was a lie, but Powder didn’t need to know that.

Caitlyn finally broke. She grabbed the envelope and tore it open, her hands shaking. The letter inside was exactly what she’d expected: a detailed critique of her performance, laced with veiled threats about what failure would mean for the family’s reputation.

Her vision blurred as she read the final line:

“We trust you won’t disappoint us.”

Caitlyn folded the letter carefully and set it aside, her face betraying no emotion. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not ever.

Vi ended the call with Powder, her chest heavy. She shoved her phone into her pocket and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. She felt like she was being pulled in a thousand directions at once.

“Everything okay?” Caitlyn’s voice broke the silence.

Vi looked up, startled. Caitlyn was watching her, her expression carefully neutral.

“Yeah,” Vi said quickly. “Just family stuff.”

Caitlyn hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more, but then she turned back to her work. “Good night, Vi,” she said softly.

Vi stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Good night, Cupcake.”

The room fell silent again, each girl lost in her own thoughts. Caitlyn stared at her laptop, the words on the screen blurring together. Vi lay on her bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

They were both carrying weights they couldn’t share, trapped in their own battles. But neither was willing to show vulnerability, not to each other, not to anyone.

For now, the rivalry would have to be enough.

“What’s wrong?” Caitlyn asks before she can stop herself.

Vi hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Go back to your essay.”

But Caitlyn notices the tension in Vi’s shoulders and the way her hands are clenched into fists. For once, she doesn’t press.

“Good night, Vi,” Caitlyn says softly.

Vi pauses at the door, looking back at her. “Night, Cupcake.”

As the door closes, Caitlyn finds herself wondering what Vi isn’t telling her—and why she suddenly cares so much.

———

The library was silent, save for the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of a chair. It was the kind of silence that demanded respect, a tangible hush that wrapped around everyone who entered. Caitlyn had always loved that about the library. Here, everything had its place, and everyone knew the rules.

She sat at her usual table near the large bay windows, her notes spread out in neat rows. The late afternoon sun filtered through the glass, casting soft, golden light across her papers. It should have been the perfect environment for focus, but her mind was elsewhere.

The letter.

It sat at the corner of her desk back in the dorm, its contents seared into her memory despite her best efforts to ignore it. She didn’t need to reread it to know what it said. The words were always the same—thinly veiled critiques wrapped in the guise of encouragement.

“We trust you’ll continue to uphold the family name.”
“Anything less than excellence is unacceptable.”
“Remember, Caitlyn, your future isn’t just yours—it reflects on all of us.”

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to refocus. Dwelling on it wouldn’t help. If anything, it would only distract her, and distraction wasn’t an option. She had a paper due in less than 48 hours and an exam to study for on top of that.

Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn smoothed a crease in her notebook and bent over her notes, her pen moving in precise, deliberate strokes.

The creak of the library’s heavy oak doors barely registered at first. Students came and went all the time—some quiet, some less so—but when the footsteps didn’t fade and instead grew louder, more purposeful, Caitlyn glanced up.

Her stomach sank.

Vi.

Of course, it was Vi.

The pink-haired menace strode into the library like she owned the place, her leather jacket slung over one shoulder and a cocky smirk on her face. Caitlyn watched in dismay as Vi scanned the room, her sharp eyes landing on Caitlyn’s table with unsettling precision.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Caitlyn muttered under her breath.

Vi made a beeline for her, ignoring the whispered protests of a student she bumped into along the way. Caitlyn kept her gaze fixed on her notes, hoping—praying—that Vi would take the hint and leave her alone.

No such luck.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cupcake,” Vi drawled, dropping into the seat directly across from Caitlyn.

“What are you doing here?” Caitlyn hissed, her voice low but sharp. “This is a library, not a boxing ring.”

Vi leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed behind her head. “What, I can’t come to the library? Maybe I’m here to expand my horizons. Learn something new. Ever think of that?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “You hate the library.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Vi said, her smirk widening. “I’d say it’s more of a mild disdain.”

“Do you even have any work to do?” Caitlyn asked, glaring at her.

Vi reached into her bag and pulled out a thick textbook, slapping it onto the table with an exaggerated flourish. “See? I’m being studious. Like you.”

Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. “Just… don’t be disruptive, okay? Some of us actually need to concentrate.”

Vi made a show of flipping open the textbook, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness. “Disruptive? Me? Never.”

For a while, the two of them sat in tense silence. Caitlyn tried to lose herself in her work, but Vi’s presence was impossible to ignore. Every time Vi shifted in her chair or tapped her pen against the table, Caitlyn’s focus shattered.

Finally, Caitlyn couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you really here?” she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looked up from her textbook, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I just wanted some company,” she said lightly.

Caitlyn scoffed. “You’ve never cared about company before. Not mine, at least.”

Vi shrugged, her gaze drifting to the window. “Maybe I’m full of surprises.”

Caitlyn studied her for a moment, her irritation giving way to curiosity. There was something different about Vi today—something quieter, more subdued. But before she could dwell on it, Vi’s smirk returned, and whatever vulnerability Caitlyn thought she’d seen was gone.

“Anyway,” Vi said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand. “What’s got you so wound up today? You’re even snippier than usual.”

Caitlyn stiffened. “I’m not wound up.”

“Uh-huh,” Vi said, her tone dripping with skepticism. “Let me guess. Big test coming up? Or maybe you’re stressed about that paper you’ve been working on for the past three hours?”

“I’m not stressed,” Caitlyn said through gritted teeth.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Cupcake. Whatever you say.”

Caitlyn’s pen hovered over her notebook, her fingers tightening around it. She wanted to snap back, to put Vi in her place, but the truth was, Vi wasn’t entirely wrong. She was wound up—more than usual—and Vi’s presence wasn’t helping.

But admitting that wasn’t an option.

Instead, Caitlyn took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on her work. Vi watched her for a moment longer before turning back to her textbook, flipping through the pages with an exaggerated lack of interest.

Minutes turned into an hour, and the tension between them slowly began to dissipate. Despite her initial annoyance, Caitlyn found herself oddly comforted by Vi’s presence. It was distracting, yes, but it was also… grounding, in a strange way.

Vi, for her part, seemed content to stay quiet—for once—and Caitlyn began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they could coexist peacefully.

That illusion was shattered when Vi let out a loud sigh, drawing the attention of several nearby students.

“Do you mind?” Caitlyn hissed, glaring at her.

“Sorry,” Vi said, not sounding sorry at all. “This book is boring as hell.”

“Maybe if you actually read it, you’d find it interesting,” Caitlyn shot back.

Vi snorted. “Doubtful. What about you, though? What’s so fascinating over there?”

Caitlyn hesitated, unsure whether to engage. But something about the way Vi was looking at her—genuine curiosity flickering beneath the teasing—made her pause.

“It’s for my political theory class,” Caitlyn said finally. “I’m writing a paper on the ethical implications of governance.”

Vi blinked. “Wow. Sounds… intense.”

“It is,” Caitlyn said, her tone softening slightly. “But it’s important. These are the kinds of decisions that shape people’s lives.”

Vi tilted her head, studying Caitlyn with an intensity that made her squirm. “You really care about this stuff, huh?”

Caitlyn nodded, surprised by the question. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

Vi shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I care about people. The rest of it? I don’t know. Feels like a lot of talk that doesn’t go anywhere.”

