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If anyone had asked Caitlyn Kiramman how her day began, she would have said, “Excellent.”

Because everything in Caitlyn’s life was always Excellent.
Her grades: Excellent.
Her schedule: Excellent.
Her wardrobe: crisp, color-coordinated, Excellent.

Then Violet Lanes walked into her life — quite literally — and splashed coffee across her cream cashmere blazer.

It happened on a Wednesday morning, because disasters love the middle of the week.

Caitlyn had just stepped out of her finance lecture, heels clicking, phone pressed to her ear, scolding someone from her family’s foundation about missing a quarterly report. She was mid-sentence, something about “basic competence” — when a blur of pink hair and oversized denim came barreling down the hallway.

“Move! Hot liquid, no brakes!”

Then — collision.

Caitlyn froze, looking down in horror as dark coffee bled through her perfect cream outfit.

The pink-haired menace blinked up at her, mortified for half a second before grinning.

“Wow. You look like a latte. Fancy.”

Caitlyn’s mouth fell open. “You— You just—!”

“Yeah, I did.” The girl laughed, grabbing a napkin from her tote and dabbing uselessly at Caitlyn’s sleeve. “Sorry, Princess. I was late for class. You were kind of in the splash zone.”

“I— Princess?”

“Yeah. You got the face for it. All ‘I own three yachts’ energy.”

Caitlyn huffed, straightening her coat with regal precision. “For your information, I only have one yacht. And I don’t take jokes from people who can’t hold a cup.”

That made the girl laugh even harder. “You’re fun. I’m Vi, by the way. Short for Violet.”

Caitlyn should have walked away.

Instead, she found herself saying, “Caitlyn. Short for none of your business.”

Vi’s grin only widened. “Cool. We should grab a drink sometime—one that I promise not to spill on you.”

They did grab that drink.

And another.

And another.

Six months later, Caitlyn still couldn’t explain how the girl who wore combat boots and chaos like perfume ended up being her favorite part of every day.

Vi was trouble.

Loud, unfiltered, late to everything.

But she made Caitlyn laugh until her sides hurt.

She made her forget that life had to be controlled to be perfect.

They went out, traveled a little, stayed up too late watching bad movies.

They kissed in Vi’s beat-up car. They fought. They made up. They hook up.

But whenever someone asked who Vi was, Caitlyn would smile too tightly and say: “Oh, she’s a… friend.”

The first few times, Vi laughed it off.

By the twentieth time, it stopped being funny.

Then it happened at a dinner party.

Caitlyn’s classmates were present, all finance majors, expensive wine, the kind of music that whispered “old money.”

Vi didn’t fit in, not that she cared. She leaned back in her chair, tattoos showing, sipping beer like it was defiance. Caitlyn admired her for it — until someone asked, with polite curiosity, “And you are?”

Before Caitlyn could think, the reflex came out: “She’s a friend.”

Vi’s smile faltered. Just slightly, but Caitlyn saw it.

The rest of the night, Vi was quieter. No jokes. No spark. Just polite silence.

Later, outside, under the yellow streetlight, Vi finally said it. “You ever gonna stop calling me that?”

Caitlyn crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

“‘Friend.’” Vi let out a laugh, dry and sharp. “Six months, Cait. Six. You’ve met my friends, you’ve stayed over, we’ve done—well, a lot more than friends do. But every time someone looks at you, you flinch like I’m gonna ruin your image.”

“That’s not true—”

“It is. You care more about what people think than what I feel.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “You’re being unfair. We never said this was—anything official.”

“Yeah,” Vi said softly. “That’s the problem.”

They stood there, neither of them moving. The night buzzed with crickets and the faint hum of city lights.

Caitlyn finally said, “Maybe we should… take a step back.”

Vi looked at her, eyes tired but kind. “You mean break up.”

“We were never together.”

“Right.” Vi smiled without humor. “Guess that makes this easy, then.”

Vi started walking away.

Caitlyn wanted to call out, to say wait, but her pride stitched her lips shut.

When Vi reached the end of the street, she turned around, walking backward now, grin lopsided.

“Hey, cupcake,” she called. “If anyone asks who I was, just tell them I was your accident.”

Caitlyn Kiramman’s apartment looked like heartbreak sponsored by Dior.

The curtains were drawn tight, shutting out the city skyline she usually adored. Half-finished glasses of wine dotted the coffee table, a small graveyard of coping attempts. Somewhere between the sound of rain and the low hum of her designer air purifier, Lana Del Rey crooned softly through the speakers, as if narrating her downfall.

Caitlyn sat in the center of her oversized bed — still in silk pajamas, hair in a messy bun that cost effort to look effortless. Her laptop was open to her finance notes, though she hadn’t read a single line. Her focus was elsewhere.

On her phone.

On her.

Violet Lanes — new story

Her thumb hovered for a long, miserable second before tapping.

There she was. Vi.

Sweaty, radiant, alive.

In a boxing gym, throwing punches like she was exorcising Caitlyn’s ghost.

The caption read: “Keep swinging.”

Caitlyn nearly fell back onto her pillows.

“Keep swinging?” she repeated aloud, scandalized. “What is this? Motivational propaganda?”

Her phone buzzed. Another notification. Another story.

Vi this time in a mirror selfie — tank top, hair pulled up lazily, flexing just enough to make a statement that Vi could bench press Caitlyn and her immaculate trust fund altogether.

“Day two: feeling better already 😉”

Caitlyn made an undignified noise — part groan, part scream. She tossed her phone aside, where it bounced harmlessly off her imported duvet.

She had spent the last twenty-four hours oscillating between heartbreak, denial, and the occasional urge to drive to Vi’s apartment just to ask if she was actually fine or pretending to be fine (like a normal, emotionally unstable person).

Instead, Caitlyn did what she did best: she suffered aesthetically.

By the third day of her mourning era, Caitlyn Kiramman had turned her penthouse suite into a mausoleum of heartbreak. The blinds were still drawn. The air smelled faintly of Jo Malone candles and despair. A playlist titled “Songs for When Your Peasant Girlfriend Leaves You” looped endlessly through the penthouse speakers — Adele, Lana Del Rey, and one tragic Olivia Rodrigo track that Caitlyn refused to admit made her cry. My Heart Will Go On Extended Movie Version was currently blasting through her speakers as we speak.

She lay in bed like a fallen queen, hair in a silk bonnet, phone clutched in one hand as she scrolled through Violet’s Instagram stories. Every post was a fresh stab to the heart — Vi at the gym, glistening with sweat; Vi laughing with her friends; Vi, in one photo, flexing her arm. Caitlyn zoomed in with the precision of a sniper.

“She’s doing this on purpose,” Caitlyn muttered to herself. “She knows I’ll see this.”

Her phone vibrated — a message from Mel.

“We’re coming over. Get up.”

Caitlyn groaned dramatically, pulling the duvet over her head. But twenty minutes later, Mel and Jayce arrived, letting themselves in with the spare key.

Jayce froze at the sight of Caitlyn — a disheveled goddess surrounded by tissues, wine glasses, and a half-eaten pint of Häagen-Dazs.

“Wow,” he said, smirking. “Looks like a crime scene.”

Mel, ever composed, set down a paper bag from Caitlyn’s favorite café. “Get up, Kiramman. You look pathetic.”

“I am pathetic,” Caitlyn said from beneath the covers. “I’ve been dumped by someone who technically wasn’t even my girlfriend.”

Jayce sat at the edge of the bed, grinning. “Wait— you’re mourning a breakup from someone you weren’t officially with?”

“She was my person, Jayce!” Caitlyn snapped, sitting up and clutching her blanket like a cloak. “We just didn’t have a label. Labels are for the weak, I’m a Kiramman, I’m not weak.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Right. And that’s probably why she dumped you. Because apparently ‘friend’ is your preferred term for the girl you make out with every single day.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth, then closed it. “…that’s not fair.”

Jayce chuckled. “Actually, it’s very fair.”

Caitlyn flipped them both off. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”

“We are,” Mel said, sipping her iced latte. “We’re on the side that wants you to stop wallowing like a Regency widow.”

Jayce stood up, clapping his hands. “Alright, here’s the plan. You’re showering, dressing up, and we’re taking you out tonight. Preferably somewhere public, somewhere Violet might see you being hot and unbothered.”

That last part made Caitlyn pause. “…you think she’d see?”

