Elise didn't knock.
She didn't have to. Ren had given her the spare key two days ago.
She let herself in, the sound of the lock clicking behind her soft and deliberate. She wore a different shade of lipstick than usual.
Her hair was undone, falling in effortless waves past her shoulders. Casual, but not accidental.
The apartment was quiet. Ren was on the couch, laptop open, editing a video. He didn't look up.
"You're early," he said.
She dropped her bag beside the door and walked in like she'd done it a hundred times before.
Sat on the armrest near him and peered at the screen.
"B-roll again?" she teased. "You've been staring at the same clip for ten minutes."
"I want it to land right," Ren muttered.
"You want her to see it."
That earned her a glance.
"You're not subtle," she said, smirking. "But I'm not mad about it."
She slipped down from the armrest onto the couch cushion, her shoulder brushing his.
Her legs folded under her neatly, her perfume catching in the warm air between them. It smelled expensive. Deliberate.
Ren didn't move away.
"You've been working too hard," Elise said, voice low. "You deserve to let go a little."
"I'm fine."
"You're tired."
Her hand found his knee.
He didn't flinch.
Just looked at her.
Measured.
And quiet.
"You don't have to act like I'm made of glass," she said. "I'm not asking for your heart. Just your attention."
Her fingers trailed upward.
Ren still didn't move.
The moment stretched.
And then—
The knock.
Hard.
Urgent.
Elise tensed. "Don't."
But Ren had already stood, walking to the door, confused.
He opened it—
And there she was.
Lira.
Soaked in rain, eyes red, chest heaving like she'd run the whole way there.
"Elise," she said without preamble. "Get out."
Elise stood, slow, cold fury crawling up her spine.
"You don't get to tell me where I belong."
"This isn't about you," Lira snapped. "This is about him. You're using him."
Ren looked between them, stunned silent.
Elise crossed her arms. "You sound insane."
"No, I sound desperate," Lira said. "Because I know what this is. I know you. You're twisting this into something it's not. And I'm not going to stand here and let you do it."
Elise smiled coldly. "And what exactly are you going to do, Lira? Cry again? Run away again?"
Lira stepped forward, into the apartment now, soaked shoes leaving prints on the floor.
She looked at Ren.
"Tell me you don't see it. Tell me you really believe this is about you."
Ren's eyes flickered.
Elise's voice was soft. "Ren… don't let her guilt you. You've been happier lately, haven't you? Clearer. Freer. That's not a coincidence."
And maybe it was true.
Maybe Ren had laughed more.
Maybe the weight had lifted, bit by bit.
But in that moment, with Lira drenched in the doorway, shaking with grief and rage and something deeply human—
He saw it.
She wasn't being petty.
She was breaking.
"Elise," he said quietly. "Can you give us a minute?"
Elise froze.
That wasn't what she expected.
Not after everything.
She gathered her things in silence. Didn't slam the door behind her. Didn't say goodbye.
Just left.
Lira stood there for a long second before collapsing onto the couch.
She didn't speak.
Didn't cry.
Just breathed.
Ren sat beside her.
…
Lira didn't sleep that night. She sat on the couch for hours after Elise left, her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes fixed on the same corner of the coffee table where a bead of water had fallen from her soaked sleeve. It had dried long ago. Still, she stared.
Ren moved around her carefully. He brought her a towel. Made tea. Lit the low lamp on the side table instead of turning on the overheads. But he didn't speak. Not until she did.
"I felt like I was going to throw up," she said finally, voice cracked. "When I saw you both…"
He looked at her then, not surprised. Just quietly devastated.
"I didn't know what she was going to do," he said. "I didn't plan that."
"But you let her."
A pause.
"I did."
It hurt more that he admitted it.
Lira's voice shook. "Do you like her?"
"No."
"Then why?"
Ren ran a hand through his hair. "Because it was easy. Because I've been playing the long game and got caught up in a side quest."
Lira almost laughed, bitter and raw. "This isn't a game."
"I know."
She looked at him, finally. "Then stop acting like it is."
His eyes held hers. "You're right."
The words didn't fix anything, but they were a start.
They sat in silence, the clock ticking louder with each passing second. The warmth of the tea did little to thaw the ice in the room.
"I trusted you," Lira whispered. "You were the only one who stood by me. When they all watched and stayed silent, you moved. But now… I don't know who you are."
Ren's expression softened. "I haven't changed. I just… forgot how personal this was becoming. I let myself drift."
"And Elise?"
"She's not important."
"Then why did you let her touch you like that?"
Ren didn't answer right away.
Because there wasn't a clean answer.
"It was part of the act," he said, slower now. "But I didn't stop it soon enough. And that's on me."
Lira swallowed the lump in her throat. "Then stop. Stop whatever this is."
He nodded. "I will."
But the damage lingered.
…
The next morning, Elise stood in front of the mirror a little longer than usual. Her makeup was flawless.
Her hair a perfect cascade. The outfit—calculated. Polished. Sweet. Not too rich, not too desperate. Just enough to say: I'm in control.
But the mirror didn't flatter her anymore.
It showed her everything she'd tried to hide.
The crack under her eye where sleep had fled.
The twitch in her lip when she smiled too wide.
The girl behind the glass looked like someone trying to be redeemed.
Trying too hard.
At school, eyes followed her again—but not with awe.
Curiosity. Wariness. A little disgust.
She smiled at them all.
Pretended not to notice the shift in their gazes.
Lira wasn't at school.
That felt like a victory.
Until Ren wasn't either.
And the questions started.
"Did you really steal her boyfriend?" someone whispered near the lockers.
"I heard she forced her way into his apartment," another muttered.
"She's just trying to save face. Her dad's losing influence."
Elise kept walking.
Head high. Heels steady.
But something in her burned. Not rage—something lower. Hungrier.
She needed to fix this. Fast.
…
By evening, she had a plan.
She posted a photo of Ren and her sitting together on a bench. It was innocent. Just a smile. Nothing more.
But the caption read: Progress sometimes means letting go of old fears.
It exploded within hours.
Fans debated it. Students reposted. Speculation exploded.
Lira saw it in her inbox. She didn't click. Didn't need to.
The picture burned into her memory all the same.
She paced her room, heartbeat skittering like glass marbles on tile.
Ren hadn't answered her texts all day.
And the silence said more than words ever could.
The ache in her chest wasn't jealousy. Not exactly. It was betrayal. Confusion. Fear.
Because this wasn't just about a boy.
It was about trust. Recovery. The fragile walls she'd rebuilt around herself—and how quickly Elise had found the cracks.
…
Elise, on the other hand, waited at the park bench where the photo was taken, hoping lightning would strike twice.
But Ren didn't show.
Only the wind answered.
Still, she smiled.
Because the game wasn't over.
It was just getting interesting.