Caitlyn frowned. “It’s more than just talk. It’s about creating systems that work for everyone.”

“Yeah, but do they?” Vi asked, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Work for everyone, I mean?”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. For a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other, the weight of the question hanging between them.

The library’s clock chimed softly, signaling the hour. Caitlyn glanced at her watch, startled by how much time had passed.

“I should get back to work,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Vi said, her smirk returning. “Wouldn’t want you falling behind, would we?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something about Vi’s irreverence that made the weight on her shoulders feel a little lighter.

For now, that would have to be enough.

——-

The ethics class was droning on in the background, the professor’s voice barely registering as Vi stared out the window. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the subject matter—okay, maybe she didn’t care much—but her mind was elsewhere. Powder.

She had been acting weird lately. Every time Vi called her, she’d brush off questions with a quick, “Everything’s fine,” followed by a string of unrelated chatter. Vi knew her sister better than that. Powder never knew when to stop talking, and when she started avoiding the truth, her stories became… chaotic.

As the professor scribbled something about moral relativism on the whiteboard, Vi felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She ignored it at first, not wanting to draw attention to herself. But when the buzzing came again, a second time, then a third, Vi couldn’t resist.

She fished out her phone under the desk and glanced at the screen.

Powder

The name flashing across her phone made her heart drop. Powder never called during school hours—she knew better. Vi’s pulse quickened as she unlocked the phone and read the flurry of texts that had just come in.

Powder: Don’t freak out, but I need your help.
Powder: Please pick up. It’s kind of bad.
Powder: Vi, seriously. Call me.

“Shit,” Vi muttered under her breath.

Without thinking, she shoved her notebook into her bag, muttered a barely audible “Sorry” to the professor, and bolted for the door. The eyes of her classmates burned into her back, but she didn’t care. Powder didn’t call unless it was serious, and if it was serious, Vi wasn’t about to waste time sitting in class.

Once she was in the hallway, she hit the call button. It rang twice before Powder picked up.

“Pow? What’s going on?”

“Don’t freak out,” Powder said immediately, her voice breathless. “It’s… under control. Kind of.”

“Define ‘kind of,’” Vi said, her voice tight.

Powder hesitated, which was never a good sign. “Okay, so you know the water heater?”

Vi groaned, already knowing where this was going. “What did you do, Powder?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Powder said quickly. “It was already leaking, and I thought I could fix it. You know, like you always do. But then I—uh—might’ve made it worse.”

Vi stopped in her tracks, running a hand through her hair. “How much worse?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, followed by a muffled crash and Powder yelling, “I’m fine!”

“Powder,” Vi said, her voice dangerously calm.

“It’s not that bad,” Powder said, clearly lying. “Just a little water. I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t,” Vi snapped. “Don’t touch anything else. I’ll call someone to fix it.”

“But—”

“Promise me, Powder,” Vi interrupted. “You’re not touching it again.”

Powder sighed dramatically. “Fine. I promise. But I could’ve handled it, you know. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Vi closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you’re not a kid, but that doesn’t mean you need to play handyman. Just—stay put, okay? I’ll figure this out.”

“Okay,” Powder mumbled, her voice small.

Vi hung up and leaned against the wall, her mind racing. It wasn’t just the water heater. It was everything. Powder trying to fix things she couldn’t, taking on responsibilities that weren’t hers—Vi knew it was her fault. She’d left, after all, and now Powder was trying to fill the gap.

She glanced at the time. It was too late to call anyone now, but first thing tomorrow, she’d find a plumber and figure out how to pay for it.

But the guilt lingered.

Vi was back in her dorm room, sprawled on her bed with her phone in hand. She’d been scrolling through her contacts, debating whether to call Powder again, when the door creaked open.

Caitlyn walked in, looking as polished as ever despite the late hour. She had a stack of books balanced in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

“You left class early,” Caitlyn said without looking at her.

Vi grunted in response.

“Everything okay?” Caitlyn pressed, setting her books down on her desk.

“Why do you care?” Vi shot back, not bothering to look up.

Caitlyn sighed, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I don’t, really. I just don’t want to deal with the fallout if you flunk out and they blame me for it.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Relax, Cupcake. I’m fine.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the issue. Instead, she sat down at her desk and began typing, the soft clatter of keys filling the room.

Vi tried to focus on her phone, but her mind kept drifting back to Powder. She could practically hear her sister’s voice, chattering away about whatever new gadget or invention she was working on.

“Everything’s not fine, is it?” Caitlyn’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Vi looked up, startled. Caitlyn was watching her, her expression unreadable.

“What makes you say that?” Vi asked, her tone defensive.

“You’re jittery,” Caitlyn said simply. “And you keep staring at your phone like you’re waiting for it to explode.”

Vi snorted. “Maybe I am.”

Caitlyn didn’t laugh. She just kept looking at her, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Is it family stuff?”

Vi stiffened. She hated how easily Caitlyn could see through her. “None of your business,” she said shortly.

Caitlyn shrugged, turning back to her laptop. “Suit yourself.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, save for the hum of Caitlyn’s computer. Vi considered telling her—just a little, just enough to get it off her chest—but the thought of Caitlyn knowing her business made her stomach turn.

Instead, she grabbed her jacket and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Caitlyn asked without looking up.

“Out,” Vi said shortly, slamming the door behind her before Caitlyn could respond.

Vi found herself on the rooftop of their dorm building, the cool night air biting at her skin. She lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember the only light in the darkness.

Her mind raced as she inhaled, the smoke curling around her like a protective shield. She thought about Powder, about the water heater, about everything she’d left behind when she came here.

“Still smoking those death sticks, huh?”

Vi turned to see Caitlyn standing a few feet away, her arms crossed.

“What are you doing here?” Vi asked, her tone more curious than annoyed.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Caitlyn said, walking over to join her. “Figured I’d find you up here.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “What, you’ve been stalking me now?”

“Hardly,” Caitlyn said, rolling her eyes. “You’re just predictable.”

Vi chuckled despite herself. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a while, the city lights stretching out before them.

“You’re worried about your sister, aren’t you?” Caitlyn said finally.

Vi glanced at her, surprised. “How’d you figure that out?”

Caitlyn gave her a small, knowing smile. “You’re not as hard to read as you think you are.”

Vi sighed, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well. She’s a handful.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Caitlyn said softly.

Vi snorted. “Yeah, sure. Lucky to have a sister who left her behind.”

Caitlyn frowned. “You didn’t leave her behind. You’re here because you’re trying to build something better—for both of you.”

Vi stared at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. For once, there was no sarcasm, no teasing. Just honesty.

“Thanks, Cupcake,” Vi said after a moment, her voice quiet.

Caitlyn smiled faintly. “Don’t mention it.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Vi felt a flicker of hope.

——

Caitlyn’s day had gone from bad to worse.

She’d barely managed to scrape through her history lecture, her professor singling her out to answer an obscure question about socio-political revolutions. Though she’d answered correctly, the faint snickers of her classmates gnawed at her.

To top it off, the letter from her parents still sat in her bag, unopened but heavy enough to weigh down her thoughts. She knew exactly what it would say without reading it: polite yet stern reminders of the Kiramman legacy and the necessity of maintaining perfection in all aspects of her life.