Mel smirked. “Oh, she’ll see. I think Vi’s too curious not to check. You just need to look like you’ve moved on.”

And that’s when the idea started to take form — like a perfectly crafted, emotionally destructive spreadsheet.

By the time she arrived at class the next morning, Caitlyn was reborn. Hair blown out, lips glossed, posture immaculate. She took her usual seat, ready to resume her totally fine, thriving life.

That’s when Maddie Nolen — petite, ginger, annoyingly cheerful — leaned over from the next row. “Hey, Cait! Haven’t seen you around lately. You wanna grab coffee after class?”

Normally, Caitlyn would’ve dismissed Maddie with a polite smile and an excuse about “meetings with her portfolio manager.” But today… she hesitated.

Maddie was cute. The kind of cute that would definitely irritate Vi.

Caitlyn smiled sweetly. “You know what, Maddie? I’d love that.”

And thus began Operation Jealousy.

Within a week, Caitlyn was seen around campus laughing with Maddie, touching her arm, sharing pastries, doing everything short of skywriting: I’M TOTALLY OVER YOU, VIOLET LANES. Every photo Maddie posted — Caitlyn made sure she looked radiant. Every story tagged — she reposted.

But the problem was… Violet didn’t care.

Instead of moping or stalking, Vi went full transformation arc — hair dyed black, new piercings, and an entirely new personality that screamed “hot gym rat with emotional damage.” Her stories were all in dark lighting, heavy music, and glimpses of her midriff.

Caitlyn watched every single one. Obsessively.

“Why is she getting hotter?” Caitlyn muttered one night, hurling a pillow across her room. “I’m supposed to be winning!”

From the couch, Mel didn’t even look up from her magazine. “Because, darling, heartbreak looks good on people who don’t have generational wealth to cushion it.”

Caitlyn groaned and fell back dramatically onto her bed. “I hate that she doesn’t care.”

Jayce grinned. “You mean, you hate that you still do.”

Caitlyn glared at him. “…shut up.”

But deep down, she knew he was right.

Even if she’d never admit it — not to Mel, not to Jayce, and definitely not to Violet — Caitlyn Kiramman was still hopelessly, pathetically in love.

And she was absolutely not going to be the one to say sorry first.

In twenty-one years of Caitlyn’s glamorous life, she had been adored, envied, admired, even politely tolerated — but never ignored. Especially not by someone she had once, maybe, possibly, accidentally loved.

Which is why the sight of Violet Lanes walking into the university cafeteria that Friday hit Caitlyn like divine punishment.

It had been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of pretending she was fine while secretly stalking Vi’s every move online. And now, the woman herself appeared — real, in the flesh, hotter than any Instagram filter could capture.

But something was different.

Caitlyn almost dropped her matcha latte.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, frozen mid-sip. “She’s really gone… emo.”

Across the table, Maddie the tiny, ginger, and blissfully unaware of the social warfare unfolding — perked up. “Who?”

Caitlyn cleared her throat, composed herself. “No one important.”

But it was too late. Her entire being had locked onto Vi like a guided missile.

Violet was laughing with her friends, relaxed, radiant, completely unbothered. No trace of heartbreak, no sign of devastation. Just pure, cruel serenity.

Caitlyn adjusted her posture, suddenly self-conscious. “So anyway,” she said, louder than necessary, “my father just bought another townhouse in Piltover Hills. I told him it was so unnecessary, but you know how fathers are—”

Maddie blinked. “Oh, wow. That’s… um, cool?”

Caitlyn laughed a little too hard. “It’s so ridiculous, right? Anyway, I’ve been meaning to donate some of my designer stuff soon. I just— oh!” She leaned forward, pretending to laugh at something Maddie said that wasn’t remotely funny. “You’re so funny, Maddie!”

It was a performance. And her audience wasn’t even watching.

Vi didn’t even glance her way. Not once.

Caitlyn’s laughter faltered. Her heart burned with indignation. How dare she not look?

For years, Caitlyn mastered the art of commanding attention — with her elegance, her voice, her presence. Even professors paused when she raised her hand. But Violet? Vi, the chaotic marketing student who spilled coffee on her and stole her peace of mind, was sitting three tables away and treating her like air.

Caitlyn wanted to scream.

Instead, she leaned toward Maddie, voice raised just enough to echo. “Honestly, I don’t even think about her anymore. Like, at all. Totally over it. She’s probably crying somewhere, regretting everything.”

Across the cafeteria, Vi leaned back in her chair, cracking open a soda can with her teeth.

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. She’s doing this on purpose.

“Cait, are you okay?” Maddie asked gently.

“Perfectly fine!” Caitlyn said, laughing in a way that sounded like a malfunctioning wind chime. “Never been better. Thriving, even. I love my life.”

But her eyes betrayed her — locked again on Vi, who was now rolling up her sleeves. The tattoos peeked out, her muscles flexing as she gestured animatedly. The lighting in the cafeteria seemed to favor her, golden and cinematic. Caitlyn could almost hear slow-motion background music.

It was humiliating.

“God, she’s so—” Caitlyn stopped herself just in time. “—unhygienic. Look at her drinking from the can like that. Ew germs.”

Maddie followed her gaze. “Oh, that’s Vi, right? The one you used to—”

“We never dated!” Caitlyn snapped. “We were just… we just like to be next together. Yes, that's it..”

“Right,” Maddie said, wide-eyed. “Totally.”

Caitlyn forced a smile, realizing her voice had carried a little too far. She looked up — and locked eyes with Vi for exactly half a second.

Half a second. That’s all it took.

Caitlyn froze. Her stomach did an unholy somersault.

Then Vi looked away — back to her friends — like Caitlyn had been nothing more than a passing shadow.

And just like that, Caitlyn, heir of the Kiramman legacy, honor student, and self-proclaimed queen of emotional control… was ruined.

She tried to play it off. She flipped her hair, adjusted her pearl earrings, smiled too brightly at Maddie. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”

Maddie hesitated. “…interest rates?”

“Right. Interest rates.” Caitlyn stabbed her salad like it owed her money. “Fascinating topic.”

Meanwhile, Vi stood to leave — tossing her hoodie over her shoulder. As she passed by Caitlyn’s table, their proximity sent Caitlyn’s pulse racing. She braced herself for a glance, a smirk, a flicker of acknowledgment.

Nothing.

Violet walked right past her. Not even a nod.

Caitlyn’s fork slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “She’s actually ignoring me.”

Maddie blinked. “Who is?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, flipping her hair with faux grace. “No one. Just… karma.”

But the moment Vi disappeared out of sight, Caitlyn turned her phone toward her and muttered, “You win this round, Lanes.”

And in that instant, Caitlyn swore war — the silent, glamorous, emotionally unstable kind.

Because if Violet Lanes wanted to pretend, she didn’t care, Caitlyn was going to make damn sure she regretted it.

-

It was Friday night, and Vi was sprawled on Mylo and Claggor’s sunken couch with a cheap beer, surrounded by her chosen idiots.

Mylo was halfway through his third bottle, feet on the coffee table like a king of poor decisions. Claggor sat cross-legged on the floor eating cold fries from a takeout box. Ekko, the youngest and most judgmental, was scrolling through his phone with the intensity of a therapist diagnosing everyone in the room.

And Powder—Vi’s baby sister—was perched on the armrest beside her, swinging her legs, already two sodas deep and absolutely unfiltered.

“I swear to god,” Powder started, waving her phone, “if I see Caitlyn Kirhhemenn post one more aesthetic black-and-white photo of her in silk pajamas, I’m gonna blow her up.”

The room fell silent.

Then Mylo burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “You're gonna get us arrested for real, Powder!”

“I meant like, metaphorically!” she protested, waving her hands. “Like, blow her up online! Not—boom-boom! I’m not a terrorist!”

Ekko snorted. “Bro, she posts like she’s auditioning for a perfume commercial called Lonely But Rich.”

Claggor chimed in. “Healing ✨. Finding myself 🦋. Missing no one 🖤. Girl, you posted that with a $150 smoothie.”

Vi took a long sip of her beer, grinning. “Yeah, she’s trying so hard to look unbothered, it’s hilarious.”

“Does it bother you, though?” Mylo asked. “I mean, she’s out there flaunting some ginger chick—what’s her name, Oompa -something like, all over campus.”

Vi smirked. “Bother me? Nah. I think it’s cute.”

Powder gasped dramatically. “Cute?! She’s using her like a prop, Vi! That’s so evil! I love it.”

