Onyx's POV
"How would you know if you are in love?" I asked.
The question slipped out before I could retrieve it.
Melody blinked rapidly, and I watched the color rise to her cheeks—pink deepening into something dangerously close to red.
"Oh," she breathed, almost choking on air. "That caught me off guard." Her hand pressed lightly against her chest as if steadying herself. "Are you in love with someone?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "That's why I'm asking. I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is romantic love, unconditional love, or just... platonic attachment. I thought maybe you could explain the difference."
She smiled—soft, shy, and quietly radiant.
"Thank you, Onyx," she said.
"For what?"
She exhaled slowly, like she had been holding something in for days.
"Okay," she said, straightening. "Let me explain it properly. Because I honestly think you have no idea."
"I don't," I said. "Not even slightly. I don't know how to identify it, much less respond to it."
"Don't worry," she said, then suddenly giggled. "I'll help you so you don't get confused."
"Is something funny?" I asked.
"You are," she said, laughing softly. "You're incredibly smart—but when it comes to this, it's like you lose all sense of direction." She tilted her head, smiling as she looked at me. "It's... kind of cute."
"Being clueless about this is not cute," I muttered.
"Sorry, sorry," she said quickly, still smiling. "I won't tease you."
She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning more deliberate.
"Okay, listen carefully, Onyx. Platonic love is when you care about someone deeply, but there's no desire to cross into anything physical or romantic. You want them to be happy. You enjoy being around them. You miss them when they're gone—but there's no urge to claim them or be claimed."
"I see..." I uttered, nodding slowly.
Was that what I was feeling? Platonic love? Maybe.
She tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Romantic love is different. It's when that care becomes... personal. You don't just want them to be happy—you want to be the reason. You start imagining things. Holding their hand. Leaning closer. Maybe even kissing them. You feel nervous around them. You notice everything—how they speak, how they move, how they react. It's not just comfort anymore. There's tension too."
I swallowed. She mentioned holding their hand—so could it be romantic? The thought slipped in quietly, but it refused to leave. Was that what this was? Or was I just attaching meaning to something small again? The more I tried to sort it out, the more tangled it became. I was not getting clarity. I was getting confused.
Then her tone softened.
"Unconditional love is the deepest one. It's when you choose someone even when it's inconvenient. Even when it hurts. Even when they're not at their best. It's steady. It doesn't depend on mood, distance, or pride. And it's not always romantic—it can be family, friends... even someone you can't have. It just... stays."
I do see Jace as part of my family now. That much is certain. But if that's the case, then is this just unconditional care? Loyalty? Habit? Or is it something else entirely? If it isn't friendship, and it isn't obligation... then what is it really, out of the three?
She watched me carefully.
"The real question isn't what you feel," she said. "It's what you're willing to risk for that person. Why do you want to know? Is it bothering you? Is it disrupting your system?"
I nodded too quickly.
She laughed again.
"Please stop laughing," I said. "This is serious. If I don't understand what I'm feeling, I might act foolish. I don't want to hurt someone."
Her expression softened.
"Okay," she said gently. "Tell me everything."
I took a breath.
"Let's say I have a friend."
"All right," she said, already smiling.
"At first, I didn't want to build any connection. Just something casual. Temporary. I assumed we would eventually part ways, so maintaining distance felt... efficient." I paused. "But now... I see this person every day. And somehow, their presence has become... necessary. My day feels incomplete if they don't show up."
Melody covered her mouth to hide another giggle.
"Melody," I warned.
"Sorry," she said quickly, though her eyes were still bright. "I'm just... happy." She leaned forward. "That's already something important, Onyx. If your day feels incomplete without them, that means they've imprinted themselves into your life. Do you feel happy when you're with this person?"
"I feel... many things," I admitted. "Happy. Annoyed. Frustrated. Comforted. Confused. Sometimes all at once."
"But do you care deeply about this friend?" she asked.
I looked out at the sea.
The horizon was calm. Too calm.
"I think I do," I said slowly. Then I corrected myself. "No. I know I do."
"For now, let's call it a strong platonic bond."
"All right," I said. "Guide me."
She straightened, like she had officially taken on a role.