Now, sitting in the crowded library, Caitlyn stared at her laptop screen, the blinking cursor on her half-finished essay taunting her. The assignment wasn’t due for another week, but she couldn’t afford to fall behind. She had to stay ahead—always.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came. Instead, her thoughts spiraled back to Vi. She had seen her roommate rush out of class earlier, clearly distracted. Something was wrong—Caitlyn could feel it. But Vi had brushed her off, as usual.

“Ugh,” Caitlyn muttered, leaning back in her chair.

She knew she shouldn’t care. Vi’s problems weren’t hers to solve. And yet, there was something about her—a quiet vulnerability beneath the bravado—that Caitlyn couldn’t ignore.

“Stuck on something?”

The voice startled Caitlyn out of her thoughts. She looked up to see one of her classmates, a boy named Alaric, grinning at her from across the table.

“No,” Caitlyn said quickly, straightening in her seat. “Just… distracted.”

Alaric chuckled. “You? Distracted? That’s a first.”

Caitlyn forced a smile, not in the mood for small talk. “Well, even I have my off days.”

“Let me guess,” Alaric said, leaning closer. “Parental pressure?”

Caitlyn’s smile faltered. “What makes you say that?”

Alaric shrugged. “You’re always so… perfect. It’s exhausting just watching you. Must be worse than actually living it.”

The comment stung more than Caitlyn expected. “I manage,” she said coolly, turning her attention back to her laptop.

“Sure you do,” Alaric said, smirking. “But maybe you should take a break. Go out, have some fun. Loosen up a bit.”

Caitlyn ignored him, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a sudden burst of activity. Alaric sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly bored.

“Suit yourself,” he said, standing up. “But if you ever want to blow off some steam, you know where to find me.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond.

——

Later that evening, Caitlyn returned to the dorms, her essay finally finished but her mood no better. She pushed open the door to the common room, intending to grab a cup of tea before heading to bed.

To her surprise, Vi was there, sprawled on the couch with her boots propped up on the coffee table. She was flipping through channels on the TV, a half-empty bag of chips in her lap.

“You know that’s communal property, right?” Caitlyn said, eyeing the crumbs scattered across the couch.

Vi smirked. “Relax, Cupcake. I’ll clean up.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and made her way to the kitchenette. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, the familiar ritual calming her nerves.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Vi said suddenly, her tone casual.

Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder, surprised. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

Vi shrugged. “I don’t. Just seems weird not having you nag me about something.”

Caitlyn turned back to the stove, her hands tightening around the handle of the kettle. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”

“Let me guess,” Vi said, sitting up. “Mommy and Daddy issues?”

The comment hit too close to home, and Caitlyn’s grip on the kettle tightened. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said evenly, “but yes, I did receive a letter from my parents today.”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’d they say?”

“Nothing you’d understand,” Caitlyn snapped, immediately regretting it.

Vi’s expression darkened, her usual smirk fading. “Try me.”

Caitlyn hesitated. Part of her wanted to brush Vi off, but another part—one she didn’t quite understand—wanted to talk.

“They want me to maintain my grades,” she said finally. “To uphold the family name.”

Vi snorted. “Sounds rough. Having too much money must be such a burden.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“And you don’t know anything about mine,” Vi shot back.

The room fell silent, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Why do you always do that?” Caitlyn asked after a moment.

“Do what?”

“Dismiss my problems like they don’t matter,” Caitlyn said, her voice rising. “Just because I come from a wealthy family doesn’t mean my life is perfect.”

Vi stared at her, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. “Maybe I do it because I don’t have the luxury of worrying about grades or reputations. Some of us have bigger things to deal with.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that Vi was right.

The kettle whistled, breaking the silence. Caitlyn turned off the stove and poured the boiling water into her mug, the simple task giving her a moment to collect her thoughts.

When she turned back to Vi, she was surprised to see a hint of vulnerability in her expression.

“Look,” Vi said, her voice softer now. “I get that your parents put a lot of pressure on you. But that doesn’t mean you have to let it control you.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “And what would you suggest? Ditching my responsibilities and running away?”

“Maybe,” Vi said with a shrug. “Or maybe just… living for yourself once in a while.”

Caitlyn frowned, mulling over Vi’s words. She hated to admit it, but there was a certain logic to what she was saying.

“Is that what you do?” Caitlyn asked. “Live for yourself?”

Vi hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I try. Doesn’t always work out, though.”

The honesty in her voice caught Caitlyn off guard. For the first time, she saw past the bravado and saw someone who was just as lost as she was.

“Thanks,” Caitlyn said quietly.

Vi looked up, surprised. “For what?”

“For not dismissing me,” Caitlyn said.

Vi smirked, the vulnerability in her eyes replaced by her usual confidence. “Don’t get used to it, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn smiled faintly, taking a sip of her tea. For once, the nickname didn’t bother her.

————

The campus lecture hall buzzed with energy as students trickled in, chatting animatedly and staking their claim on the best seats. Today’s debate was one of the most anticipated events of the term—a heated discussion on the ethical implications of technology in governance. It wasn’t just an academic exercise; it was a competition.

At the center of it all, Caitlyn sat calmly in the front row, her blazer crisp and notebook organized with meticulous precision. She scanned her neatly printed notes one final time, confident in the arguments she had painstakingly crafted over the past week.

Across the room, Vi sauntered in, late as usual, with a half-empty coffee cup in hand. Her denim jacket looked as though it had been crumpled on the floor minutes before, and she carried no notes or laptop. Instead, she slid into a seat with a lopsided grin, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Caitlyn.

“Ready to get schooled, Cupcake?” Vi called out, loud enough for the nearby students to hear. A few of them snickered, clearly entertained by the ongoing feud.

Caitlyn didn’t even flinch. Without looking up, she replied, “If by ‘schooled,’ you mean watching me wipe the floor with your half-baked arguments, then yes. I’m ready.”

The snickers turned into outright laughter, and Vi leaned back in her seat, smirking. “We’ll see about that.”

The moderator, a stern-faced professor with sharp glasses, stepped up to the podium and called the room to order.

“All right, everyone. Settle down,” she said, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Today’s topic is one that requires both critical thinking and nuanced debate. You’ve been divided into teams, and I trust you’ve prepared adequately. Let’s begin.”

Caitlyn and Vi were, of course, on opposing teams.

The first few rounds of the debate were tame, almost polite. Team members took turns presenting their arguments, citing studies and historical examples. Caitlyn’s voice was steady and authoritative as she laid out her case for the responsible regulation of technology in governance.

“The unchecked use of technology,” she argued, “poses significant risks to civil liberties. History has shown us time and again that without proper oversight, power can and will be abused.”

Her words were met with nods of agreement from her teammates and even some of the audience members. Caitlyn allowed herself a small smile, confident she had set the tone.

Then it was Vi’s turn.

She strolled to the podium with the air of someone who had nothing to lose, her smirk firmly in place.

“Let’s be real for a second,” Vi began, her voice casual but commanding. “All this talk about regulation sounds great on paper, but who decides what counts as ‘responsible’? The same people who’ve been screwing us over for decades?”

A ripple of laughter ran through the audience, and even the professor raised an eyebrow. Vi leaned on the podium, her eyes scanning the room.

“Technology isn’t the problem,” she continued. “People are. You can regulate all you want, but until you fix the human side of the equation, you’re just slapping a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.”