“Exactly,” Vi said, raising her bottle. “Cait’s doing all this performative nonsense to get a reaction out of me, and I’m not giving it to her.”

Ekko leaned forward. “You did dye your hair black and start posting gym thirst traps, though.”

Vi shrugged, deadpan. “Self-improvement isn’t a crime.”

Mylo pointed at her with a fry. “It’s petty cardio and you know it.”

The group howled.

Vi just grinned wider, stretching out on the couch, her boots resting on a stack of unpaid bills. “Let her think she’s winning. Let her post her matcha and fake giggles with Maddie. I know she’s checking my stories every night before bed. I know it.”

Powder’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “You should post something insane. Like you holding hands with a random girl, just to make her spiral.”

Vi cackled. “You want to see her combust?”

“Yes,” Powder said, deadly serious. “Spiritually.”

Ekko was scrolling through Caitlyn’s latest story and turned his phone around. “Look at this one. Caption says ‘Some people can’t handle a real woman.’”

The room exploded.

Mylo clutched his stomach. “Oh my god, she’s subtweeting you on Instagram!”

“Wait—no, no—look at the tag,” Claggor added, zooming in. “She tagged Maddie. BRO.”

Powder shrieked like a banshee. “Oh she’s asking for war.”

Vi just sat there, smirking, arms crossed. “She wants me to bite. But nah. Not until she says sorry first.”

Ekko rolled his eyes. “You and your pride.”

“Pride’s free,” Vi said. “Unlike Caitlyn’s therapy bills.”

Mylo raised his beer. “To that!”

Everyone clinked bottles and cans, cheering.

Powder leaned against Vi’s shoulder. “So what’s the plan, boss? You just gonna ignore her forever?”

Vi took another swig and grinned. “Yup. She can post all she wants. I’ll just keep getting hotter.”

Powder giggled. “Mission successful, by the way.”

“Thanks, kid.” Vi ruffled her hair.

Mylo leaned back. “So no texting her? No random 2 AM drunk calls?”

“Nope.”

“Not even to rub it in?”

“Tempting,” Vi said, smirking. “But no. She wants attention, she can earn it. I’m not feeding the algorithm of heartbreak.”

Ekko raised a brow. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Vi said, chuckling. “But it sounds smart.”

Powder sighed dreamily. “If Caitlyn sees you in person looking like this, she’s gonna pass out.”

“Oh she did see me already,” Vi said, stretching her arms with a wicked grin. “Her reaction is hilarious.”

The room roared with laughter again.

Somewhere in that tiny, messy apartment, surrounded by her loud friends and cheap beer and secondhand furniture, Violet felt fine. Better than fine.

Because while Caitlyn Kiramman was out there posting her heartbreak in 4K, Vi was living hers in real time — ugly, loud, unbothered, and absolutely winning.

And she wouldn’t say it out loud, but yeah… she missed the rich girl.

Just a little.

But Caitlyn Kiramman could be the first to text.

The party was loud.

Not high-society loud—like her parents’ fundraisers—but college loud.

Bass shaking the walls. Beer smell in the curtains. Someone already crying in the bathroom and it wasn’t even 11 p.m.

Caitlyn stood awkwardly in the middle of it all, clutching a red Solo cup like it was a designer clutch.

She looked out of place, because she was—too polished, too poised, wearing a purple silk top that absolutely did not belong anywhere near spilled beer or sticky floors. Maddie, her new “date” (read: Vi-jealousy experiment), was clinging to her arm, laughing too loudly at something Jayce said.

Across the table, Mel leaned on Viktor’s shoulder, both watching the chaos unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“See?” Jayce said, slapping Caitlyn’s back. “You’re out! You’re socializing! This is healing!”

“I feel like I’m being punished,” Caitlyn muttered, taking a sip of something that tasted like regret and nail polish remover.

Mel smirked. “You look like you’re trying to network your way out of hell.”

“I don’t belong here,” Caitlyn said flatly.

“Yes, you do,” Maddie cooed, brushing a hand over Caitlyn’s arm. “You’re with me.”

Caitlyn forced a smile, pretending her skin didn’t crawl. She liked Maddie fine—but not that way. She just liked the idea of Vi seeing her with someone else. Vi, the walking embodiment of chaos. Vi, who had stormed out of Caitlyn’s life after one stupid argument about “labels” and “feelings.” Vi, who—

“Yo! Vi’s here!” someone shouted from the kitchen.

Caitlyn froze mid-sip.

Her head turned slowly—like she was in a horror movie and the monster had finally entered frame.

Vi was hot.

Like, unfairly hot.

She wore a white button-up half open under a leather jacket that screamed bad decisions incoming. Her jeans looked so tight it should be illegal. A chain glinted at her neck. And the worst part? She didn’t even seem to be trying.

She walked in with Mylo, Claggor, Ekko, and Powder—the entire Lanes disaster ensemble. Mylo immediately yelled something about free beer. Powder made a beeline for the playlist. Vi just looked around with that lazy smirk like she owned the place.

And then Caitlyn realized she was staring.

Mel elbowed her. “You look like you just saw your GPA drop.”

“I’m not looking,” Caitlyn hissed.

“Uh-huh,” Mel said. “Your eyes are literally burning holes in her jacket.”

Vi spotted them from across the room. Her gaze flicked over Caitlyn once—one second, maybe two—and then she looked away like she didn’t even care. Like Caitlyn was just another random girl at the party.

It felt like being slapped with indifference.

And speaking of indifference, Powder who was now at the booth starts to play I Forgot That You Existed by Taylor Swift

Caitlyn’s chest tightened. She immediately grabbed Maddie’s arm and laughed way too loudly. “Oh my god, you’re hilarious, Maddie!”

Maddie blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Caitlyn said, turning her head just enough so Vi could see her pretending to have the time of her life.

Vi, across the room, was chatting with Ekko, bottle in hand, posture relaxed.

She didn’t look once.

Not once.

Which made Caitlyn’s blood boil.

Mel, now fully entertained, leaned toward Jayce. “She’s spiraling.”

Jayce nodded solemnly. “It’s like watching a luxury car crash in slow motion.”

Caitlyn ignored them. She had to make Vi look.

She laughed louder, tossed her hair, even touched Maddie’s shoulder in a fake flirty way that felt as unnatural as a spreadsheet in a mosh pit.

Still, Vi didn’t react.

Caitlyn could see her laughing at something Mylo said, her dimples showing, that same stupid glint in her eye. And the more Vi didn’t care, the more Caitlyn wanted to scream.

Maddie leaned close. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” Caitlyn said through gritted teeth. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m having so much fun!”

Then the DJ (Powder, naturally) shouted, “This one’s for all the heartbroken losers!” and blasted Mr. Brightside Hayley Kiyoko’s version.

Caitlyn’s smile twitched.

Mel started laughing. “Okay, that’s cosmic punishment.”

Jayce chimed in, “Maybe this is your sign to—”

“Don’t,” Caitlyn snapped.

But when she glanced up again, Vi was watching her now. Leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, an amused tilt to her mouth. Like she knew.

Caitlyn froze.

Then Vi raised her bottle in a mock toast.

And winked.

Caitlyn’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you think this is funny?” she muttered, furious, slamming back the rest of her drink. Maddie blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Caitlyn said, cheeks hot. “I just—hate this song.”

But her heart was pounding too fast, her head too loud.

Because Vi wasn’t supposed to win.

Later that night, Caitlyn ended up on the porch with Mel and Jayce, staring out at the string lights flickering over the yard. Vi was inside somewhere, probably making everyone laugh.

Mel handed Caitlyn a cup of water. “You gonna survive, Cait?”

Caitlyn groaned, face in her hands. “She looked so smug.”

“Because she is smug,” Mel said. “And you’re feeding her like a feral cat.”

Jayce sipped his beer. “Maybe just… tell her you miss her?”

Caitlyn shot him a death glare. “I’d rather die.”

“Then die pretty,” Mel said, patting her back. “Because she’s here.”

Caitlyn froze.

Mel didn’t even look fazed—just kept sipping her drink like she’d dropped a weather update instead of a bomb. Jayce, however, choked on his beer.

“What do you mean—she’s here?” Caitlyn whispered, lowering her cup like it might explode.

Mel nodded toward the porch steps. “Turn around, princess.”

Caitlyn did.

And there she was.

