Amelia didn't sleep. The lawyer's hissed words auditors, prison, liability echoed in the dark, a sinister soundtrack to her racing thoughts. The vague, ominous pressure she'd sensed around Adrian had now crystallized into something concrete and terrifying. He wasn't just moody or conflicted; he was under siege, and the stakes were catastrophic.
She couldn't pretend she hadn't heard. She couldn't go back to trading barbs in class, wondering why he was being distant. The time for subtlety was over.
The next day, she waited for him after their literature seminar. She didn't give him a chance to flee. As he stood to leave, she blocked the aisle.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice low but firm. "Now."
A flicker of panic crossed his face before the mask of cool indifference slammed down. "I have a meeting."
"Cancel it." She held her ground, her gaze unwavering. "Or I'll have the conversation right here. Your choice."
He studied her face, saw the resolve there, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He gave a tight nod and followed her out of the building. She led him not to the library or a quiet bench, but to the one place she knew they would be completely alone and unheard: the top level of the nearly deserted campus parking garage. The wind whipped around them, carrying the distant sounds of the city.
He leaned against a concrete pillar, shoving his hands in his pockets, his posture defensive. "Well? Talk."
"Who was he?" Amelia demanded, crossing her arms against the chill and her own nerves.
"Who?"
"The man in the suit. The one talking about auditors and prison." She let the word hang between them, stark and ugly. "Don't you dare lie to me, Adrian. Not after the balcony. Not after this."
He flinched as if she'd struck him. The mask cracked, revealing the raw exhaustion and fear beneath. He looked away, towards the skyline. "His name is Mr. Sterling. The family's lead corporate counsel."
"And what 'game' is he talking about? What is it that's going to unravel?"
"It's… complicated. Corporate stuff. You wouldn't understand." It was a weak, transparent deflection, and they both knew it.
"Try me," she shot back, her voice sharp with frustration. "I understand the word 'prison,' Adrian. I understand that you've been pulling away because your father told you to. I'm not an idiot. Stop treating me like one."
The accusation hit its mark. He turned on her, his eyes blazing with a sudden, fierce intensity. "That's not what this is about! You think I'm pushing you away because my father told me to? This isn't about him!"
"Then what is it about?" she cried, throwing her hands up. "One minute you're telling me I'm the only real thing in your life, and the next you're looking at me like a stranger! You can't just drop a bomb like that and then go radio silent!"
"It's about you, Amelia!" he exploded, the words ripped from him. He pushed off the pillar, standing tall, his frustration finally boiling over. "Don't you get it? This isn't some drama club production! This is my life! It's a fucking nightmare! And every second you spend anywhere near me, you're being dragged into it!"
He began to pace, a caged animal. "That 'corporate stuff'? It's fraud. On a massive scale. The wealth, the foundation, this university… it's all a house of cards, and it's about to collapse. And when it does, the fallout will destroy everyone in its path. My father will make sure of it."
He stopped in front of her, his chest heaving. "He sees you as a threat. A variable he can't control. And he deals with threats. So yes, I've been distant. Because every text, every conversation, every moment I spend with you is a flashing neon sign over your head that says 'TARGET'."
The truth, laid bare, was so much worse than she had imagined. It wasn't just pressure; it was systemic corruption. It wasn't just a difficult father; it was a criminal who saw her as an obstacle.
All the anger drained out of her, replaced by a cold, clear understanding. He wasn't pushing her away because he wanted to. He was trying to protect her.
The wind howled around them, whipping her hair across her face. She looked at him, truly looked at him—the boy carrying the weight of a crime he didn't commit, trying desperately to shield her from the blast radius.
"You're an idiot," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the wind.
He stared at her, stunned by the quiet condemnation.
"You think pushing me away is keeping me safe?" she continued, taking a step toward him. "You think I don't see the shadows under your eyes? You think I don't hear the fear in your voice? You're drowning, Adrian. And you're trying to shove away the only person on the shore who can see you."
Her eyes glistened, but her voice was steady. "I'm not asking for the corporate secrets. I'm not asking to be your partner in crime. I'm asking you to stop lying to me. Stop pretending you're fine. Stop carrying this alone."
Adrian's defiant posture crumbled. The fight went out of him, leaving only a profound, exhausted vulnerability. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw not a liability, but an ally.
"I'm scared, Amelia," he whispered, the admission a raw surrender.
"I know," she said, closing the final distance between them. "I am too."
She didn't hug him. She didn't touch him. She just stood there, a solid, unwavering presence in the middle of the storm he called his life.
The confrontation was over. The walls were down. And for the first time, they were truly on the same side.