Her words hung in the air, provocative and raw. The audience buzzed with renewed energy, and Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. She hated to admit it, but Vi had a knack for connecting with people in a way that made her arguments hard to dismiss.

As the debate progressed, the tension between Caitlyn and Vi grew palpable. They didn’t just argue their points; they argued with each other.

“Your solution lacks any semblance of practicality,” Caitlyn said, her tone sharp. “Regulation isn’t perfect, but it’s a necessary safeguard. Without it, you’re opening the door to chaos.”

Vi shrugged, unbothered. “And your plan assumes people in power will always act in good faith. Newsflash, Princess: they don’t.”

Caitlyn bristled at the nickname. “This isn’t about blind trust; it’s about creating a system of checks and balances.”

“And how well has that worked so far?” Vi shot back. “Look at the world we live in. Corruption is everywhere, and you want to give those same people even more control?”

The audience watched, captivated, as the two clashed. They were polar opposites in every way—Caitlyn polished and methodical, Vi raw and unpredictable—and it made for an electrifying debate.

It wasn’t until the final round that things truly came to a head.

Each team was given a chance to rebut the other’s arguments, and Caitlyn took the lead for her side. She stood at the podium, her voice firm and unyielding.

“Vi’s arguments rely on cynicism and a fundamental mistrust of authority,” she said. “While I understand her concerns, they lack constructive solutions. It’s easy to tear something down, but much harder to build something better.”

The room fell silent, Caitlyn’s words striking a chord. She stepped down, her head held high, confident she had the last word.

But Vi wasn’t done.

She stood up, walking to the podium with deliberate slowness. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than before, almost reflective.

“Caitlyn’s right about one thing,” she began. “It is easier to tear something down than to build something better. But here’s the thing: sometimes, you have to tear down what’s broken before you can even start building.”

She paused, letting her words sink in.

“I’m not saying we don’t need systems or safeguards,” she continued. “But those systems should serve the people—not the other way around. And until we figure out how to make that happen, no amount of regulation will fix the problem.”

The room buzzed with hushed whispers as Vi stepped down.

The debate ended in a draw, the professor praising both teams for their strong arguments and compelling delivery.

As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Caitlyn lingered, gathering her things with meticulous care. Vi, as usual, was one of the last to leave.

“Nice job, Cupcake,” she said, stopping by Caitlyn’s desk. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Caitlyn looked up, her expression guarded. “I could say the same to you. For someone who doesn’t bother preparing, you’re surprisingly articulate.”

Vi grinned. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

As Vi turned to leave, Caitlyn called out, “Vi.”

She stopped, glancing back.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Caitlyn said.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About people,” Caitlyn said softly. “They’re not all corrupt. Some of them really do want to make things better.”

Vi studied her for a moment, her usual smirk replaced by something softer. “Maybe,” she said finally. “But you’ll have to prove it to me, Princess.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Caitlyn to wonder if they were destined to clash forever—or if, just maybe, they had more in common than either of them realized.

———

The campus felt quieter than usual that night, a heavy stillness hanging in the air as Vi sat on the steps outside their dorm building. The light from a nearby streetlamp cast a pale glow over her figure, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her jaw.

In her hand, a nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey dangled loosely, the amber liquid catching the light. She tipped it back for another sip, grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, each one dragging her deeper into memories she’d tried so hard to bury. She hated this—this gnawing ache in her chest, this relentless voice in her head reminding her of everything she’d lost, everything she’d failed to protect.

It had been three years since the fire. Three years since she’d watched helplessly as her home burned to the ground, taking her parents with it. She could still hear the crackling flames, still smell the acrid smoke, still feel the weight of her sister’s small hand in hers as they ran into the night, leaving everything behind.

She’d told herself it wasn’t her fault. Everyone had told her that. But no matter how many times she heard it, no matter how desperately she wanted to believe it, the guilt never went away.

Because deep down, she knew the truth.

She should’ve been there. She should’ve done something.

Vi closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cold stone steps. Above her, the stars were faint, barely visible through the haze of city lights. She’d grown up believing they were Janna’s eyes, watching over the world, guiding the lost and protecting the helpless.

But not her.

Not anymore.

Vi had once been devout, her faith in Janna as strong as the winds her parents had claimed the goddess commanded. Her mother used to say that Janna’s blessings came in the form of small miracles—a breeze on a scorching day, the smell of rain before a storm. Her father would always add that Janna’s love was boundless, her forgiveness infinite.

Vi had believed them. She’d prayed every night, her whispered words carried on the wind, trusting that Janna would hear her, that she would answer.

But on the night of the fire, Janna had been silent.

Vi had begged for a miracle, pleaded for the goddess to save her family. But no breeze had come to douse the flames, no divine intervention to rewrite the ending.

And so, Vi had stopped praying.

“Why should I bother?” she muttered to herself, her voice slurring slightly from the alcohol. “She doesn’t care. She never did.”

Her grip tightened around the bottle as a bitter laugh escaped her. “Maybe… maybe I deserved it. Maybe it was her way of punishing me.”

The thought had haunted her for years. Her parents had always told her she was wild, reckless, too quick to anger. What if Janna had seen that, seen the darkness in her heart, and decided she wasn’t worth saving?

What if she’d let them die because of her?

The sound of footsteps jolted Vi out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Caitlyn approaching, her blazer still immaculate despite the late hour.

“What are you doing out here?” Caitlyn asked, her tone sharp as she eyed the whiskey bottle in Vi’s hand.

Vi smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “What’s it look like, Cupcake? Having a little ‘me’ time.”

Caitlyn frowned, crossing her arms. “It looks like you’re self-destructing.”

“Wow, thanks for the insight,” Vi said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to add that to my list of things I already know.”

Caitlyn sighed, clearly exasperated. “You can’t keep doing this, Vi. Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t going to fix anything.”

Vi’s smirk faltered, the weight of Caitlyn’s words hitting too close to home. “What do you care?” she muttered. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“You’re right,” Caitlyn said, surprising Vi with her honesty. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I know what it’s like to feel trapped. To feel like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

Vi looked away, her throat tightening. She didn’t want Caitlyn’s pity, didn’t want her understanding. She just wanted to forget.

“I don’t need a lecture,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “I just… I need to be alone.”

Caitlyn hesitated, clearly torn. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “But don’t think for a second that I’m going to let this go.”

Vi didn’t respond as Caitlyn turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the night.

Alone again, Vi took another swig of whiskey, but it did little to dull the pain. Her thoughts drifted back to her sister, Powder, who had been just ten years old when their parents died.

Vi had promised to take care of her, to protect her no matter what. But how could she protect anyone when she couldn’t even save herself?

The memories came in waves—Powder crying herself to sleep in their tiny apartment, the look of disappointment in her eyes when Vi came home drunk, the countless nights Vi had spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if her parents would be ashamed of the person she’d become.

She wiped angrily at her eyes, refusing to let herself cry. She didn’t deserve to cry.

“You’re a mess, V,” she muttered to herself. “I’m the reason she’s hurting.”

Powder hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d stayed with Vi, holding on through the chaos, trying to stay strong for both of them. But Vi could see it in her eyes—the quiet desperation, the silent plea for her to get better, to stop spiraling.

Powder didn’t deserve to watch her sister fall apart. She didn’t deserve the wreck Vi had become.