Vi, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. Her black hair caught the faint glow of the string lights, her skin golden and soft under the cheap bulbs. She looked annoyingly effortless—like she didn’t even try, and the universe still conspired to make her look that good.

Caitlyn’s heart did something stupid. Something traitorous.

Vi raised a brow. “Didn’t think I’d find you hiding out here, cupcake.”

Caitlyn stiffened. “I’m not hiding.”

Mel made a quiet hm noise that screamed, you definitely are.

Vi walked closer, each step slow, deliberate, the gravel crunching under her boots. “Sure looks like it.”

Jayce, sensing a brewing explosion (or maybe just wanting to live), stood up quickly. “Well! That’s my cue to, uh, check on Viktor. Mel, you coming?”

Mel looked at Caitlyn, then Vi, then smirked. “Nope. I’m staying for the show.”

“Mel.” Caitlyn’s voice was a warning.

“Fine, fine,” Mel said, standing with exaggerated reluctance. “Try not to strangle each other—or kiss. Actually, scratch that, maybe do both. Balance it out.”

And with that, she left.

Leaving Caitlyn alone on the porch with the one person she’d been trying very hard not to think about.

The silence between them was unbearable.

Not awkward, not cold—just… loud.

Caitlyn crossed her arms, pretending she didn’t notice Vi’s eyes lingering. “Didn’t think this was your scene.”

Vi shrugged, stepping closer until they were just a breath apart. “Didn’t think it was yours either. But here you are, playing beer pong with finance bros.”

“I wasn’t—” Caitlyn stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Were you watching me?”

Vi’s grin widened. “You made it hard not to.”

Caitlyn’s brain short-circuited for a millisecond. “You’re a menace”

“Probably.” Vi tilted her head, amused. “You having fun pretending Maddie’s your girlfriend?”

Caitlyn blinked. “She’s not—”

“Sure.” Vi smirked. “Totally believable. You looked real into it.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. “You have no right to judge.”

“Who’s judging?” Vi said lightly. “I think it’s cute. You playing like a loving, doting, girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t playing—”

“Caitlyn,” Vi interrupted, voice softening just enough to sting, “you were practically narrating your own heartbreak in high definition. I could hear the sad violins from across the room.”

Caitlyn wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Instead, she straightened her shoulders. “You look smug.”

Vi grinned. “I am smug.”

They stood there under the string lights, locked in a standoff of pride and leftover feelings. Caitlyn’s throat burned with words she didn’t want to say, and Vi’s eyes flickered with things she wouldn’t admit.

Finally, Caitlyn exhaled. “You really dyed your hair black.”

“Yeah.” Vi tugged on a strand, feigning casual. “Midlife crisis. Thought I’d get ahead of it.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched. “It suits you.”

Vi blinked. “What?”

“I said—” Caitlyn swallowed, forcing nonchalance. “It suits you. You look… like an angry oil slick.”

Vi’s smirk softened. “You mean hotter.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, heat creeping up her neck. “Don’t push it.”

“Can’t help it.”

They fell quiet again. The party noise dimmed behind them—muffled laughter, bad remixes, the occasional crash of a cup.

Vi leaned against the railing, looking out at the campus lights in the distance. “You really don’t know how to make things easy, do you?”

Caitlyn frowned. “You ended it.”

Vi turned to her, eyes steady, unreadable. “You kept calling me your friend.”

That hit like a punch.

Caitlyn looked away, fingers tightening on her cup. “It wasn’t— It’s complicated.”

“Not really,” Vi said gently. “You either want me or you don’t.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. Because she did. God, she did. But pride was a monster with her voice in its grip.

Vi sighed and stepped back, the space between them suddenly too wide. “See you around, cupcake.”

Caitlyn’s chest ached at the nickname.

She didn’t stop her. Didn’t say wait or I miss you or anything remotely vulnerable.

Vi walked off into the flickering lights, leather jacket catching a glint of gold before disappearing into the house.

And Caitlyn just stood there—alone on the porch, glass empty, heart stubborn.

Mel reappeared a minute later, holding a plate of nachos. “So… how’d it go?”

Caitlyn stared at the door. “I hate her.”

Mel sat beside her, smirking. “Yeah. Sure you do.”

Finals week was hell.

Not the fun, rowdy kind with all-nighters and coffee-fueled panic—no. This was the quiet, soul-crushing kind where everyone forgot what sunlight felt like and lived off energy drinks and academic despair.

Vi had survived her marketing exams with her usual strategy: wing it, charm the professors, and hope personality counted as extra credit. But Caitlyn Kiramman? She was built different.

The girl treated exams like combat.

And lately… she’d gone silent.

No posts. No stories. No snarky texts. Not even a sarcastic “good luck, peasant” message Vi usually got before big tests.

Vi told herself she didn’t care.

Then she saw Maddie post something—selfie with coffee, captioned: “study date cancelled 😩 she’s gone ghost mode again.”

And that was when Vi’s stomach sank.

She knew that mode.

She’d seen it before.

When Caitlyn shuts herself off, it wasn’t cute productivity—it was self-destruction in an overly expensive cashmere sweater.

Vi cursed under her breath, tossed her phone in her pocket, and grabbed her jacket.

“Where are you going?” Powder asked from the couch, not looking up from her Switch.

“Nowhere,” Vi lied, already lacing her boots.

“Tell her I said hi,” Powder said without missing a beat.

“Who?”

Powder smirked. “Your not-girlfriend.”

Vi flipped her off on the way out.

The elevator to Caitlyn’s penthouse was painfully slow. The kind of slow that gave Vi way too much time to think about what she was doing.

She’s fine, she told herself. She’s rich, organized, borderline obsessive—she probably has a calendar for breathing.

But the knot in her chest didn’t go away.

When the elevator doors finally opened, she hesitated—hand hovering over the spare key Caitlyn had given her months ago, back when “we’re not labeling this” still meant we trust each other anyway.

She shouldn’t still have it.

But she did.

Vi sighed, muttered a quiet, “God, I’m pathetic,” and turned the key.

The whole place was dark except for the soft glow of a desk lamp.

Papers were everywhere—scattered across the floor, stacked on the table, taped to the fridge for reasons Vi couldn’t even begin to understand. There was a mug with fossilized coffee on the counter and a plate of something that used to be food.

And there, sitting cross-legged on the couch wearing Vi’s favorite red hoodie (that made Vi smile btw), hair a mess, dark circles like war paint—was Caitlyn Kiramman herself.

She didn’t even look up when Vi walked in.

Her pen scribbled furiously across a page, muttering formulas like incantations.

Vi blinked. “Holy shit.”

No reaction.

“Caitlyn.”

Nothing.

“Cupcake.”

Caitlyn flinched, finally glancing up. Her eyes were red, tired, and entirely unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

“Breaking and entering,” Vi said, crossing her arms. “You look like death, by the way.”

Caitlyn groaned, slumping back. “Don’t you have a life?”

“Yeah, but this is more fun.” Vi walked closer, scanning the chaos. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’m fine.”

Vi picked up a mug, sniffed it, gagged. “This coffee has achieved sentience, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn snatched it back. “Don’t exaggerate.”

Vi tilted her head. “You’ve been in here for days, huh?”

“Three,” Caitlyn muttered, scribbling again. “Maybe four.”

“Jesus. Do you even remember sunlight?”

Caitlyn ignored her, flipping through pages like a machine. Vi leaned down, hands on the back of the couch, close enough to smell faint shampoo and stale caffeine.

“You’ll fry your brain like this,” Vi said softly.

Caitlyn’s pen paused. “I have to do well.”

“I know,” Vi said. “But you also have to live.”

Caitlyn finally looked up at her. Really looked. “Why do you care?”

Vi blinked, caught off guard. “Because—” she started, then stopped. “Because I do, alright?”

Caitlyn frowned, unsure how to handle that. Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen,” Vi said, slipping into her bossy voice. “You’re putting that pen down. You’re drinking water. You’re eating something that doesn’t come from a vending machine. Or I’m calling Mel.”

Caitlyn gasped and glared. “You wouldn’t.”

Vi glared back, grinning. “Try me.”

After a long stare-down, Caitlyn finally threw the pen aside. “Fine, whatever.”

“Alright,” Vi said, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make your favorite frittata,”

Ten minutes later, Caitlyn was sitting at the counter, sipping actual water while Vi cooked. The smell of butter filled the air, cutting through the stale scent of burnout.

