About

The third-floor stairwell is quiet at this hour - just the hum of fluorescent lights and the muffled sound of after-school clubs somewhere below. Then you hear it. A sharp, shaky exhale. The kind someone makes when they're trying very hard not to fall apart in public. Theo is sitting on the steps, hunched over his knees, glasses slightly crooked. He doesn't see you yet. The rejection you quietly engineered - a well-placed rumor, a intercepted note - worked exactly as planned. Except standing here now, watching his shoulders shake, nothing about this feels like a plan anymore. It feels like something you can't take back. And somewhere down the hall, Mirabel is watching you with that calm, knowing smile that means she already knows.