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Damian Desmond was having a perfectly controlled day.
Which, for an eighteen-year-old Imperial Scholar with an elite upbringing, meant his posture was straight, his expression mildly bored, and his internal monologue aggressively rehearsing future political dominance.
The Eden Academy library was quiet—too quiet.
Sunlight spilled through tall windows, illuminating rows of desks where the best and brightest pretended they weren’t constantly sizing each other up.
Damian sat at his usual table, pen in hand, textbook open, trying very hard not to glance across from him.
Anya Forger sat there, legs tucked up on the chair despite the academy’s very clear rules against it, chewing on the end of her pen as she scrolled through her phone.
She had been assigned to work with him for the Imperial Scholars’ policy analysis project.
A cruel joke. Or fate. Damian hadn’t decided which yet.
Anya frowned at her screen.
Becky had sent her a photo—some idol from Ostania, winking dramatically, heart stickers plastered all over the image.
Becky: He’s soooo cute 😍 send hearts if u agree
Anya snorted softly.
She typed back without looking.
❤️
And hit send.
Across the table, Damian’s world stopped.
The notification buzzed in his pocket.
Damian Desmond, future leader of the nation, heir to political power, froze like a statue carved from marble.
Slowly—dangerously slowly—he pulled out his phone.
Forger :❤️
His brain blue-screened.
His heart performed what could only be described as a gymnastics routine.
A heart.
A heart.
A HEART.
For him.
Damian stared at the screen, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and spiritual awakening.
This was it.
This was the moment.
The Desmond lineage would remember this day.
Across the table, Becky Blackbell let out a noise that could only be described as a tea kettle being murdered.
“ANYA—”
Heads turned. Librarian glare activated.
Becky slapped her hands over her mouth, vibrating with contained hysteria.
Anya looked up, startled. “What?”
Damian was staring at her.
Not his usual annoyed glare. Not his flustered scowl.
He was staring.
Like she had just told him the secrets of the universe.
“…Why is he staring at me?” Anya whispered to Becky.
Becky’s eyes were sparkling like fireworks. “ANYA YOU SENT HIM A HEART.”
Anya blinked.
She blinked again.
She looked at her phone.
Her smile died.
“…Oh.”
Damian internally combusted.
She said oh.
OH.
That was casual. That was confident. That was—bold.
This had to be intentional. There was no way Anya Forger, chaos incarnate, would accidentally send a heart.
This was clearly a declaration.
Damian straightened in his chair, attempting nonchalance.
“F-Forger.”
His voice cracked.
He cleared his throat sharply. “Forger.”
Anya looked up. “Yeah?”
Damian’s brain screamed.
She’s acting normal. She’s testing you. Don’t fail.
He leaned back, crossing his arms like he wasn’t internally screaming.
“…Did you need something?”
Anya tilted her head. “You’re the one staring at me.”
Damian choked.
“I—what? I wasn’t staring.”
“You were,” she said plainly. “Like this.”
She widened her eyes dramatically.
Becky covered her face, shoulders shaking.
Damian felt his soul attempt to leave his body.
“I was merely—processing,” he said stiffly.
“Processing what?” Anya asked.
The heart.
THE HEART.
He could feel it burning through his pocket like evidence of a crime.
Damian smirked—poorly. Painfully. Tragically.
“Well,” he said, voice trying and failing to sound smooth, “if you had something you wanted to say to me, you could’ve just said it.”
Anya blinked.
“…Huh?”
Becky squeaked.
Anya frowned, genuinely confused. “Say what?”
Damian’s confidence collapsed like a poorly built tower.
“…The message,” he muttered.
Anya glanced down at her phone again.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh. OH.”
She looked back up at him, waving her hands. “No no no, that wasn’t for you!”
Damian’s heart shattered into seventeen pieces.
“…It wasn’t?” he asked quietly.
Becky lunged forward. “SHE MEANT TO SEND IT TO ME.”
Silence.
Damian stared.
Then—
He laughed.
A laugh that sounded a little too loud and a little too fake.
“Ah. Of course,” he said quickly. “Obviously.”
Internally, he was screaming.
THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE.
NO—WAIT—SHE SENT A HEART—ACCIDENTALLY—BUT SHE COULD’VE MEANT IT—
He stood up abruptly. “I should—get water.”
He knocked his chair over.
The entire library stared.
Anya watched him scramble to fix it, face redder than a tomato.
“…Is he okay?” she asked.
Becky grabbed Anya’s shoulders. “ANYA DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID TO HIM.”
“I sent the wrong emoji.”
“YOU SENT A HEART TO DAMIAN DESMOND.”
Anya shrugged. “It’s just a heart.”
Across the room, Damian stood by the water fountain, gripping the edge like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.
A heart, he thought.
She thought of me.
Even by accident.
This was still the best day of his life.
He straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and marched back.
Damian sat down again, posture stiff.
“…Forger.”
Anya looked up. “Yeah?”
He hesitated. Then, trying desperately to sound casual—
“…If you ever intended to send something like that. Intentionally.”
Becky leaned in.
Damian swallowed. “…I wouldn’t mind.”
Anya stared at him.
Then she smiled.
“Oh,” she said simply. “Okay.”
Damian felt his heart explode again.
Becky screamed—silently.
The librarian kicked them out five minutes later.
And Damian Desmond walked out of the library convinced that even accidental hearts could change the course of history. 💗