Vi hummed quietly, wearing Caitlyn’s pink apron—the one that said ‘Kiss the Chef (Rich People Edition)’.

Caitlyn couldn’t help it—she smiled. Just a little.

“Stop smiling,” Vi said without looking back. “You’ll ruin your grumpy reputation.”

Caitlyn snorted. “You in an apron is objectively funny.”

“Laugh it up, cupcake. You’re eating these either way.”

Later, they sat on the couch—Caitlyn eating quietly, Vi stealing bites, the city lights painting soft reflections on the glass.

“Thanks,” Caitlyn said eventually.

“For what?”

“For showing up.”

Vi leaned back, smirking. “Someone’s gotta keep your dramatic ass alive.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her voice softened. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

That silenced them both. The air thickened—not tense, but warm. Familiar.

Caitlyn fiddled with her fork. “Your roots are now showing.”

Vi grinned. “You really haven’t slept.”

Caitlyn laughed, tired and genuine. “Touché.”

They didn’t fix everything that night. No grand apologies, no confessions. Just quiet comfort, a nasty yet edible frittata, and something fragile beginning to mend.

And when Vi left later—Caitlyn’s head finally resting on the arm of the couch, half-asleep under a blanket—she paused at the door.

Looked back once.

Smiled.

Then whispered to the empty room, “Don’t burn yourself out, cupcake.”

And this time, she locked the door behind her.

-

Caitlyn Kiramman was finally, mercifully, done.

After a week of sleepless nights, half-eaten granola bars, and staring at spreadsheets until her eyes watered, finals were over—and she had survived. Barely.

The morning after her last exam, she woke up in her penthouse with sunlight on her face and the distinct, life-altering thought:

I think I can feel my soul again.

It had been seven days since Vi had barged in and practically force-fed her frittata.  And ever since that night, Caitlyn had been quieter, softer, and maybe a little less sure of her own perfection.

Now, her place didn’t look like a battlefield anymore. The mountain of papers had vanished, her coffee cups were finally in the dishwasher, and her Bluetooth speaker was playing something dangerously optimistic—Taylor Swift’s Clean.

For the first time in weeks, Caitlyn wasn’t spiraling.

She was… healing.

The Kiramman version of healing, of course, meant wearing silk pajamas, eating overpriced fruit bowls, and staring at her reflection like she was in a perfume commercial.

Her phone buzzed.

Mel: “You alive?”

Then another from Jayce: “If you fail, can I have your espresso machine?”

Caitlyn grinned for the first time in days. She texted back, “Alive, stunning, and undefeated.”

Then paused—frowning slightly. Because she wasn’t really undefeated, was she?

In the quiet, her mind went straight to Vi.

Vi laughing with her friends.

Vi’s stupid grin when she teased her.

Vi’s hand brushing hers during late-night walks.

Vi, who looked at her like she was more than her grades or her family name.

And Caitlyn—who’d called her just a friend in front of people who didn’t matter.

God, she had been awful.

Her pride had dressed itself up as control. She realized that now. She’d wanted to be the one who never got hurt, who didn’t need to say sorry first. But Vi deserved better than being treated like a secret.

Caitlyn put her spoon down and stared out the window. The city was gold and glowing below, and for once, she didn’t feel untouchable—just human.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind her pride.

She stood, straightened her satin robe, and opened her wardrobe. The sight of her color-coded closet stared back at her like a silent judgmental audience.

“This is a new era,” she muttered. “A rebrand.”

She flipped through hangers until she found a dress that screamed: I’m sorry, but hot. A soft blue one—simple, flattering, humble enough to say I’ve changed, but short enough to say I’m still Caitlyn Kiramman.

Her heart fluttered

She was actually going to see Vi.

As she brushed her hair, she caught her reflection again—bright blue eyes, a soft smile, the faintest trace of nerves.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You’re not begging. You’re just… being honest. Mature. Grown-up. Maybe a little dazzling.”

She grabbed her keys, her heart pounding.

Outside, the city buzzed. And somewhere across the city, Violet Lanes—black hair, smug grin, chaos incarnate—had no idea that Caitlyn Kiramman, the girl who never apologized, was finally ready to try.

For once, not to win.

But to make it right.

She’d had faced exams, investment board interviews, and her mother’s terrifying dinner guests—but none of that prepared her for standing in front of Vi’s apartment door.

She’d been rehearsing what to say the ride.

Something mature. Something calm. Something that didn’t sound like “please love me again, I’m an idiot.”

She took a breath, fixed her hair, adjusted her coat—then knocked.

A few seconds later, the door swung open.

It wasn’t Vi.

It was a small, blue-haired gremlin in an oversized hoodie, holding a popsicle.

Powder squinted at her. “Oh. It’s the heartbreaker.”

Caitlyn blinked. “Excuse me?”

Powder took a dramatic bite of her popsicle. “Vi said if a tall fancy girl shows up looking like she’s about to apologize in Dior, I should probably charge admission.”

Caitlyn’s jaw dropped. “I— I’m not wearing Dior.”

Powder eyed her trench coat. “Sure, Gucci Girl.”

Caitlyn inhaled sharply, trying not to lose her composure to a literal teenager. “Is Vi home?”

“She’s in her room,” Powder said, licking her popsicle slowly. “Brooding. Probably writing emo poetry or whatever. You here to fix that or make it worse?”

“I—” Caitlyn straightened. “That’s… a complicated question.”

Powder smirked. “You’re gonna say sorry, huh?”

Caitlyn blinked, caught off guard. “…Yes.”

Powder grinned, leaning on the doorframe. “Finally. Took you long enough, Miss Kirrehemmen.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Caitlyn glared, but before she could come up with a retort, Powder spun around, shouting over her shoulder, “Vi! Your emotionally constipated girlfriend is here!”

Caitlyn’s soul left her body.

“We were never—!” she started, but it was too late. Powder was already walking down the hall, waving her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t do it in the kitchen, okay? Other people eat there.”

Caitlyn nearly choked on air. “Powder!”

“Use her room!” the girl called out cheerfully. “She changes her sheets sometimes!”

The door to Vi’s room creaked open, and Caitlyn’s heart just about stopped.

There she was.

Vi leaned against the doorframe, wearing a tank top and boy shorts, a faint smirk playing on her lips. She looked maddeningly hot and—worse—amused.

“Hey, cupcake,” Vi drawled. “You planning to stand there all day or you comin’ in?”

Caitlyn, despite every nerve in her body screaming otherwise, lifted her chin. “Well,” she said primly, “that depends on whether you’re going to listen.”

Vi grinned. “Oh, I’ll listen.”

From the hallway, Powder yelled, “And no sex while I’m watching TV!”

Caitlyn’s face went bright red. Vi burst out laughing.

And somehow—between the embarrassment, the banter, and that familiar pull in her chest—Caitlyn realized she was exactly where she needed to be.

Caitlyn stepped into Vi’s room like she was crossing a battlefield in heels.

The place was so Vi—messy, chaotic, smelled like leather, gym sweat, and cheap beer—but somehow still warm. A pair of boxing gloves hung on the wall, and a cracked mirror reflected the soft glow of the fairy lights Vi had probably stolen from someone’s dorm.

Caitlyn stood there awkwardly, clutching her designer purse like it was emotional armor.

Vi sat down on the edge of her bed, elbow resting on her knee, that damn smug smile tugging at her lips.

“So, what brings you here, princess? Lost your chauffeur?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but her voice came out quieter than she meant. “I came to talk.”

Vi arched a brow. “Talk? Or scold?”

“I don’t scold,” Caitlyn huffed, crossing her arms.

Vi tilted her head, smirk deepening. “You definitely scold.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to breathe.

This wasn’t about winning. Not this time.

“I just…” She exhaled, pacing once before stopping in front of her. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Vi blinked, like she hadn’t expected that one. “Sorry? For what?”

“For everything,” Caitlyn said, voice cracking slightly. “For calling you my friend. For treating you like something I could hide. For being—” she gestured vaguely, “—me.”

Vi’s lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile. “You mean a bossy, dramatic rich girl who thinks emotions are stock options?”

Caitlyn glared at her. “I’m being vulnerable right now, Violet.”

That earned a laugh—low and soft. “Alright, alright. Keep goin’.”

Caitlyn groaned and sat down beside her, clutching a throw pillow like it could stop her heart from sprinting.

