CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 42: THE CALM BEFORE THE TEST

Zane’s POV

The car slowed as we pulled up outside my house.

The familiar sight of home—the slightly crooked mailbox, the wind-chime Mom insisted on keeping even though it never stopped ringing, the porch light that flickered when it was too humid—was oddly comforting after everything..

Celeste shifted slightly in the seat beside me, glancing over at me, her fingers still resting lightly on the window, thumb tapping a rhythm I didn’t recognize. Every one else has already got off on their places now its just me and her.

"You know..." she said softly, "you can talk to me about anything, right?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Her words didn’t carry any weight of expectation. Just... space. A thread offered.

"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks, Celeste."

She gave me a small smile—one of those rare ones where her eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners. "Take care of yourself."

The door clicked open. I stepped out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. The car hesitated for a second before pulling away, her taillights vanishing around the corner, swallowed by the lengthening shadows.

For a moment, I just stood there, breathing in the late summer air. It smelled like dust and pine needles and distant smoke—someone must’ve started grilling down the street.

The past twenty-four hours replayed in fragments. Monopoly scattered across the floor. Emphera lying across the couch upside down, ranting about capitalism. Lena half-yelling at everyone and Iris calmly sipping her drink while judging us like an immortal queen.

And then in morning. When he showed up?

It felt like the main character had changed.

I shook the thought off. That was dumb. There weren’t any main characters. Just people. Just... stories bumping into each other.

I walked toward the door.

The moment I stepped inside, I was ambushed.

"Zane!"

My mom’s voice sliced through the quiet like a blade. Slippers smacked on hardwood. Her face appeared around the corner of the kitchen, hair pulled back, eyes wide with panic and fury.

"Where were you? Do you know what time it is? You didn’t come home at night ! I nearly called the police!"

"Mom, it’s fine—"

"Oh, you say that now! But you left a vague text at morning and when I called it was unreachable ! Do you know how many scenarios I imagined?! You could’ve been in a ditch—kidnapped—dead in some alley—!"

Behind her, my dad appeared at the hallway entrance. Arms crossed. Calm. But judging. His classic "I’m not mad, just disappointed" aura radiated from him like some kind of dad-skill aura passive buff.

Before I could get a single word in, a voice cut through the chaos like a knife through glass.

"He was probably getting laid."

Blair.

She descended the stairs like a smug, chaotic goddess. Her hair—same deep brown as mine—was yanked into a lazy bun. She wore a T-shirt that read: Sarcasm is my love language and carried the energy of someone who got eight hours of sleep and woke up ready to start drama.

Mom turned, scandalized. "Blair!"

"What? He’s nineteen. Let the man live."

I groaned. "Can we not?"

She grinned wide, striding over and ruffling my hair like I was still twelve. "Relax, squirt. Just happy you’re alive. I didn’t want to have to avenge your death."

"You were gonna avenge me?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously. I have a whole playlist prepared. It’s very dramatic. Full orchestras. Latin chanting. Zero skip."

Dad chuckled under his breath, and even Mom’s glare softened.

Lunch was already on the table. Leftovers, but warm. Stir fry and rice. Something crunchy with sesame. The smells grounded me more than I realized I needed. The kind of grounding that came with familiarity.

We sat and ate. Between bites, I told them I stayed over at a friend’s place—"Franz." Blair gave me a quick nod and muttered something about finally meeting the guy friend . I tried to laugh, but something in me twisted. Just thought of him makes me uncomfortable.

I probably overthinking this new feeling he is a decent guy, Maybe because i don’t have any guy friends, well I am sure it will be okay.

That’s what always happen to me anyway.

Afterward, I retreated to my room, dropped my bag by the door, and collapsed face-first onto my bed.

The sheets smelled like old detergent and sleep. I stayed there, motionless, until my phone buzzed.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

[University Announcement]

First class of the semester begins tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. sharp.A school-wide aptitude test will be conducted. Attendance is mandatory.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

I stared at the message.

"Fuck"

Celeste’s POV

She lay on her bed, arms spread wide, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The message lit up her phone screen on the nightstand. She didn’t reach for it. Just read it upside down. The words felt distant, meaningless.