For the first time in years, Vi found herself looking up at the stars, her voice barely a whisper.

“Janna,” she said, the name foreign on her tongue. “If you’re out there… if you’re still listening…”

She paused, her throat tightening. “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know how to fix this. But if there’s any part of me worth saving… please. Just give me a sign.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees around her. For a moment, Vi thought she felt something—a faint, almost imperceptible warmth.

But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving her alone in the silence.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Figures.”

Draining the last of the whiskey, Vi stood up, her legs unsteady. She didn’t know if Janna had heard her, and she wasn’t sure she cared.

All she knew was that she couldn’t keep running forever.

——

The library was the last place Caitlyn wanted to be that evening. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as she sat hunched over a pile of textbooks, her fingers tapping on the desk in frustration. The sound of pages flipping seemed louder than usual tonight, as if they were mocking her.

Vi had won the debate. That much she could still feel deep in her bones. No matter how much Caitlyn replayed her arguments, the victory felt elusive—tainted by Vi’s unearned charm and flair. Vi didn’t deserve it. She hadn’t put in the work. But somehow, she still came out on top.

The scalding, gnawing feeling of defeat had kept Caitlyn up all night after the debate, and now, here she was again, buried in textbooks, trying to forget the sting of losing to the one person she could never seem to beat.

The door to the library creaked open, and Caitlyn didn’t need to look up to know who had walked in.

Vi, effortlessly breezing into the room, her confidence radiating from her every step. She was holding a cup of coffee in one hand, swinging her bag lazily from her shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart, still beating yourself up over the debate?” Vi’s voice was light, teasing.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the pages in front of her, pretending she hadn’t heard the words.

Vi slid into the chair next to Caitlyn, propping her feet up on the desk, her posture casual. “You know, I gotta admit, it’s kinda cute how much you care about winning. You looked pretty desperate up there. Were you just a little bit afraid of losing?”

That was the last straw. Caitlyn’s heart rate spiked as her temper flared. She slammed her textbook shut, ignoring the loud thud that echoed through the quiet library.

“I’m not afraid of losing, Vi. I’m afraid of wasting my time. Unlike you, I actually care about doing things the right way. Not just showing up and hoping my charisma wins the day.” Caitlyn’s voice was low but firm, eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt.

Vi raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into that irritating, maddening smirk. “I never said you were doing it the ‘right’ way. But maybe you should start considering that there’s more to this than just formulas and facts. You’re all work, Cait. You’ve got no room for fun, no room to let things happen. That’s why you lose every time.”

Caitlyn’s face flushed with frustration, her nails digging into the edge of the table. “You’re delusional if you think this is about ‘fun,’ Vi. People don’t succeed by just doing whatever feels right in the moment. They succeed because they put in the effort, they plan, and they—”

Her voice cracked, and she stopped herself. She couldn’t believe it. She was getting emotional over this. Over her damn rivalry with Vi.

Vi didn’t miss the vulnerability in Caitlyn’s words. Her expression shifted just slightly, something like understanding flickering behind her eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Aw, look at you. Getting all worked up. Cute,” Vi teased, but this time, there was an edge to her voice that Caitlyn didn’t quite understand.

“Don’t patronize me,” Caitlyn snapped, leaning forward. “You think it’s all a joke, don’t you? You think that just because you can talk your way out of anything, you’re better than me?”

Vi’s eyes glinted dangerously as she leaned back in her chair, a smug grin spreading across her face. “Better than you? Oh, I don’t need to be ‘better’ than you. I’m just better at playing the game. You can work yourself into the ground and still lose. But you know what I’m really good at?” Vi paused, savoring the moment. “I’m good at getting under your skin. That’s the real victory. The one you’ll never see coming.”

Caitlyn froze, the words cutting deeper than she expected. For a moment, she stared at Vi in disbelief. “You think… that’s what this is? A game?”

Vi shrugged nonchalantly, a careless flick of her hand. “Why not? Life’s a game, Cait. And I’m the one winning.”

The tension in the room hung thick, suffocating. Caitlyn’s chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, the words burst out of her.

“You don’t get it. I don’t want to play games. I want to do something meaningful. Something real. Not just—” She stopped herself, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to just be some joke, Vi.”

Vi’s expression faltered for the briefest moment. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with that familiar smugness. “Who said anything about being a joke? You’re the one acting like one, Cait. You’re so desperate to prove yourself, so obsessed with getting everything perfect, that you miss the point. You’re chasing something that doesn’t even exist.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. It felt like something inside her cracked. There was truth in Vi’s words, sharp and unrelenting. Was this what she had been missing all this time? The realization made her stomach churn. But at the same time, something inside her snapped back, a desire to never show weakness, to never admit Vi was right.

“I don’t care what people think,” Caitlyn replied coolly, pushing her chair back and standing. “I don’t need anyone to validate me. Not you, not anyone.”

Vi turned, locking eyes with her. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, her tone almost soft. “But by then, it might be too late.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Neither of them moved, the silence stretching between them until it was unbearable.

Finally, Caitlyn broke the silence. “This doesn’t end here, Vi. I don’t care what you say. I’ll win next time. I’ll prove I’m right.”

Vi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “I look forward to it. But don’t get too comfortable, Cait. I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night

Vi stood in her dorm room, her bag still thrown haphazardly across the bed, her coffee now long cold on the desk. She hadn’t even noticed she’d walked away from Caitlyn until she found herself in the stillness of her own room, the weight of the conversation settling in.

The adrenaline that had fueled her earlier outburst was beginning to wane, replaced by a deep, gnawing emptiness that she couldn’t shake. The sharpness of Caitlyn’s words still stung her chest, and the reality of what she’d said to her hit her in waves. It had been a defense mechanism, a way to keep Caitlyn at arm’s length. Vi had done this before—pushed people away with her bravado and quick words. But something about this confrontation, about Caitlyn’s vulnerability, felt different.

Vi ran a shaky hand through her hair, biting her lip as the weight of her own destruction settled over her. She had gone too far. She could feel it in her bones, the growing sense of guilt that gnawed at her. The words she’d said… they weren’t just part of the game. They were real. And they had hurt Caitlyn.

For all her bravado, Vi hated when things felt this way. She hated the crushing feeling of being out of control, of seeing the mess she’d made in the wake of her own sharp tongue. Her stomach twisted in knots as her mind replayed the scene. What had she been thinking? Sure, she could get under Caitlyn’s skin, could turn the tables on her academic perfectionism—but at what cost?

Her hands trembled as she sat on her bed, and for the first time in a long while, Vi couldn’t ignore the exhaustion in her body. She hadn’t slept properly in days, and it was starting to catch up to her. The mental strain of pushing herself too hard, of maintaining the wall she’d so carefully built, was starting to break through.

Vi closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to center herself. But the wave of dread refused to dissipate. She had hurt Caitlyn, and now she had to deal with the aftermath. Could she fix it? Was there even anything left to fix?

The truth was, Vi had always prided herself on never caring too much about anyone—about being untouchable, a force of nature that couldn’t be defeated. But in that moment with Caitlyn, when the facade cracked just enough to let some real feelings show, she knew she had made a mistake. A big one. And that realization stung more than any of Caitlyn’s accusations ever could.