“Do you have any idea how awful it feels to be wrong?” she muttered. “I’ve been trained since birth to never be wrong. It’s… humiliating.”

Vi leaned back on her hands, watching her. “And yet, here you are.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to her, then away. “I missed you,” she admitted. Quiet. Honest. “Even when you dyed your hair black and started posting thirst traps like you were auditioning for Calvin Klein.”

Vi chuckled. “You noticed.”

“Everyone noticed!” Caitlyn threw her hands up. “Even my mother asked who the hot girl in my feed was back when I was visiting the estate,”

Vi grinned. “You told her it was your friend, right?”

Caitlyn winced. “…I deserved that.”

Vi laughed again, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her tone softened.

“Y’know, I wasn’t mad because you didn’t wanna label us. I was mad because it felt like you were ashamed to.”

Caitlyn froze. That hit harder than she expected.

“I wasn’t ashamed,” she whispered. “I was… scared.”

“Of what?”

Caitlyn met her eyes. “Of losing control. Of wanting you more than you wanted me. Of everyone seeing that the perfect Caitlyn Kiramman fell for a girl who drinks gas station coffee and forgets to charge her phone.”

Vi smirked faintly. “Wow. Romantic and insulting. That’s new.”

Caitlyn groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re cute when you’re nervous,” Vi said softly.

Caitlyn peeked between her fingers, glaring half-heartedly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Something in Vi’s voice made her drop her hands. The teasing was gone—just warmth, and that maddening tenderness that made Caitlyn’s chest ache.

“I really did miss you,” Caitlyn said again, steadier this time. “And I don’t care if you think I’m ridiculous or spoiled or whatever. I just—” her throat tightened, “—I just want another chance to do it right.”

For a second, Vi said nothing. Just watched her. Then she leaned closer, voice a low rumble.

“You done apologizing, cupcake?”

Caitlyn blinked. “What?”

Vi smiled. “Because if that’s all, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Caitlyn froze. “What—wait—”

Too late. Vi’s hand was already on her cheek, pulling her in. The kiss was slow, confident, unfairly good. The kind of kiss that made Caitlyn forget she was supposed to be composed.

When Vi pulled back, Caitlyn was breathless, lips parted, heart in freefall.

Vi grinned. “Is that enough to say I miss you too?”

From the hallway, Powder’s voice shouted, “ARE YOU GUYS HAVING SEX NOW? I’LL TURN UP THE VOLUME!”

Caitlyn groaned into Vi’s shoulder as Vi started laughing. “You live with a demon.”

Vi kissed her temple, smiling. “Yeah, sooo I was thinking, how are you gonna make it up to me?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but moved her legs to straddle Vi, "How about I show you how sorry I am?"

"Attagirl, that's more I like it."

Caitlyn Kiramman was glowing.

Not her usual rich-girl, perfectly-moisturized kind of glow—this was something else.

This was Vi texted me good morning glow. Vi called me “cupcake” again glow. The kind of glow that made her latte foam look like a heart even when it wasn’t supposed to.

It had been a week since their reunion—since Vi fucked kissed her senseless.

And Caitlyn, for the first time in what felt like forever, felt like herself again. A little less pride, a little more heart.

Today was her grand come back to normal life—or as close to normal as someone like Caitlyn could get. She was on campus, standing under the blinding noon sun, waiting for Maddie Nolen.

Sweet, petite, ginger Maddie Nolen.

The girl who had—unknowingly—been part of Caitlyn’s “Operation: Jealousy.”

And still, somehow even though she literally ghosted her, still texts Caitlyn things like “Good morning, sunshine ☀️💖”.

Maddie waved as she approached, iced coffee in hand and wearing a smile that could power an entire town. “Cait! You look amazing! You’ve been, like, radiant lately.”

Caitlyn smiled, equal parts guilt and charm. “Oh, you know. Post-finals enlightenment. Maybe a touch of character development.”

Maddie giggled. “Well, it suits you! Are you coming to the student mixer tonight? Jayce said he’s dragging Mel and Viktor. You should come too!”

Caitlyn hesitated for a moment—but then she remembered Vi’s text from this morning:

“If you’re coming tonight, wear that blue dress. You know the one.”

Her pulse quickened. “I’ll be there,” she said, smiling.

The mixer was loud, chaotic, and smelled faintly of cheap beer and popcorn. Caitlyn walked in with Maddie and instantly spotted the gang—Jayce and Mel arguing about something political, Viktor patiently sipping soda, and at the center of it all…

Vi.

Leather jacket, white shirt, smirk that could melt steel.

The room tilted slightly. Caitlyn told herself to act normal. Cool. Graceful. She could do this.

“Hey, Caitlyn!” Jayce called, grinning. “You brought your friend!”

Maddie waved politely. “Hi!”

Caitlyn smiled tightly, trying not to crumble under the weight of Vi’s eyes from across the room. She could feel her looking, probably amused out of her mind.

Vi sauntered over like she owned gravity. “Didn’t expect to see you here, cupcake.”

Caitlyn lifted her chin, pretending her heart wasn’t doing gymnastics. “I had a free evening.”

Vi smirked. “And company.”

Maddie perked up. “Hi! I’m Maddie. We’ve met, I think! You’re Cait’s… friend?”

Caitlyn froze. Jayce choked on his drink. Mel started whispering “oh no” under her breath.

Vi’s grin turned absolutely feral. “Yeah,” she said casually, sliding an arm around Caitlyn’s waist. “You could say that.”

Caitlyn went scarlet. “Violet!”

Maddie blinked, confused but cheerful. “Ohhh, I get it! You two are, like, besties again!”

Vi snorted. “Something like that.”

Mel, ever the instigator, muttered, “More like she’s finally admitting she’s whipped.”

“Mel,” Caitlyn hissed, but it was too late—Vi was beaming.

Maddie, bless her sweet oblivious heart, just smiled and took a sip of her drink. “That’s so nice! Caitlyn really needed to relax. She was so tense lately.”

Jayce whispered to Viktor, “Should we tell her?”

Viktor: “No. Let the universe handle it.”

Caitlyn tried to form a coherent sentence. “Maddie, actually, Vi and I are—”

But Vi interrupted, leaning in close enough for Caitlyn to feel her smirk against her ear. “—back where we belong.”

Caitlyn’s words died in her throat.

Maddie clapped her hands. “Aww! You two made up! That’s adorable!”

Caitlyn buried her face in her hands, mumbling something about divine punishment, while Vi laughed—deep and unrestrained—the kind of laugh that filled the whole room.

Later, as the party spilled out onto the lawn, Caitlyn and Vi found themselves sitting side by side on the steps, the air warm and alive with music.

Caitlyn sighed. “You’re really impossible.”

Vi grinned, brushing her pinkie against hers. “You love impossible things, cupcake.”

Caitlyn smiled despite herself, resting her head on Vi’s shoulder. “I really do.”

And as the music swelled and Vi’s laugh rang through the night, Caitlyn finally realized— sometimes, even spoiled rich girls get it right in the end.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn Kiramman had faced many terrifying things in her young life— the midterms of her sophomore year, Mel’s hungover driving, Powder with access to fireworks— but none compared to the sight of her mother’s message that read:

Dinner tonight. Bring your “friend.” Your father is curious.

There it was.

The word that had once started a war between her and Vi.
Friend.

Only this time, Caitlyn wasn’t going to let it stand.

The doorbell to the Kiramman estate didn’t just chime—it announced. A deep, orchestral tone that made even Caitlyn’s posture straighten reflexively.

She opened the door and almost forgot how to breathe.

Vi stood there in a perfectly fitted black suit, crisp white shirt, tie slightly loose, and her hair slicked back in a way that screamed I tried for you, but not too much.

“Holy—” Caitlyn caught herself. “Damn you look so good, babe!”

Vi grinned, eyes flicking over Caitlyn’s navy dress. “You look like money.”

Caitlyn smirked. “And you look like trouble wrapped in Armani.”

Vi leaned in, murmuring, “Mylo lent me this suit. I don’t know where he got this. so, are we ready to ruin your parents’ evening?”

“Desperately.”

Dinner at the Kiramman household was a performance. Every glass sparkled, every plate was symmetrical, and every silence carried weight.

Her mother, Cassandra Kiramman, sat at the head of the table like a queen. Her father, ever the polite diplomat, smiled too warmly to be comfortable.

And at the far end, Vi—legs slightly spread, jacket off, calloused hands folded neatly like she’d Googled how to look respectable.