"Let's start simple," she said. "Do you want to kiss this friend?"
My eyes widened immediately.
"No," I said quickly. "Not... not there yet."
She laughed softly.
"Okay. Let's tone it down. Do you want to hold your friend's hand?"
I glanced at my right hand without thinking.
I remembered the nights when Jace's fingers brushed against mine. The accidental touches. The not-so-accidental pauses. The moment I almost reached back—and didn't.
"Yes," I admitted quietly. "I wanted to try."
"Good," she said. "Next level—when you imagine holding hands, do you want to intertwine your fingers?" She extended her hand. "Give me yours."
I hesitated, then placed my hand in hers. She laced her fingers through mine.
"Like this?" I asked.
Our hands fit together.
"Your hand is cold," I observed.
"Yours is warm," she replied.
I looked down at our intertwined fingers.
This was supposed to be a harmless demonstration.
Just an experiment.
Just data.
"Sorry to interrupt your lovely moment—your food has arrived."
The voice came from my right, sudden and close.
For a split second, my chest tightened—the tone, the timing, the faint confidence in the cadence sending my pulse into a sharp, irrational spike.
I turned too quickly, it was just the staff—a man holding two plates, smiling politely as if he hadn't interrupted anything significant. We pulled our hands apart immediately.
"Oh! No!" Melody said quickly, waving both hands. "We are not lovers!"
The staff laughed lightly. "Really? I thought you were. You look like a great couple."
"Not yet," Melody said playfully. "He is still inexperienced when it comes to love. It will not happen anytime soon."
The staff placed our plates down carefully.
"You should not let her get away," he said to me, nudging me lightly. "She is very pretty."
"Ah... yes," I said, unsure what else to offer.
"And you are a very handsome young man," he continued. "If the two of you ever get married, your children would be beautiful."
Melody burst into giggles.
"Please do not rush him," she said. "His brain might overheat. He is brilliant academically, but completely clueless about love."
The staff laughed as well as I scratched the back of my head.
"Enjoy your lovely meal," the staff said before leaving.
"Thank you!" Melody replied brightly.
As soon as the staff walked away, Melody inhaled deeply.
"Mmm! It smells so good!" she said.
"It does," I replied.
The plates were arranged neatly in front of us. The sea shimmered beyond the glass. Seagulls glided lazily over the water.
I stared at the horizon again.
I should bring Jace here.
Maybe as an apology.
Or compensation.
Or just to relax, probably.
"What are you thinking about?" Melody asked.
"I was just thinking," I said carefully, "I might invite my friend here one day."
"I will be waiting," she replied.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Nothing!" she said quickly. "Let's continue. We stopped at hand-holding, right?"
"Yes," I said. "You held my hand."
"Okay," she said, leaning slightly forward. "Did you feel anything when I held it?"
I considered the question seriously.
"I felt that your palm was soft," I answered honestly. "And cold. Also slightly sweaty."
Her eyes widened.
"Oh! Sorry!" she said, wiping her hand lightly against her dress. "Maybe I was nervous."
"It is fine," I said with a small nod. "That is normal."
And yet—
Even as I spoke calmly—
I knew.
Whatever I had felt just now...
Was not the same thing I felt on those nights when Jace's fingers brushed against mine in the dark.
"I just remembered," she said, tilting her head slightly as if she had unlocked the final level of a game. "You told me love isn't your priority. That you wanted to focus on your academics first. Graduate. Get a job. Build your life."
The way she recited my own words back to me felt like reading a policy I had once drafted and confidently signed.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I did say that. But the problem is... this so-called love is ruining my priorities. I just want to know if I'm actually in love so I can plan for it."
"Planning love?" she asked, then laughed.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, trying to maintain composure. Her amusement felt illegal considering my internal crisis.
"Yes. Planning," I repeated, attempting to sound rational. "If this is something real, I need to adjust my priorities accordingly."
She leaned back slightly, still smiling, but her tone softened. "All right. Let's rewind. The point is, you just want to know if what you feel is romantic love."
I nodded once.
"Right now," she continued gently, studying my face as if she were measuring how much truth I could handle, "you're somewhere in between. Not exactly just friends anymore... but not something fully defined either. You called it a leveled-up platonic friendship. But the moment you said you wanted to hold your friend's hand..." She tilted her head slightly. "That doesn't stay purely platonic."
