Onyx's POV
I was staring at the empty seat beside me while our professor lectured at the front of the room about database normalization and entity relationships as if they were the most thrilling concepts ever invented.
They were not.
Especially not when the seat beside me remained unoccupied.
It had been two days.
Two days since Jace had not shown up to the only unit he actually needed to attend. Two days since he had leaned back carelessly. Two days since he had made unnecessary comments under his breath just loud enough for me to hear.
No message. No call. Not even a sarcastic, three-word text.
We didn't argue. There was no conflict to justify this pattern of behavior.
My gaze drifted down to my personal phone lying beside my laptop, its black screen reflecting the fluorescent lights above. I kept expecting it to light up. To buzz. To flash his name across it like a sudden plot twist.
Nothing.
The professor dismissed the class. Chairs scraped. Conversations sparked to life around me.
My phone stayed silent.
It was strange.
My day had been... peaceful.
Too peaceful.
No complications. No interruptions. No smug grin leaning too close to my screen. No voice calling me "Boss" in that tone that made it sound like a challenge instead of a title.
It was quiet.
And it was annoying how much I noticed it.
* * *
An hour later, I was seated in the study corner, laptop open, focused on my Capstone documentation. Productivity was safer than thoughts.
Someone suddenly placed a laptop directly in front of me.
For a fraction of a second, I thought it was Jace because that's where he usually sits.
Finally.
I looked up.
"Hello, Onyx!" Melody said brightly.
Not Jace.
"Hi," I replied with a small, controlled smile.
It was her.
And apparently, she was the only disruption my quiet day was willing to offer.
"You don't have classes right now?" she asked.
"I still have a one-hour vacant period before my next class," I answered.
"Oh! But even during your free time, you're doing projects," she said, peering at my screen. "Everyone else is just hanging out, resting their minds from lectures. Don't you ever get tired?"
"No," I said simply. "I prefer being productive during my free time."
She pouted slightly, studying me like I was a new species.
"You're the serious type, aren't you?"
"Not entirely," I said, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I can be fun. Just... selectively. It depends on the topic." I glanced at her briefly before looking away. "Though there's a high chance you'd find my idea of fun painfully boring."
A pause.
Then, more quietly, "I suppose it just depends on who I'm talking to."
She tapped her chin dramatically. "Hmm... do you read about Astronomy? Like the universe? Galaxies, planets, aliens?"
My eyes lifted to hers immediately.
She froze mid-thought.
"Oh," she said slowly, pointing at me with triumph. "I hit something."
"I read about those topics," I said, clearing my throat as if I hadn't just been caught. "It makes me wonder if we're truly alone in the vast, unexplored parts of the universe."
Her entire face brightened.
"I watch videos about that too! What if there isn't just our universe? What if there are multiple universes with completely different laws of physics?"
I swallowed.
"Yes," I said, nodding perhaps a little too quickly. "That's exactly what I've been thinking."
I had never expected Melody to say that.
"At least we have something to talk about now!" she said with a delighted giggle. "Oh! By the way, I know you said you don't like sweets, but I made something yesterday. Can you try it?"
Before I could decline, she reached into her pink paper bag and pulled out a small container. She opened it carefully.
The scent reached me first.
Milk. Vanilla. Something warm and homemade.
"These are my version of graham balls coated with vanilla powder," she said. "Tell me if they're good?"
I picked one up and took a bite.
I paused.
"At first bite," I said carefully, "it's balanced. Not too sweet. Not bland. The texture isn't overly chewy. You measured it well."
She clapped both hands against her cheeks in dramatic delight.
"I'm so glad you like it! Next time I'll make planet-themed graham balls."
I blinked. "Planet-themed?"
"Yes! Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars. Chocolate rings for Saturn. Even crushed cookies for the asteroid belt. It'll be adorable."
"You could actually execute that concept?" I asked, despite myself.
"Of course I can," she said proudly. "You just have to eat them."
"I might just stare at them," I replied. "It would feel like I'm committing planetary genocide."
She stared at me for a second.
Then grinned.
"What? You think you're Galactus?"
I paused.
"You know Galactus?" I asked.
She gasped dramatically. "The Devourer of Worlds? The giant cosmic entity who eats planets to survive? Obviously."
I studied her.
"Technically," I said calmly, "he doesn't consume them out of malice. It's a cosmic necessity. He absorbs planetary energy to maintain balance."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You read beyond surface-level Marvel."
"I prefer accuracy," I said. "He's not a villain. He's more like a force of nature."
She crossed her arms playfully. "Fine. So if I make edible planets, you won't devour them?"
"I'll consider sparing them," I replied. "Unless you summon the Silver Surfer first."
Her eyes widened again.
"You're such a fan," she said, but it sounded impressed.