————

Caitlyn was up before the sun again. Her desk was cluttered with open textbooks, study guides, and a half-finished cup of coffee that had long gone cold. She was determined to not just pass but dominate the upcoming criminal psychology test. Her brain was already starting to fry, but she pushed through, flipping through pages one after another, her mind racing with formulas, theories, and case studies. There was no room for distraction.

Vi, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. Caitlyn had noticed the odd hours Vi kept these days, the moments when she was around just enough to give a half-hearted comment or make a joke, but never sticking around for the study sessions Caitlyn had meticulously organized. Vi hadn’t even glanced at the study guide Caitlyn had printed out for them.

Caitlyn tried to ignore it. Vi always did things differently. While Caitlyn dedicated every waking hour to academic excellence, Vi seemed to effortlessly glide through, skipping the hard work, relying on her sharp instincts and charm to get by. It grated on Caitlyn’s nerves, but she couldn’t help but wonder: Did Vi even take the test seriously?

A couple of days before the exam, Caitlyn was holed up in the library, scribbling down notes in a frenzy, when she felt a presence in the corner of her mind. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Vi messing around as usual, but instead, she found her sitting at a table by herself, her phone in hand, a notebook open but mostly untouched.

“Don’t you have a test to study for?” Caitlyn couldn’t help herself. She had to ask, even though she knew the answer would probably irritate her.

Vi didn’t look up from her phone. “I’m fine,” she said casually, her voice unbothered. “It’s just a test, right? Who needs all that prep work?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, her teeth gritting together. “You’re seriously going to coast through this like you always do? You’re just going to show up and wing it?”

Vi’s lips curled up into a half-smile. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Not that it’s any of your business.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at Caitlyn with that familiar challenge in her gaze.

Caitlyn, trying to ignore the fire burning in her chest, forced herself to focus on her own notes. But a part of her couldn’t shake the anger building inside her. How could Vi be so nonchalant? Did she really think she could just show up and ace the test like that?

The night before the exam, Caitlyn stayed up late again, reviewing every last detail of her notes, trying to commit as much information to memory as possible. Exhaustion was creeping in, but she wasn’t going to let herself falter. She would get a perfect score. She would show Vi that hard work paid off.

What Caitlyn didn’t know was that while she was buried in her books, Vi had also been preparing for the test. But not in the same way. No, Vi wasn’t the type to sit down and pore over textbooks for hours on end. Instead, she had found a different way to study: the “cramming” method.

Vi stayed up well into the night, but rather than pouring over her textbooks, she hunched over her phone, skimming study guides and making flashcards with speed and efficiency. She wasn’t just memorizing the material; she was forcing herself to absorb the most critical points in a short amount of time. It was messy, a little frantic, but it worked. And by the time Caitlyn had long since fallen asleep, Vi was still up, snatching moments of sleep between frantic bursts of studying.

The next day, Caitlyn walked into the lecture hall early, the paper for the test clenched tightly in her hands. She felt a mix of dread and determination. She had studied for days, and this was the moment where everything would come together. Her mind raced as she took her seat, but there was still a nagging feeling in the back of her head that kept her from fully relaxing.

Vi showed up just as the test was about to begin, casually strolling into the room, hair still a little messy from a hasty morning routine. Her usual smirk was plastered on her face, the same self-assured expression that Caitlyn found both infuriating and, oddly, admirable.

Vi sat down beside her, leaning back in her chair, already half-distracted as she cracked her knuckles. Caitlyn couldn’t help but glance over at her, and for the first time, she noticed that Vi didn’t look as carefree as usual. There was something in her eyes that Caitlyn had never seen before—an edge of tension, almost like she was pretending to be more confident than she really felt.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, but before she could process it, the professor began handing out the tests. The room filled with the rustling of papers as everyone prepared.

The exam was a beast. There were case studies, legal theory questions, ethical dilemmas, and everything in between. Caitlyn’s mind was on fire as she worked through each section, carefully calculating every answer, ensuring she wasn’t missing any detail. She felt in her element, as if this test was a reflection of everything she had worked so hard for.

But when the test was over, and the results came in a week later, Caitlyn was stunned.

The scores were posted on the board, and Caitlyn’s eyes immediately searched for her name, running down the list until she found it. 96%.

Her heart dropped. Her perfect score had been just out of reach.

And right next to it was Vi’s name. 96%.

Caitlyn stared at the number, disbelief flooding her mind. She had worked tirelessly for this. She had sacrificed sleep, socializing, and relaxation. And Vi? Vi had barely cracked a book in front of her and somehow—somehow—had scored the same.

Her pulse quickened, her frustration boiling over. She didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. There was no way Vi could have studied the same way Caitlyn had. She hadn’t seen her do anything even remotely close to the effort Caitlyn had poured into it.

“Vi,” Caitlyn muttered under her breath, turning toward the girl sitting across from her in the lecture hall.

Vi didn’t even look at her. She was too busy lounging back in her chair, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as she casually flicked through her phone. “What’s up, Cait? You seem a little… upset.”

“You tied me,” Caitlyn said, her voice low and tense. “You didn’t study like I did. You didn’t put in the hours. So, how the hell did you manage to score the same?”

Vi’s smirk didn’t fade, but there was a quiet satisfaction in her gaze now. “You’re right. I didn’t study the way you did. But I don’t need to, Cait. I know how to handle pressure. I know how to adapt.”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched into fists under the desk. “You think this is just about handling pressure? You think this is all some kind of game?”

Vi leaned forward, her eyes narrowing just enough to show she wasn’t entirely carefree anymore. “I didn’t do it for the game. I did it because I can. That’s what bothers you, isn’t it? You work yourself to the bone and think you’re going to beat me, but you never account for the fact that I’m just as capable as you. Without all that stress.”

Caitlyn’s blood was boiling. She opened her mouth to snap back, but the professor began to speak, and the moment passed.

Vi had won again, but this time, it wasn’t just the score that stung. It was the realization that she might never be able to beat Vi—not the way she expected.

——

Caitlyn stared at the empty page in front of her, the blank lines mocking her. The words she needed to write for her latest paper just weren’t coming. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the test results. She hadn’t let it go. The score, the tie, the frustration—it gnawed at her every time she tried to focus. How was it that Vi, who barely seemed to try, could match her? She had worked so hard, sacrificing everything for the perfect grade, and now it felt like it hadn’t mattered at all.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but before she could type anything, her phone buzzed on the desk. Caitlyn picked it up, glancing at the screen. The contact name made her stomach twist.

Mom.

She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a few days. There had been messages back and forth, of course—reminders about school, subtle nudges about her future plans, gentle prods about how her grades were shaping up. Caitlyn’s mother, always on top of everything, had a way of making Caitlyn feel like nothing was ever enough.

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, her chest tightening. Caitlyn knew what was coming. Her mother’s expectations were always looming, always present. She had spent her entire life trying to meet them, striving to be perfect in every way, to be the ideal daughter. But lately, it had started to feel like too much.

Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn swiped the screen to answer.

“Hi, Mom,” Caitlyn said, forcing herself to sound casual, though her voice betrayed a hint of tension.

“Caitlyn,” her mother’s voice was sharp, but not unkind. “How are things going? Your last report card came in. I saw that you’re still keeping up with your grades, but you know I expect you to do more than just keep up.”

Caitlyn winced. She’d been dreading this.