My throat tightened.
It sounded significantly worse when someone else summarized it.
"That means," she added carefully, "you're starting to grow feelings."
"Okay..." I muttered.
"So you're not at the kissing stage yet?"
"No," I said immediately. "God forbid. I've never thought about it that way. I don't think I could. I just— I can't."
Even as I said it, my brain betrayed me.
Just the thought of it—
No.
Absolutely not.
Me and Jace—
I mentally slammed the door on that image before it could even form. Hand holding is enough, but lip touching? I am not at that point yet.
She watched me with an expression that suggested she was taking academic notes on my denial.
"So," she went on, unfazed, "let's say you're just starting. First level: hand-holding. That's your baseline."
Baseline.
As if this were a lab experiment.
"Next," she said, leaning forward slightly, lowering her voice like this was classified information. "Do you think about that friend before you go to sleep? And after you wake up?"
I frowned. "Why does that matter?"
"Because," she said patiently, "they say the last person you think about before you fall asleep, and the first person who comes to mind when you wake up, is someone who has a special place in your heart."
Her words lingered.
Special place.
I swallowed.
Have I been thinking about Jace before I sleep?
Have I been thinking about him the moment I wake up?
My silence must have been suspiciously long because she raised one brow.
"Hypothetically," I said carefully, choosing my words like I was disarming a bomb, "let's say I do think about my friend. Now what?"
"Then," she replied smoothly, "that friend isn't just a friend anymore. That's a special friend."
Special friend.
That phrase alone was destabilizing.
"Next level," she continued, relentless. "When that friend isn't around you— do you look for them? Do you feel lonely?"
I inhaled slowly.
"When my friend isn't around," I said, choosing honesty over pride, "it annoys me. It's frustrating. I keep thinking about it. That's the best way I can describe it."
She nodded, as if that was the confirmation she'd been waiting for.
"That means their absence is louder than their presence," she said. "It means you want to be with each other all the time."
For a split second, a memory flashed in my head— Jace asking me something similar not too long ago.
Had I really been that blind?
Or had I just been pretending not to see?
"And I just need to ask this," she said, her tone suddenly more serious. "This is crucial."
I braced myself.
"Do you want to go on a date with your friend?"
The word landed heavily.
"Date..." I echoed, staring down at my food as if it held the answer to my emotional crisis.
"This determines whether it's more than platonic," she explained.
A memory surfaced immediately.
Jace's phone call last night—when he said his "date" had been cancelled, which I'm almost certain was the place we were supposed to go together. And me... asking him if we could go on a date.
I just need to know—did I make it worse by asking him to go on a date with me? Especially when I don't even know if it qualifies as a date. I only used that word because he did. I didn't think about what it actually meant until after it was already out there.
"Wait," I said quickly. "When you call it a 'Date', does it have to be romantic? Like candlelight dinners, music, flowers, that kind of thing?"
She snorted. "No, silly. A date can be anything. A walk in the park. Coffee. Just the two of you."
I hesitated.
"How about..." I swallowed. "Going to a planetary museum for kids. Would that count?"
She blinked once.
Then smiled.
"Yes. That absolutely counts. Especially if you both share the same interest. And it's just the two of you. Think of it as bonding— but leveled up. Making plans specifically for each other. Even if you're adults and still want to go there together. That's something."
The planetary museum.
Just the two of us.
I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled.
Why was this more overwhelming than any unit requirement I had ever handled?
"Okay," I said slowly. "I want to go on a date with my friend. At the planetary museum."
She giggled like she had just unlocked premium gossip content.
"When?" she asked.
"I was planning tomorrow. Sunday. We should both be free." I paused. "I hope."
"For sure," she said confidently.
"But my friend hasn't confirmed yet," I added. "I need to ask again."
"Your friend will say yes," she said without hesitation. "Just ask."
Then she looked at me, eyes soft but certain.
"But in conclusion," she added gently, "I think you're already in love, Onyx."
The words settled over me like a verdict.
"I might be," I admitted quietly. "But it isn't supposed to happen."
