Chapter 96: The Calm Version of Her
The walk from the parking lot to the main building felt shorter than it really was. Maybe because we weren’t in a hurry. Maybe because her hand was looped around my arm, holding tight the way she always did when she was in a good mood.
Students spilled around us in every direction. Laughter. Footsteps. A couple of people rushing toward the library with their coffees like their lives depended on it. The campus was alive again after the quiet weekend, the Monday buzz crawling in through every corner.
And yet, with her beside me, it didn’t feel overwhelming. Just... background noise.
She was humming something I didn’t recognize. Probably one of those songs she picked up on TikTok and played on loop until it drilled into my brain without permission. I didn’t ask. I just let it fill the air between us.
By the time we stepped into the lecture hall, most seats were already taken. The usual clusters of friends sat in their corners—same groups, same energy, like nothing had changed. Our spot, though, was untouched. It always was. People knew better. Or maybe they just knew it was hers.
Same groups, same energy, like nothing had changed. Except something bad.
I felt it the second we walked in.
Marina was already there.
Or at least, she entered just a few steps behind us, her bag slung casually over her shoulder. Her hair was tied back, neat but not overly done, like she wanted to look put together but not too much. Her eyes swept the room, and for the briefest second, they flicked toward us. Toward me.
Then toward Val.
She didn’t stop. Didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. She just moved on, quiet, walking straight to her usual seat near the window.
The tension hit harder than I expected. Heavy but silent, like the air itself shifted. Nobody else seemed to notice, but I did. And if I knew Val, she noticed too. She always did. She just didn’t say anything this time.
I slid into my chair beside Celestia, my bag at my feet, trying to act like nothing had happened.
Still, my eyes drifted back—just once—toward Marina.
She was already pulling out her notebook. Head bent. Earbuds in. A wall built fast and firm.
I turned away before I got caught staring but Celestia’s eyes were already on me.
She tilted her head, the corner of her hair brushing my arm. "What?" she whispered, her eyes narrowing playfully, like she was already ready to call me out.
I hesitated.
And then she smiled. Small but sure. "I’m fine," she said, beating me to it. Her voice was light, a little teasing, but steady. "I promised I wouldn’t let anything get to me."
The knot in my chest eased, just a little.
I let out a slow breath and reached up without thinking, brushing a strand of her hair back from her face.
Her eyes widened. Then her cheeks flushed a shade of pink I wasn’t used to seeing in public.
"You’re getting bolder by the day, husband," she murmured, her lips twitching as if she couldn’t decide between smirking or hiding her face in her hands.
I shrugged, trying to play it off even though my pulse picked up. "It’s called life. "
She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
Then she leaned in just a little, enough that I could feel the warmth of her shoulder brushing mine. "If you keep looking like that..." she trailed off, her voice lowering, "all sad and tragic, like the hero in some overdramatic movie poster... I’ll bring up my birthday."
My head snapped toward her instantly. "Don’t."
Her grin turned wicked. "Then stop sulking."
"I’m not sulking," I muttered, though it sounded weaker than I wanted it to.
"You are." She tapped her pen against my notebook like she was keeping score. "Sulky husband, one point. Loving wife, infinity points."
I stared at her. "That’s not how points work."
"It is when I’m keeping track," she replied easily.
I rubbed my forehead, groaning softly. "You’re exhausting."
"And yet you still love me." She winked. "Tragic, really."
I fought back a laugh, shaking my head. "You’re insufferable."
"But cute," she added quickly, batting her lashes dramatically.
"More like chaotic."
> "Chaotic and cute."
I gave up. "Fine."
She beamed like she’d won a prize.
She never let me stay in my head too long. She’d drag me out with jokes, teasing, little jabs that left no room for me to sink too deep.
And it worked. It always worked.
"Anyway," she said after a pause, twirling her pen idly between her fingers, "you didn’t answer me."
"Answer what?"
She tilted her head again, mock-innocent. "What you’re gonna do if I do bring up my birthday."
I groaned again, slouching in my seat. "I’ll run away."
She gasped dramatically, hand over her chest. "Abandoning your wife on her special day? How cruel."
I stared at her, trying to keep a straight face, but she saw right through me, her grin widening.
"You’re impossible," I muttered.