“I’m doing fine, Mom,” she replied, her fingers nervously drumming on the desk. “I’m staying on top of everything.”

“Well, you should be more than just fine. You’re smart, Caitlyn. You could be at the top of your class if you applied yourself even more. Why settle for average? You know I want you to be the best. The best.”

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. Caitlyn bit her lip, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I’m trying, Mom. I’ve been studying a lot. I’m—” She cut herself off, feeling the familiar pressure of her mother’s expectations weigh on her chest. “I’m working hard.”

“You better be,” her mother said, her tone softening just a little. “You know, your father and I have always had high expectations for you, Caitlyn. It’s not just about grades—it’s about proving that you can handle the world out there. You’re going to be great, I know it. You just need to focus more. Show everyone that you can handle the pressure. We’ve talked about this before.”

“I know, Mom,” Caitlyn muttered, her eyes flickering to the wall where her college acceptance letter was framed. It felt like an endless cycle, this constant need to prove herself. “I’m doing my best.”

There was a pause on the other end, then a sigh. “You know, Caitlyn, I don’t want to hear excuses. You’re better than this. I’m just concerned you’re not pushing yourself hard enough. You have so much potential.”

The words hit her like a slap, and Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around the phone. She could feel the tears threatening to rise, but she refused to let them fall. She had to keep it together. She always did. Her mother would never understand if she didn’t.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Caitlyn said through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep doing my best. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Her mother didn’t respond immediately, but Caitlyn could hear the soft hum of disappointment in her silence. It made her feel small.

“I’ll call you later,” Caitlyn said, before she could think better of it. “I’ve got to finish some work.”

“Alright, Caitlyn. Just remember, you’ve got a lot of people counting on you. Don’t let them down.”

With that, the call ended, and Caitlyn was left staring at the screen. Her heart thudded in her chest as she set the phone down slowly. The weight of her mother’s words pressed down on her harder than ever before. She wasn’t just worried about the grades anymore. She was worried about not living up to the impossible standards her mother had set for her.

She glanced at her textbooks and notes, her mind foggy with exhaustion. No matter how much she studied, it felt like there was always more to be done. Always more to prove.

A knock on the door snapped her from her thoughts. Caitlyn didn’t move at first, but the door opened a crack, and a familiar voice called through.

“You okay in there?”

Vi’s voice. It was warm but with that ever-present hint of mischief, as if nothing ever weighed on her. Caitlyn felt a knot form in her stomach. Vi probably didn’t understand what it was like to have her every move scrutinized, her worth determined by how high she could climb. But in that moment, Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel bitter.

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn said, her voice cool. She didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. She didn’t want anyone seeing the cracks in her carefully constructed armor.

Vi pushed the door open a little wider, her eyes scanning Caitlyn’s desk. “Fine? You look like you just got hit by a truck.”

Caitlyn didn’t meet her gaze, focusing on the scattered notes in front of her. “I just… got off the phone with my mom.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, her usual smirk faltering just slightly. “Sounds like fun.”

“It’s never fun,” Caitlyn muttered. She felt a sting in her chest. “She just… expects more from me. All the time.”

Vi, to her surprise, didn’t joke. Instead, she crossed the room and leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms across her chest. “Your mom sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well… it’s not that simple.” Caitlyn sighed, running a hand through her hair. “She just wants me to be perfect. And it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

There was a beat of silence before Vi spoke again, quieter this time. “You’re enough. Even if you don’t think so. You don’t need to prove anything to her.”

Caitlyn looked up sharply, surprised by Vi’s words. Vi wasn’t the type to get all sentimental, but there was something in her tone that made Caitlyn pause. “What do you know about it? You don’t have parents pushing you like that.”

Vi’s eyes flickered for a moment, and Caitlyn caught the briefest shadow of something vulnerable in her gaze before it was gone, replaced by her usual teasing smirk. “Maybe not, but I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve got to prove something.”

Caitlyn didn’t know how to respond to that. The weight of her mother’s expectations, the pressure to succeed, it all felt like too much some days. She wanted to scream, to let it all out, but instead, she just nodded stiffly.

“I’m just… tired, Vi,” Caitlyn admitted quietly, more to herself than to Vi. “Tired of trying to keep up. Tired of pretending like I’ve got it all together.”

Vi said nothing for a long moment, then pushed herself off the doorframe. “You don’t need to pretend around me, Cait. You’re not alone in this.”

Caitlyn didn’t reply. Vi’s words lingered in the air as Caitlyn tried to process them. For the first time, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—Vi understood more than she let on.

But for now, Caitlyn turned her attention back to her books. She had a test to prepare for, after all. And tomorrow would be just another day of trying to meet impossible expectations.

————

Caitlyn sat at her desk, her back rigid and shoulders tense. Her eyes were glued to her laptop screen, but she couldn’t focus. Her mind was too occupied with the one thing she couldn’t shake—the grade.

The notification flashed in the corner of her screen.

Grade: 92.

Her heart skipped. 92.

Caitlyn stared at it, a sickening knot forming in her stomach. She had earned this. She had poured hours into this assignment, sacrificing sleep and socializing, because she had to. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—“Good enough is never enough, Caitlyn.” She had to be better than everyone else. She had to prove she was worth something.

But it wasn’t good enough.

A 92.

She clicked on the professor’s feedback, but the message was short. Too short. Her professor had barely acknowledged the effort she’d put into the work. Just a note about needing more depth in the analysis. More depth? The assignment had been flawless. Every point had been meticulously covered. And yet… she had still been docked.

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. The frustration boiled over. She stood up so suddenly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. The tightness in her chest made her skin feel like it was crawling.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. It was Vi.

“Got your grade back?” Vi’s voice was flat, her expression unreadable.

Caitlyn’s temper flared, and she could barely hold back the sharpness in her tone. “Yeah. A 92.”

Vi didn’t react at first, just stepping into the room with her arms crossed. Her eyes flickered to the screen, then to Caitlyn’s face. “Not happy about it?”

“No. Why would I be?” Caitlyn snapped, clenching her fists. “I busted my ass on this. I earned better than a 92. I didn’t even get a decent comment. Like everything I did—everything I always do—is just… not enough. But of course it’s fine for you.”

Vi’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caitlyn’s frustration surged, and before she could stop herself, the words exploded out. “You never even try. You don’t care about any of this. You just get by while I have to break my back to do everything right. You didn’t even study for this, didn’t put in the hours like I did. And still, you walk in here with a better grade than mine. I can’t keep doing this. I’m always going to be second to you.”

Vi stepped forward, her jaw clenched, her voice colder now. “You don’t know anything about me. You think you’re the only one under pressure? You think I don’t have my own shit to deal with?”

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered to Vi’s, but she didn’t back down. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You coast through everything. You get away with not giving a damn, and it all works out for you. No one cares if you screw up.”

Vi’s hands balled into fists, the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating. “You think I don’t care? You think I’m coasting? Do you even hear yourself? I don’t get to coast, Caitlyn. I don’t have that luxury. I’m not just here for fun and games like you. I’ve got someone depending on me, okay? Someone who needs me to succeed—not just for myself, but for them.”

Caitlyn froze, the words slamming into her chest like a fist. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Vi’s eyes were cold, a hard edge to her voice. “Powder. I have to get a job. I have to succeed. I have to do everything right because I’m the one who has to take care of her. I’m the one who has to make sure she has a future. If I fail, it’s not just me who pays for it. It’s her. So don’t you dare stand there and act like I don’t care about this.”