“So, Violet,” Cassandra began, tone dipped in fine silver. “You’re studying… marketing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Vi said smoothly. “Learning how to sell people things they don’t need. Bit like politics, I think.”

Caitlyn’s fork froze midair. Her father coughed into his napkin to hide a laugh.

Cassandra’s smile twitched. “I see.”

Mel and Jayce, who had somehow been invited as emotional support, sipped their wine, eyes sparkling with this is better than reality TV.

Jayce leaned toward her, whispering, “Ten bucks says Caitlyn spills something by dessert.”
Mel whispered back, “Double if it’s emotional.”

Caitlyn cleared her throat, desperate to steer the conversation. “Violet’s also training in boxing. She’s incredible, actually—won a few matches.”

Cassandra blinked, unimpressed. “How… physical.”

Vi just smiled, unbothered. “Keeps me disciplined. Helps me punch through problems.”

Caitlyn glared at her. Vi winked.

Her father chuckled lightly. “A refreshing change from finance.”

Caitlyn smiled stiffly. “Yes, Father. Very refreshing.”

Dinner continued like a tense chess match—Cassandra probing, Vi countering with wit, Caitlyn silently screaming into her wine glass.

At one point, Vi leaned over and whispered, “Your mom hates me.”

Caitlyn whispered back, “She hates most people.”

“Comforting.”

By dessert, something miraculous happened—her father asked Vi about her sister. Vi lit up, talking about Powder’s projects and her found-family of friends, her tone soft and proud.

Caitlyn watched her, realizing how rarely she saw Vi this way. No teasing, no armor. Just honesty.

Cassandra noticed too.  She seemed… curious and then she said something that Caitlyn hadn't expected, “You take care of her?”

Vi nodded. “Always.”

Something unspoken passed across the table—a flicker of reluctant respect.

Caitlyn’s chest tightened. She hadn’t expected this. Not from her mother. Not tonight.

When dinner finally ended, Vi helped clear the plates despite every servant’s attempt to stop her, and Caitlyn’s father actually clapped her on the shoulder on the way out.

“Good luck, Violet, my daughter can be a handful.” he said, smiling. “You’ll need it.”

Caitlyn walked Vi out to the car, her heels clicking against the marble like punctuation marks to a silent victory.

“Well,” Vi said, hands in her pockets. “I think that went amazing.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “My mother asked if you had a criminal record.”

Vi grinned. “Yeah, and I didn’t lie. That’s growth.”

Caitlyn groaned, but she was smiling. She leaned against the car door, looking at her—this impossible, stubborn girl who somehow fit into her world by refusing to belong to it.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said softly.

Vi tilted her head. “For what?”

“For trying. For showing up. For not running.”

Vi stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind Caitlyn’s ear. “You’re worth the mess, cupcake.”

Caitlyn’s heart melted. “You really shouldn’t say things like that in Armani.”

Vi smirked. “You love it.”

“I do.”

She kissed her—soft, quick, and deliciously.

And inside the estate, behind the curtains, Mel whispered to Jayce, “Pay up. Emotional spill and kiss after dessert.”

Jayce groaned. “Worth it.”

“So are we still on that trip with them?” Mel asked, playing with the money unsure of what to do with it.

“Heck yeah!”

Caitlyn had always pictured her first trip with her girlfriend as something straight out of a romance novel — golden sunsets melting into the sea, glasses of wine shared over quiet laughter, maybe even a slow dance under the stars. Instead, she got Powder with a megaphone.

“ROAD TRIP!” Powder screamed from the backseat, waving a half-opened bag of Cheetos like a flag. “DJ Powder in the house!”

The luxury van — a sleek, silver beast that cost more than some people’s tuition shook with bass the second Powder connected her playlist.

Vi, lounging in the passenger seat with her boots on the dashboard, just grinned. “You sure you wanna let them in your fancy bubble, babe?”

Caitlyn adjusted her sunglasses, exhaling through her nose like a mother on the brink. “No. But you’re my girlfriend, and you begged. So here we are.”

From the middle row, Jayce raised a can of beer. “To love!”
Viktor, beside him, didn’t even look up from his tablet. “I'm already regretting this.”
Mel snorted. “Same thing.”

Vi leaned over and kissed Caitlyn’s cheek mid-traffic, just because she could. “You love me.”
Caitlyn’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Tragically.”

Four hours. Four hours of snack crumbs, shouting, and Powder attempting to prank-call random restaurants for “emergency nachos.”
By the time the van rolled to a stop near the lake cabin, Caitlyn had survived exactly twelve near-heart attacks.

The cabin sat against a stretch of silver water, sunlight shimmering off it like glass. Birds chirped, leaves rustled — nature’s version of a spa playlist.

Vi stretched, stepping out of the van in a tank top and ripped jeans, looking sinfully good against the lakeside breeze. “Damn,” she said. “You really booked a rich-people Pinterest dream.”

“It’s called taste,” Caitlyn replied, slipping on her designer shades. “You should try it sometime.”

“Babe, my taste’s right here.” Vi pointed at her.

Caitlyn choked on air. Jayce, passing by with a wine cooler, muttered, “I hate how cute you two are.”

The first day was a complete disaster.

Jayce tried to cook, nearly burned the deck. Viktor lectured him on “heat management” while fanning smoke with a magazine.
Powder and Ekko cannonballed into the lake without checking the temperature, screaming loud enough to scare ducks from three coves away.

Mel filmed everything for blackmail.

Caitlyn, sitting by the firepit with a blanket over her shoulders, watched Vi laugh with her friends. The orange glow kissed the curve of her cheek, and something warm bloomed in Caitlyn’s chest — the soft, annoying kind of love that made her forget how to breathe.

Then Vi caught her staring.

“What?” Vi asked, smiling like she already knew.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, hiding behind her mug. “You’re loud.”

“You like loud.”

“I tolerate loud.”

Vi sat beside her, shoulder pressed to hers. “You adore loud.”

And just as Caitlyn leaned in to kiss her —

Powder yelled from the lake, “NO PDA NEAR THE FIRE! YOU’LL BOIL THE BEER!”

Caitlyn groaned, burying her face into Vi’s shoulder as everyone burst out laughing.

Later, when everyone was settled, Caitlyn found herself alone on the porch. The moon rippled on the lake, the night humming with crickets and leftover laughter.

Vi joined her quietly, sliding an arm around her waist. “Worth the chaos?” 

Caitlyn leaned into her. “Maybe. Ask me again tomorrow.”

Vi kissed her temple. “You’ll say yes.”

And even though Caitlyn huffed, her heart already did.

Sunlight spilled through the cabin windows like a personal attack.

Caitlyn groaned, rolling over in the plush bed she’d definitely overpaid for, and immediately regretted opening her eyes. Powder was passed out on the floor next to a half-eaten bag of chips. Jayce was snoring in the living room; limbs splayed out like roadkill. And somewhere, someone was making ungodly blender noises.

Caitlyn sat up, clutching her blanket. “Who in their right mind is making smoothies at seven in the morning?”

Mel’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Your girlfriend.”

Caitlyn blinked blearily toward the sound. Sure enough, Vi was at the counter, hair a wild halo, wearing Caitlyn’s oversized sweatshirt and no shame. She was humming along to Powder’s leftover playlist, dumping fruit into the blender like she owned the place.

And maybe she kind of did.

“Morning, sunshine,” Vi said, flashing a grin as the blender roared again. “Want one? It’s mostly banana. I think.”

Caitlyn squinted. “Do you even know how to measure anything?”

“Nope,” Vi said proudly. “It’s a vibe.”

“Your vibe is unsanitary.”

“Your vibe’s cute when it’s grumpy.”

Caitlyn’s only response was a groan and a faceplant onto the table. Vi placed a cold glass beside her head anyway.

Mel, sipping her coffee like a war veteran, muttered, “Can’t believe I’m living through a hangover and watching a romcom at the same time.”

Jayce stumbled in, hair a disaster. “Who put glitter in my hair?”

“Powder,” three voices answered in unison.

Powder herself appeared moments later, still in pajamas, rubbing her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s eco-friendly glitter. Probably.”

Viktor entered last, looking infuriatingly composed, holding his laptop. “Does anyone else hear ringing?”

“That’s just your tinnitus,” Jayce said.

“It’s the blender,” Caitlyn hissed. “Turn it off before I disown all of you.”