"Why not?"
I hesitated.
Because you won't understand.
Because it's complicated.
Because it's Jace.
"I mean..." I shook my head slightly. "You wouldn't get it."
She sighed.
"Maybe you just need more time," she said. "You're like a toddler learning what love is. It's blurry right now. But eventually, you'll figure it out."
I let out a frustrated breath.
"This is exactly why I didn't want this," I muttered. "It's annoying. And now I have to endure it or my brain will explode."
She laughed.
"Okay, let's change the topic before you combust in public."
"Yeah," I said, finally allowing a small chuckle to escape. "That would be better."
But even as we shifted the conversation, my mind remained elsewhere.
Planetary museum.
Jace, just the two of us.
And for the first time, the word "date" no longer sounded theoretical.
It sounded dangerously possible.
* * *
"Ahh! The food tasted really good!" Melody said, leaning back in her chair with full satisfaction.
I glanced at my phone out of habit. "We still have thirty minutes left," I said.
"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully. "Do you want to eat dessert?"
I shook my head immediately. "Sorry. You know I don't like sweets that much." I gestured lightly toward the menu. "But if you want, go ahead. You can order."
"I actually want ice cream," she said, scanning the restaurant as if a hidden freezer might magically appear. Then she pouted. "But they don't serve any."
"Since we still have time," she continued, already formulating a plan, "we can walk outside and buy there. It'll help us digest the food. Sounds good?"
"Okay," I said. "No problem."
We paid the bill— I insisted on covering my share despite her protests that she wanted to treat me.
We stepped out into the open air, the breeze from the sea brushing against my face. Couples strolled along the shore. Children ran past us. Somewhere, waves folded gently onto sand.
We walked along the seaside path, scanning for any stall that sold ice cream. Melody's energy had fully transitioned into Craving Mode.
"There!" she exclaimed suddenly, pointing toward a small stall tucked just around the corner.
We both quickened our steps.
"Finally!" she said dramatically. "I thought no one sells ice cream in this area."
A bright sign hung above the stall.
Frozen Handmade Ice Cream Rolls.
"This one sells rolled ice cream!" she said excitedly. "It should be good! I might not finish it, so we can share?"
"Okay," I said calmly.
We approached the counter.
No one was there.
No staff. No movement. Just equipment and silence.
"Maybe they're on break?" Melody said, peering behind the counter. "Why is no one around?"
I scanned the area. No uniformed staff nearby. No footsteps. Nothing.
That was when I noticed it.
A small silver bell resting quietly at the edge of the counter.
"Oh," I said. "This might work."
(Ring!)
The sound cut cleanly through the quiet, echoing faintly against metal and glass.
"Coming!" a voice called from somewhere behind the equipment.
My spine went rigid.
That voice.
No—it couldn't be.
"Finally!" Melody said, stepping forward slightly.
"What can I get..." the staff member began casually, emerging from behind the stainless-steel counter, adjusting his cap, "...for you—"
He stopped.
So did I.
For a moment, time did not slow—it faltered, as if something in its sequence had misaligned.
My throat tightened before I could stop it.
"Jace?"
The name left me without permission—uncontrolled, unplanned, real.
He lowered his hands slowly, his gaze locking onto mine first before shifting to Melody, then returning to me again. This time, it lingered—longer than necessary, sharper than it should have been.
The air changed.
I felt it before I understood it.
Melody stood in front of him, unaware. I stood beside her. And suddenly, the space between the three of us felt wrong—like we had stepped into a moment that was never meant to be seen from this angle.
Jace didn't speak. He didn't move.
But something in his expression shifted—subtle enough to be missed by anyone not paying attention.
I was.
Always.
His jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly. His fingers curled slightly at his side, as if holding back something he had not yet decided to act on.
And for the first time since I had known him, he did not look composed.
He looked... restrained.
The breeze from the sea slipped between us, colder than before.
No one spoke—not Melody, not me, not Jace.
But the silence wasn't empty.
It was heavy.
Crowded.
Filled with everything neither of us had said.
And for the first time—I understood what Melody meant by "risk."
He just looked at us—like he was seeing something he didn't want to understand.
End of Chapter 30