Caitlyn swallowed, her mind scrambling. She had never known the weight Vi carried, never understood how much was on her shoulders. But it didn’t change how she felt.

“I don’t care about your excuses,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice trembling with frustration. “You’re still walking around with everything handed to you. You don’t have to fight for anything. You just do whatever and it works out for you.”

Vi’s eyes flashed, a flicker of something dark behind them. “You think this is easy? You think any of this is easy? You think I’m just skating by while you work yourself into the ground? You have no fucking clue what I’m dealing with. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care. Don’t you dare.”

Caitlyn’s breath came in ragged bursts, her chest tightening. The weight of her own expectations felt unbearable, the pressure from her mother gnawing at her insides. “I’m not like you, Vi. I have to prove everything. Every single day. To my mom, to everyone. I have to be the best. I can’t just be good enough. I can’t.”

Vi’s voice was bitter. “So you think your pressure is worse than mine? You think your problems are bigger than mine?”

Caitlyn’s eyes burned. “I never said that. But I’m done being second to you. I’m done having everything come so easy for you. You don’t try, and you get what you want. And I can’t keep living in your shadow.”

For a long moment, Vi was silent, the space between them thick with tension. The rivalry, the competition—they had always been there. But now, the stakes were higher, sharper. Both of them were cracking under the weight of their expectations, their personal demons threatening to spill over.

Vi opened her mouth, then closed it. “You think you know everything about me, don’t you?” she said quietly, voice like ice. “You think I’m just a slacker who doesn’t care about anything. But maybe if you spent less time comparing me to you and actually listened for once, you might understand what it’s like to be me.”

Caitlyn’s eyes burned with unshed tears, but she didn’t back down. “Maybe you should stop trying to be perfect all the time, Vi. Stop pretending you’re not as messed up as the rest of us.”

Without another word, Vi turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Caitlyn stood there, breath coming in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was right. Vi had just laid everything bare—everything Caitlyn had never known. But it didn’t matter. The rivalry, the competition—it had only grown sharper, more personal, more painful.

And Caitlyn couldn’t escape it. Not now. Not ever.

————

Caitlyn hadn’t meant to go to the library, not really. But the pressure had been eating away at her since that fight with Vi. The way Vi had stormed out, the words still echoing in Caitlyn’s head, had left her shaken, her hands still trembling when she tried to turn off her laptop.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing—losing control, losing herself to the expectations, to this war with Vi that seemed to grow bigger every day. So she threw on her jacket, grabbed her books, and left the dorm without another word to anyone.

The library was quiet, but Caitlyn wasn’t looking for peace. She was looking for something to bury the frustration, the anger, the gnawing sense of inadequacy that clung to her every waking moment.

When she found an empty table, she sat down with a sigh, flicking through her notes absently. But she couldn’t focus. All she saw was Vi’s face from earlier—fierce, angry, unflinching. Vi’s words had cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

You have no fucking clue what I’m dealing with.

Caitlyn ran her hand through her hair, feeling the burn of exhaustion in her shoulders. The weight of her mother’s voice was still heavy in her head, the sting of her 92 from earlier still fresh. She was slipping, and it was all starting to feel like too much.

Then the door creaked open. Caitlyn’s gaze snapped to the sound, her breath catching in her throat. Vi stepped into the library, head down, arms crossed tightly against her chest, her expression unreadable. She didn’t see Caitlyn at first, but Caitlyn didn’t move, just watching her with a sense of inevitability.

Vi walked past her without a word, grabbing a nearby table, as far from Caitlyn as possible. But Caitlyn could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken animosity crackling between them.

It felt like hours before Vi finally broke the silence.

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Caitlyn stiffened at the sound of Vi’s voice, barely above a whisper, but cutting through the stillness like a knife.

“About what?” Caitlyn bit out, her jaw clenching as her fists tightened around her pen. She didn’t want to play this game anymore, but Vi’s words had a way of pushing her to the edge.

Vi turned slightly, not meeting Caitlyn’s eyes. “That you’re always looking down on me. Acting like I don’t try. Like I don’t care.” Her voice was low, almost defeated. “I told you—I’m not you, Caitlyn. You have everything lined up, don’t you? You think just because you study every damn hour of the day that you’re better than me.”

Caitlyn’s chest tightened. “You’re unbelievable, Vi. You think it’s just about studying? You think that’s what it all comes down to? It’s not just about grades, but about everything I have to do. Do you get it? I can’t fail. Not once. And I’m tired of you just breezing through everything like it’s nothing!”

Vi shot her a glance, her lips twisting. “I’m not breezing through anything. I’m just surviving, Caitlyn. You want to be perfect. You want everything to go exactly your way. But what if that’s not possible for everyone? What if some of us don’t get to be perfect?”

The words hit Caitlyn harder than she expected. She opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself, breath catching. Vi wasn’t wrong. Her voice, the raw edge to it, shook her. But she couldn’t admit that, not now. Not in the middle of everything she was fighting for.

“You’re just making excuses,” Caitlyn said tightly. “It’s always the same with you. I work harder. I study more. I sacrifice to get ahead. And you get everything handed to you.”

“Is that what you think?” Vi snapped, standing up so suddenly the chair scraped loudly against the floor. Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire library was holding its breath. “You think I don’t want to work harder? You think I’m just sitting here coasting by? You have no idea what it’s like to not have the choice.”

Caitlyn’s pulse quickened, her temper flaring again. “Then why do you even care about my grades? If it’s all just ‘surviving,’ then what does it matter to you what I do?”

Vi’s face twisted with frustration, her fists clenched at her sides. “Because I have to be better. I have to be better than you. Because I’m the one who has to get it right. For her.” Her voice cracked, barely audible, but Caitlyn heard it. “I can’t fail.”

The words landed like a slap, sending Caitlyn stumbling back, her breath catching in her throat. Vi never let people see that side of her, the part that wasn’t just bravado and anger. The vulnerability was almost too much to bear.

But Caitlyn couldn’t let herself be distracted. She couldn’t allow this moment of weakness to change anything.

“Well, maybe I’m just tired of being in your shadow,” Caitlyn muttered, more to herself than to Vi. “I’m tired of being second to you. I’m done.”

Vi’s face twisted with something fierce, something that made Caitlyn’s stomach churn. “You think you’re second to me?” Vi’s voice was low and cutting now, and Caitlyn could see the hurt in her eyes, the way the walls were coming down. “You’re the one who’s always been ahead. You’ve had every damn opportunity, every damn door open for you. But it’s not enough. You think I’m the one who has it easy, but I don’t get to stop. I can’t. I’m the one who has to keep fighting just to make sure Powder gets a future. I’m the one who’s carrying the weight.”

Caitlyn’s chest tightened painfully as the words sank in, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She couldn’t, not now. Not with everything that had been building between them.

Instead, she just stood there, silent, watching as Vi picked up her bag and stormed out of the library, her footsteps echoing in the empty space.

Caitlyn didn’t move for a long time. She just sat there, the weight of Vi’s words pressing down on her chest like a vice. There was no resolution, no catharsis. Just the unbearable pressure of what had been said, of what was unsaid, and of everything still hanging in the balance between them.