The house was quieter now. Too quiet. The old furniture—gone. The clunky clock with the second hand that ticked too loud—gone.

She should have felt relieved.

Instead, her fingers hovered over Franz’s number, which she took from the group chat.

Just for a moment.

Then she put the phone down, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes.

The ceiling fan kept spinning.

Emphera’s POV

"What the fuck is an aptitude test?"

She muttered it into the void, scrolling through her phone with one hand while the other plucked snacks from a half-eaten bag of cheese puffs beside her head.

Her legs dangled over the headboard, one sock halfway off, eyeliner slightly smeared. Her room was a shrine to controlled chaos—glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, a corkboard of absurd quotes from her friends, and six different plushies sitting in judgment on her shelf.

With a grunt, she flipped upright and sighed like a character in a tragic opera.

"Well," she declared to no one in particular, "guess I’m flunking."

Then she grabbed a notebook, labeled it DEF NOT TEST PREP, and began scribbling nonsense answers to imaginary test questions:

Question 1: What is 2+2?

Answer: Yes.

Question 2: If you drop a cat and a sandwich at the same time—

Answer: The world ends.

While scribbling nonsense she started humming

" love me love me, say that you love me."

this song is stuck in my head now.

Lena’s POV

Lena sat at her desk, biting the tip of her pen.

The test didn’t scare her. She’d always been decent at school. Preparation was safety. Control.

But what scared her was how much everything had changed—and how fast.

Zane—something in his eyes this morning was different. A little more hollow, a little more awake.

She glanced at the group photo they’d taken that evening—Zane holding a Monopoly piece like a trophy, Iris giving him the ultimate side-eye, Emphera mid-shout, and Lena blinking awkwardly like she wasn’t ready.

Franz wasn’t in it.

Why am I even thinking that ?

What is wrong with me ?

She thought drowning her head in the pillow.

Iris’s POV

She already knew where the test rooms were. She’d checked her seat assignment twice. Calculated the average score she’d need to maintain her scholarship. Even reviewed probability curves for standardized formats.

And yet.

She couldn’t stop thinking something is going to happen.

Unknown POV

The phone buzzed in a dark room.

One hand—gloved—reached for it, tapping the screen with care.

"Aptitude test tomorrow, huh?" a low voice murmured. "Let’s see who shows up."

On the wall, a whiteboard filled with names, strings, and photographs glinted under the dim light.

A red circle tightened around one particular name:

Franz.

The screen went black again.

Franz’s POV

Orion was quiet as they left the diner. Empty coffee cups still clinked on the table behind them. Sun spilled onto the streets, washing the pavement in gold.

He looked... steadier. Still a little frayed at the edges, but not unraveling anymore.

"You good?" Franz asked, adjusting his hoodie, tugging the sleeves down over the faded scar on his left wrist.

Orion nodded. "Thanks for today."

Franz offered a casual shrug. "You’re my responsibility now , I’m not letting you crash and burn ok."

They walked for a while, letting the silence breathe. Cars passed. Someone yelled about pizza. A dog barked like it had a vendetta against the sun.

At the corner, Franz stopped.

"This is your stop."

Orion hesitated. "You sure you don’t need help with anything?"

Franz gave him a look.

"No offense," he said, "but I’ve seen you piss your pants."

Orion laughed—embarrassed and startled.

Franz slapped his shoulder lightly. "Keep your phone on. I’ll check in."

"Yeah."

He watched Orion walk off, then pulled out his own phone.

"Old man," he said when the call connected, "keep an eye on Orion and make sure nothing happens to him."

He hung up.

Then the university’s message came through.

Aptitude test, huh?

Franz pulled his helmet over his head. The visor reflected the last sliver of sun across the skyline, turning everything molten.

[ Finally a step toward Quiet life.]

Don’t be so sure just yet.

Franz chuckled.

The engine growled to life beneath him. The world blurred as the bike shot forward, slicing through the city like a blade.

And somewhere, beneath it all, the threads of fate began to tighten.

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A/N

Thanks for reading!

This marks the end of volume 1.

I don’t know what that means but felt like it so here it is