The Tuesday morning air felt colder without the hum of Jade's heater or the low vibration of his car engine. Layla stood at the bus stop, her breath curling in the air, watching the spot in the driveway where Jade's car usually sat. He hadn't texted. He hadn't honked. He was actually following her rules.
Why did he take it so personally? she wondered, a flicker of annoyance sparking in her chest. She had been angry, yes, and she had told them to leave her alone, but a part of her expected Jade to fight back, to be his usual, stubborn self. The silence was louder than the argument.
At school, the contrast was even sharper. Liam caught up to her before her first lecture, his nose bandaged and his lip a dark shade of purple.
"Layla, wait," he said, reaching for her arm before thinking better of it and pulling back. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for the park. I shouldn't have let him get to me. Can we talk? Just for five minutes?"
"Not today, Liam," Layla said, her voice flat. She kept walking. Liam was trying to talk his way back into her good graces, but Jade's absence felt like a much heavier statement.
The highlight of the week arrived in the form of a small, rectangular envelope. When Layla opened it in the breakroom of Tim Hortons, the sight of the check made her throat tighten.
$400.00.
It wasn't a fortune, but it was hers. It was hours of standing on her feet, memorizing codes, and dealing with grumpy morning commuters. It was the first real brick in the bridge she was building to Thailand.
When she got home, she found her mother in the kitchen. Without a word, Layla slid the check onto the counter. Her mother picked it up, her eyes scanning the numbers. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face, the kind of smile she usually reserved for academic achievements.
"Four hundred," her mother whispered. She looked up at Layla, and for the first time, she didn't see a child she needed to protect. She saw a partner. "I am very proud of you, Layla. This is how it starts. You hold onto this feeling. This is what independence looks like."
Layla nodded, feeling a swell of pride. For a moment, the drama with the boys faded into the background. She was a nineteen-year-old in a new city, making her own way. She felt untouchable.
That feeling was tested at lunch the next day. Sarah finally cornered her at a small table near the back of the cafeteria. The silence between them had become a wall, and Sarah looked like she was ready to tear it down.
"Layla, we need to talk," Sarah began, her voice trembling with that familiar, tragic edge. "I know you're mad, but I was only trying to protect you. Jade is…"
"Stop," Layla interrupted, setting her apple down with a sharp thud. "Stop saying you were protecting me, Sarah. You weren't protecting me. You were protecting your memories."
Sarah flinched as if she'd been slapped. "That's not true. I care about you."
"Then why didn't you tell me the truth on day one?" Layla leaned forward, her voice a low, steady hiss. "You waited until I had feelings for him to drop the 'warning.' You stayed quiet while I was confused, and then you used your history as emotional blackmail. You didn't want to keep me safe; you wanted to keep him for yourself, even if you couldn't have him."
"He was my first love, Layla!" Sarah cried, tears finally spilling over. "How was I supposed to react to my best friend falling in love with him?"
"I like him, Sarah. I didn't say I loved him," Layla corrected her sharply. "But Jade is no longer yours. He hasn't been yours for years. Calling me your 'best friend' while you manipulate me isn't friendship—it's control. If you had been honest from the start, I would have stayed away out of respect. But you played a game instead. And I'm tired of being a piece on your board."
Layla stood up, leaving Sarah crying into her napkins. The guilt she expected to feel didn't come. Instead, she felt a strange, cold clarity. She was done with riddles.
By the time she walked up the driveway that evening, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. She saw a figure leaning against her front door, a familiar silhouette in a leather jacket.
Jade.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes scanning her face. He didn't have his usual smirk. He looked tired, but his gaze was locked onto hers.
"Your mum just drove off," he said, his voice husky in the quiet evening air. He pushed off the doorframe, taking a half-step toward her. "Missed her by a few minutes."
Layla didn't say a word. She didn't ask where he'd been, and she didn't ask if he'd fixed his mess with Liam. She didn't care about the rules she had set forty-eight hours ago. All the anger, the pride, and the $400 worth of independence melted away the second she looked at him.
She stepped into his space, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him down.
The kiss was sudden and desperate, a collision of all the things they hadn't said during the days of silence. Jade didn't hesitate; his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her nearly off her feet as he returned the kiss with a ferocity that made Layla's head spin.
It wasn't a "neighborly" greeting. It was an answer.
Before the neighbors could see, before the logic could return to her brain, Layla fumbled for her keys, never breaking the kiss for more than a second, as Jade helped her open the door quicker. They stumbled through the front door, the click of the lock echoing through the empty, darkened house.