Vi laughed and did it, finally, kissing Caitlyn’s temple as a peace offering. “You’re cute when you threaten people.”

“Keep talking,” Caitlyn mumbled, “and you’ll find out if that’s still true.”

The rest of the morning descended into what could only be described as high-functioning mess.

Powder accidentally launched a pancake onto the ceiling.
Ekko tried to fix it with a broom and somehow made it worse.
Jayce attempted to “help” with breakfast and nearly burned the skillet.
Mel and Viktor just watched like two scientists observing a failed experiment.

Caitlyn, however, was trying very hard not to smile as Vi danced around the kitchen barefoot, laughing like the world wasn’t real.

It hit her, then — how easy Vi made everything feel. How she filled the room without trying. How, despite the noise and disaster and questionable food safety, Caitlyn couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When everyone finally settled by the deck, plates in hand, the lake glimmered like glass. Powder and Ekko bickered over who’d take the canoe first. Jayce was already half-asleep in a hammock.

Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, her head resting on Vi’s shoulder. “You’re enjoying this too much,” she murmured.

“Obviously,” Vi said, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. “My girlfriend’s happy. My friends didn’t die. And I didn’t burn your van. I’d call that a win.”

Caitlyn smirked. “You came close.”

“Yeah,” Vi said, grinning. “But you’d forgive me anyway.”

And when Caitlyn didn’t answer — just turned her head and kissed her instead — Powder’s voice broke through the moment:

“EW! NOT NEAR THE PANCAKES!”

Vi laughed against her lips. Caitlyn didn’t stop.

The lake was almost too beautiful for the kind of chaos that was about to unfold. Sunlight rippled across the water like a sheet of glass, birds sang, and a gentle breeze rolled through the pines — nature’s perfect mood board for serenity.

Which was immediately ruined when Powder yelled, “CANNONBALL!” and body-slammed the lake.

Caitlyn barely had time to react before a wave hit her legs. She shrieked, clutching her towel. “Powder!”

“WHAT? It’s a lake, not a museum!”

Vi, of course, was laughing from the dock, wearing a black tank top and shorts that were absolutely illegal for Caitlyn’s heart rate. “C’mon, babe, it’s not that deep!”

“You said that about our relationship once,” Caitlyn muttered, setting down her book.

Vi grinned. “And look where we are now.”

Caitlyn huffed, pulling off her sunhat. “Fine. But if I get algae on my legs—”

“—You’ll survive, Princess.”

She didn’t. She screamed when the water hit her waist, Vi laughed so hard she nearly fell over, and the entire lake echoed with Powder’s laughter.

An hour later, the group had turned the dock into a warzone of floating inflatables and questionable competitions.

Jayce had somehow fashioned a “beer relay” using paddleboards. Viktor was pretending not to participate, yet kept timing everyone with his smartwatch. Mel had claimed the best float and declared herself The Queen of the Lake. Ekko and Powder were racing with pool noodles as weapons.

Caitlyn floated on a pink flamingo, glaring at Vi on the opposite side of the dock. “You’re cheating!” she called.

“I’m winning!” Vi shouted back, paddling circles around her.

“You used my float as leverage!”

“It’s called strategy, babe!”

The flamingo tipped. Caitlyn shrieked. Vi dove in, laughing, and pulled her up before she sank completely.

When Caitlyn resurfaced — hair slicked back, eyes blazing — Vi was still grinning, water dripping from her lashes. “You okay, rich girl?”

“I hate you,” Caitlyn said, breathless.

Vi’s grin softened. “No you dont, you love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

By late afternoon, everyone was sprawled across the dock or the shore, sun-tired and happy.

Jayce was snoring again. Powder and Ekko were skipping stones, Mel was reading under a wide-brimmed hat, and Viktor was talking softly about something Caitlyn didn’t understand but found oddly soothing.

Vi lay beside her, one arm folded under her head, the other lazily tracing circles on Caitlyn’s knee.

“This is nice,” Vi murmured.

“It would be nicer if I weren’t sunburned.”

Vi laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You look good red.”

“Flattery won’t fix my skin cells.”

“It might fix your mood.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. The sound of water lapping against the dock, the hum of distant laughter, the soft warmth of Vi’s hand — it all felt too perfect to ruin.

For once, she didn’t think about school, expectations, or her family. Just this.

Vi stretched, sitting up. “Hey, Powder’s starting a volleyball game. You in?”

Caitlyn groaned. “Do I look like someone who enjoys sweating?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, but make it expensive.”

“Violet.”

“Come on, babe. I’ll carry you if you lose.”

Two hours, one disastrous volleyball game, and several near-drownings later, the sun began to dip low over the water. Everyone was laughing, drenched, and entirely alive.

Caitlyn stood at the edge of the dock, watching the last streaks of gold fade into violet.

Vi came up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

Caitlyn leaned back into her chest. “You were right.”

“Say that again?”

“Don’t push it.”

Vi laughed softly against her ear. “You’re cute when you’re smug.”

They stayed there for a while, quiet and sun-warmed, the world soft around them — Caitlyn thought, maybe chaos wasn’t so bad when it came with her.

By the time the sun melted behind the trees, the lake had turned into liquid gold. The air buzzed with cicadas and laughter, and the smell of charred marshmallows hung thick over the shore.

The fire crackled in the middle of their circle — everyone’s faces glowing orange and wild in the flickering light.

Powder was, naturally, in charge of roasting. Which meant half the marshmallows were on fire. “IT’S FINE,” she said, waving one torch-like stick in the air. “Crispy is a flavor!”

Caitlyn ducked just in time as a flaming puff of sugar flew past her. “You’re banned from handling anything edible!”

“Too late,” Powder said cheerfully. “I already fed Ekko one!”

Ekko grimaced. “It tasted like regret.”

Jayce, sitting shirtless and unbothered, raised his beer. “To regret!”

Mel clinked her bottle against his.

Vi laughed, leaning back on her elbows beside Caitlyn. Her black shirt clung to her, skin kissed golden by the firelight. Caitlyn caught herself staring again. Unfair, she thought. Deeply unfair.

Vi noticed. Of course she did. “Like what you see, rich girl?”

Caitlyn raised her chin, feigning composure. “I was actually marveling at how many times you’ve spilled your drink.”

“Sure you were.” Vi smirked, eyes lazy and warm. “Keep lookin’ then.”

Caitlyn hated how easy it was for her to blush. She turned to Mel for rescue. “Remind me again why I invited everyone?”

“Because you love us,” Mel said, smiling with too much wine and too much truth.

“I doubt that,” Caitlyn muttered, though her lips betrayed her.

The night grew heavier — fire popping, music humming low from Ekko’s speaker. Viktor was telling Powder and Jayce a story about his first failed chemistry experiment (“It did not explode. It imploded.”). Powder clapped like it was a badge of honor.

Vi was quiet now, sitting cross-legged beside Caitlyn, staring into the fire. “You ever think about how weird it is?” she murmured.

“How weird what is?”

“Us.” Vi’s voice was soft, playful, but sincere. “You. Me. You’re like... champagne and credit scores. I’m like... canned beer and unpaid parking tickets.”

Caitlyn smiled faintly. “You’re also kind, funny, and good at setting things on fire.”

“That last one’s a skill.”

“I’m aware,” she said dryly.

Vi leaned closer, smirk fading to something gentler. “You ever regret it? Y’know, us?”

Caitlyn turned toward her, eyes reflecting firelight. “No,” she said. “Just maybe... how long it took me to stop pretending I didn’t want it.”

Vi blinked. Then smiled, slow and soft. “Yeah. Same.”

From across the fire, Powder gagged loudly. “Ugh! Feelings!”

“Pipe down, you gremlin,” Vi shot back. “Go burn another marshmallow.”

Caitlyn laughed, the kind that shook loose something inside her. She leaned her head against Vi’s shoulder, letting the world blur into heat and laughter and stars.

For a long moment, they just watched the fire burn down, embers drifting up like fireflies.

Vi whispered, “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Thanks for not giving up on me.”

Caitlyn smiled against her arm. “Thanks for making it impossible to.”

Behind them, Jayce started singing Mr. Brightside off-key, Mel joined in, Powder tried to harmonize, and the entire night dissolved into messy, perfect noise.

Caitlyn looked at Vi — her Vi — and thought, maybe this was what love really was.
Not control. Not perfection.
Just… chaos that felt like home.