"And you love me," she sang back softly, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I leaned closer, my voice low. "You can’t keep using that as your argument."
"Yes I can," she whispered, smug. "Because it’s true."
Before I could reply, the scrape of the door cut through the air.
Professor Halifax walked in, arms full of folders and a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t left his hand since last semester. His glasses slid down his nose as he dropped everything onto the desk with a thud.
The chatter in the room dimmed instantly, like someone had hit mute.
"Good morning," Halifax said, adjusting his glasses, his voice dry but sharp enough to slice through the silence.
Celestia leaned close one last time before sitting upright, her whisper brushing against my ear.
"Cheer up, fortress," she teased softly, her smile lingering. "We’ve got this."
---
And we did.
Throughout the rest of the day, there was no tension, no argument, no sharp edges waiting to cut through the peace. Just classes, notes, and the rhythm of campus life. Almost normal.
Don’t get me wrong—I do feel bad for Marina. She’d been my best friend for years, and now she sat a few rows away like we were strangers. I noticed the way she kept her head down, the way she left the room before anyone else. It stung. But Celestia’s my girlfriend. She’s the one beside me now. She’s the one I have to put first. That’s just how it is.
When the last lecture wrapped up, the shuffle of bags and notebooks filled the hall. Celestia was already packed, sliding her notes neatly into her bag while I stood and stretched. I glanced at her—still calm, still collected, still keeping that promise she’d made this morning.
And then—
Avery.
She was suddenly there, walking right over, heels clicking sharp against the floor. She stopped in front of us, a little too close to me, though technically still giving Celestia her space. Her voice was light, but the way she held herself said she’d planned this.
} "Hi."
Celestia looked up slowly from her seat. Her tone carried no warmth. "Oh. It’s you."
The kind of "you" that made it sound like she’d found a bug on the table.
Avery crossed her arms, forcing a smile. "Yeah. It’s me."
I cleared my throat, stepping slightly between them before the air could turn heavy. "We were just about to leave. Maybe we could... do this some other time?"
Her eyes flicked to me, then back to Celestia. "That’s not fair," she muttered. "I came here to—"
"To what?" Celestia asked calmly, cutting in. Not sharp, not biting, just calm. Which almost made it scarier.
"To talk." Avery’s chin lifted, though her voice faltered just slightly. "I don’t want to keep being enemies. I thought maybe—"
Celestia’s lips curved into the faintest smile. Not kind. Not cruel. Just knowing. "Okay."
Avery blinked. "Okay? That’s... all?"
Celestia shut her bag with a soft snap and rose to her feet, meeting Avery’s eyes head-on. "What else do you want me to say?"
The silence stretched just long enough to make Avery shift her weight from one foot to the other.
I stepped in again, gently. "Look, Avery, we’ve had a long day. Maybe another time, okay?"
Her lips pressed together. She glanced at me once more, then at Celestia, who hadn’t looked away for even a second. Finally, Avery let out a breath and nodded. "Fine. Another time."
She turned on her heel and walked off, her hair swinging behind her like she needed the movement to cover her retreat.
Celestia watched her go, then shrugged lightly and looped her arm through mine. "Let’s go, husband."
---
The car was quiet at first. Celestia hummed under her breath, scrolling through her phone while I started the engine. The parking lot was half-empty now, the late afternoon light stretching long across the pavement.
Finally, I glanced at her. "What just happened back there?"
She looked up, smirk tugging at her lips. "What?"
"You. Not biting her head off."
Her smirk grew. "I can be civilized, you know."
I arched a brow. "Since when?"
"Since always." She flipped her hair, mock-offended. "You just prefer me feisty."
I snorted. "Prefer? No. Survive? Maybe."
She laughed, a soft, genuine sound, and leaned back in her seat. "See? I can play nice."
I gave her a look. "That was you playing nice?"
"Mm-hm." She winked. "Didn’t even call her names. That’s progress."
I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at my mouth. She was impossible. And maybe that was exactly what I needed.
The engine rumbled as I pulled us out of the lot. The sun was dipping lower now, painting the sky in warm streaks.
And as we drove, I thought about it—Marina, Avery, all the things waiting to crash into us sooner or later.
But then I glanced at Celestia, grinning to herself like she’d already won some secret battle.
Maybe the world could wait a little.
---
To be continued...