"Efficient knowledge acquisition," I corrected. "And you as well. I didn't expect you to know about it."
She laughed.
I smirked slightly and shook my head.
Maybe it wasn't so bad.
Having someone who understood that galaxies were more interesting than gossip.
"Anyway, what are you working on?" she asked.
"Capstone project," I replied.
"I heard about that!" Her eyes widened. "That's the one that determines if you graduate, right?"
"It's not dramatic," I said. "Just submit everything on time."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"Are you planning to ask me to make yours someday?" I asked lightly.
"I want to do mine myself," she said quickly. "I want to feel like I accomplished something. But if I have questions... I might message you. Even if you're not studying here anymore."
"That's good," I said. "Be responsible."
She hesitated.
"So... why do you do that? The academic helping thing? If you don't mind me asking."
"It's fine," I said. "I'm saving money. Helping my father."
Her expression softened instantly.
"You're really responsible, Onyx. You inspire me."
I let out a short chuckle. "I didn't know I could inspire anyone."
"Because you're disciplined," she said. "I like that kind of guy— I mean, that kind of mentality."
I raised a brow slightly.
"I just want a good job after this," I said. "So you should do your best too."
"I will!" she said brightly.
Then her smile faltered slightly. She leaned back.
"Tell me if I'm bothering you. I'll leave."
I exhaled.
"No," I said. "It's fine."
She smiled.
"Oh, by the way," Melody said, as if remembering something mildly scandalous, "do you remember last time when my friend asked for your name? I'm really sorry about that. They were teasing me because they noticed you were looking at me."
I blinked.
Was I?
"It's all right," I said evenly.
She waved her hand dismissively. "We just left because the guy in front of you looked like he was about to punch all of us in the face."
I almost laughed.
"Ah. That guy," I said, chuckling under my breath.
"I think his name is Jace, right?" she asked.
I looked at her properly this time. "You know him?"
She nodded. "Everyone in my class knows him. Especially the girls. They like how cool and rough he looks because of his tattoos, buzz cut hair, and his aura. It's the whole mysterious, dangerous aesthetic."
I kept my expression neutral.
"But not me," she added quickly. "I prefer neat guys. Someone who looks disciplined. Calm. Put together."
Her eyes flickered to me for half a second too long.
"You'll find one soon," I said.
"Oh, I will," she replied confidently. "And I'll do whatever it takes to win him."
She glanced down at the container of graham balls in front of us, smiling to herself as if she had already written the script of her future.
Then she looked up at me suddenly.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend? With your looks and your brain, you could get one immediately."
"It's not my priority," I said.
She nodded slowly, studying me like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
"When do you plan on getting married?" she asked.
"Maybe at thirty-eight," I answered casually.
"Thirty-eight?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror.
"Yes," I said calmly. "Why?"
"Isn't that too late?"
"I don't think so," I replied. "Is there a rule about the acceptable age for marriage?"
"No," she said, frowning thoughtfully. "But thirty-eight sounds... late. At least make it thirty."
"It depends," I said.
"On what?"
I did not elaborate.
She leaned forward slightly.
"Have you found someone already? Someone you think you'll marry someday?"
"Not yet," I answered.
Her smile widened.
"Why?" I asked.
"Nothing!" she said quickly, then giggled like she had just nearly revealed classified information.
Before I could analyze that further, my personal phone buzzed that's resting beside my laptop.
The sound was sharp. Precise. Unmistakable.
Both of us looked down at it at the same time.
"One moment," I said, trying to keep my tone normal. "I'll just check my phone."
"No worries," she replied.
I turned the screen toward me.
Jace:
. . .
Sent: 10:43 a.m.
I stared at it.
Three dots.
That was it.
No context. No follow-up.
Just an ellipsis.
For the first time in two days, he finally messaged me—
and this was what he chose to say.
"Is it something bad?" Melody asked gently. "You are frowning."
"Everything is fine," I replied.
It was not fine.
I typed quickly.
Me:
What does your "..." mean, Jace?
And why haven't you messaged
me in a while? Are you okay?
Sent: 10:44 a.m.
Delivered.
No reply.
I frowned at the screen.
"What is wrong with you?" I muttered under my breath.
"With me?" Melody asked immediately.
I looked up. "No. Sorry. Don't mind it."
She nodded, though her curiosity was obvious.
I exhaled slowly, staring at the message again.
Those three dots, it felt intentional.
Like he had started to say something. Changed his mind. Or worse—decided I should be the one to decipher it.
I lifted my gaze subtly and scanned the study area.
Was he here?
Somewhere behind? Near the glass wall? Leaning against a pillar with that unreadable expression?
Watching?
The thought made my pulse shift slightly.
I did not see him.
"Onyx, I have to go," Melody said suddenly. "My next class is starting."
My attention snapped back to her.
"Sure," I said.
"You can finish the graham balls," she added, nudging the container toward me. "Even though you don't like sweets. At least get some sugar into your system so you feel alive."
"I feel alive," I said dryly.
She laughed.
"I'm going now. See you around!"
She stood up and waved brightly.
"Bye," I said, offering a faint smile.
She walked away, her footsteps fading into the usual campus noise.
And just like that—
it was quiet again.
I looked down at my phone.
The screen still displayed the three dots.
Mocking me.
"What do you want now?" I murmured under my breath.
No answer came.
Only silence.
* * *
It was almost seven in the evening when I reached home.
The sky had already darkened into that deep indigo shade. I slipped off my shoes by the door, bending down to line them neatly on the rack out of habit—
—and that was when I heard it.
Pa was laughing.
Not the polite, neighbor-passing-by laugh.
Not the sitcom-on-TV laugh.
A real laugh.
Warm. Loud. Unrestrained.
I froze with one shoe still in my hand.
Laughing?
That was strange.
We did not usually have visitors on weekdays. Weekdays were for quiet dinners, for news playing softly in the background, for me pretending I was not tired and Pa pretending he was not worried.
"Did he bring his colleagues here?" I muttered under my breath as I placed my shoes properly on the rack.
I straightened my uniform automatically. Smoothed out the creases. Fixed my hair using with my fingers.
Even if I had just come home from university, I did not like looking careless in front of guests.
Control the presentation.
Always.
I reached for the door and pushed it open.
"Oh! Onyx! Just in time. We were waiting for you," Pa said cheerfully, sitting cross-legged on the carpet near the low table.
We.
The word echoed in my head long after it was spoken. My gaze drifted from Pa, still smiling, still mid-conversation—and then it stopped.
Jace.
He was seated comfortably across from him, as if he had slipped into that space without resistance, without hesitation.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled just enough to expose his inked forearms, casual but deliberate, one arm resting loosely over his knee while he leaned back with an ease that unsettled me more than it should have.
He looked relaxed. Settled. Not like a guest trying to be polite. He looked like he had always been there—like the space across from Pa had been reserved for him long before I ever opened that door. Like he belonged.
For a brief, irrational second, I wondered if I was hallucinating from focusing too much on studies.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, and I did not bother hiding the edge in my voice.
Jace looked up at me slowly.
He did not startle.
He did not look guilty.
He did not even look inconvenienced.
He simply met my eyes with calm, steady composure.
"Good evening," he said first, as though basic manners were more important than explaining his existence in my living room.
My irritation sharpened.
"You did not answer my messages or calls for two days," I said. "And now you are just—here?"
Pa blinked between us, clearly confused and intrigued by whatever silent war was unfolding.
"He came this afternoon," Pa said casually. "Said he had something to discuss about your project."
I turned back to Jace.
He did not break eye contact.
"I did," he said evenly.
That was it.
No apology.
No elaboration.
No urgency.
Just certainty.
My jaw tightened. "You could not say that you are coming here through text?"
His lips curved—just slightly.
Almost invisible.
"I was busy," he replied.
"Busy doing what?" I asked.
"Things."
Two days of silence.
A single message that was just three dots.
And now he was sitting in my house like he owned the floor.
Pa commented again as he nodded. "He even helped me fix the loose cabinet hinge in the kitchen. Very capable boy."
I stared at Jace.
He did not deny it.
He did not boast either.
He just held my gaze with that same composed expression.
Unbothered.
Confident.
As if my confusion was the most natural reaction in the world.
As if he had calculated it.
"You are late," he added calmly.
Late?
The word hit somewhere unexpected.
My right eye twitched.
It was not anger.
It was not relief.
It was—
Something else.
Something that unsettled me more than either of those would have.
"What are you playing at?" I asked quietly.
His eyes flickered—just once—before settling back on me.
"Nothing," he said and shrugged it off.
And somehow, that answer felt more dangerous than if he had admitted to something.
I stood there for a second too long, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become. Even the air felt tense. Like it was watching.
Pa cleared his throat lightly. "Well, come inside. We do not want flies coming in and ruining our peaceful evening."
Peaceful.
That was debatable.
I stepped fully into the house and shut the door behind me.
Jace's gaze never left mine.
"Wash up," he said mildly. "We are going to eat dinner."
It was not a reminder.
It was not a suggestion.
It was not even phrased as a request.
It was a command.
Controlled.
Casual.
And that was when it clicked.
He was not acting like a guest.
He was acting like someone who had already made a decision.
Like someone who had already claimed a position.
And the unsettling part? It felt like I was the only one who didn't know what that was.
End of Chapter 19