When the battleground shifts from private to public, even the smallest gestures become acts of defiance.
The rest of the week passed in a fog of tension.
Vanessa didn't speak to her mother after Wednesday's disastrous lunch. Catherine tried calling—twice on Thursday, three times on Friday—but Vanessa let every call go to voicemail. She listened to the messages once, heard the carefully controlled tone masking desperation, and deleted them.
Gregory called too, more measured, asking her to "give your mother some grace—she's going through something."
Vanessa didn't return his calls either.
Instead, she threw herself into school and into Ethan. They studied together, ate lunch together, walked to classes together. To anyone watching, they seemed inseparable.
But Ethan noticed the small things. The way Vanessa checked her phone compulsively, even though she wasn't answering it. The way she'd zone out mid-conversation, her eyes distant. The way she held onto him a little tighter, as if afraid he might disappear.
"You okay?" he asked on Friday afternoon as they walked across campus.
"Fine," she said automatically. Then, catching herself: "Sorry. I know I keep saying that."
"You don't have to pretend with me."
"I'm not pretending. I'm just..." She searched for the word. "Coping."
"By ignoring your mom?"
"By protecting myself." Vanessa's voice was firm. "If I talk to her right now, I'll say something I can't take back. So I'm giving us both space."
"That's probably smart."
"Is it? Because it feels like cowardice."
"It's not. It's self-preservation." Ethan squeezed her hand. "You get to decide when you're ready to engage with her again. Not her."
Vanessa managed a small smile. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've been taking notes from this really smart girl I know."
She laughed—genuine and brief, but real. "I love you."
"I love you too."
They were passing the student center when someone called out.
"Vanessa! Hey, V!"
They turned to see Madison Park approaching, Sophie trailing behind her. Ethan felt Vanessa tense immediately.
"Madison," Vanessa said coolly. "Sophie."
"We've been trying to reach you all week," Madison said, her tone somewhere between concerned and accusatory. "You've been ignoring the group chat."
"I've been busy."
"Too busy for your friends?"
"You're not my friends, Madison. We established that weeks ago."
Madison's expression hardened. "Right. Because we're not good enough for you anymore now that you're dating—" She glanced at Ethan dismissively. "—him."
"His name is Ethan."
"I know his name." Madison's smile was sharp. "Everyone knows his name. He's quite the campus celebrity. The poor scholarship kid who took down Marcus Chen and landed the richest girl at Silverbrook."
Ethan felt his jaw tighten, but before he could respond, Vanessa stepped forward.
"We're done here, Madison."
"Are we? Because I heard some interesting things about you lately."
"I don't care what you heard."
"You should. People are talking, V. Saying you've changed. That you're not yourself anymore." Madison's voice took on a false sympathy. "Some people are even saying you're only with him to rebel against your parents. That it's all just a phase."
Vanessa went very still. "Who's saying that?"
Madison shrugged. "Does it matter? The point is, people are noticing. Your reputation is tanking. And for what? For someone who—"
"Madison, stop," Sophie said quietly.
"What? I'm just being honest—"
"You're being cruel. And we should go." Sophie looked at Vanessa apologetically. "I'm sorry, V. She didn't mean—"
"Yes, I did." Madison crossed her arms. "Someone needs to tell her the truth. She's throwing away her entire social standing for a guy who'll probably dump her the second he graduates and finds someone more... suitable."
The words hung in the air like poison.
Ethan felt something cold and sharp settle in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but Vanessa beat him to it.
"You know what, Madison? You're right. My reputation is tanking. Because I spent three years building a reputation on being friends with people like you—shallow, cruel, obsessed with status over substance. And now that I'm with someone who actually has character? Yeah, people are talking. Because apparently, choosing kindness over cruelty is controversial."
Madison's face flushed. "You're making a mistake—"
"The only mistake I made was wasting time on people who measure worth by bank accounts and last names." Vanessa took Ethan's hand. "We're done here. Come on, Ethan."
They walked away, leaving Madison sputtering and Sophie looking genuinely remorseful.
Once they were out of earshot, Ethan glanced at Vanessa. "You okay?"
"No. But I will be." Her voice was shaking slightly. "God, I used to be friends with her. What does that say about me?"
"That you've grown. That's all."
"Is what she said true? Are people really saying I'm just rebelling? That this is a phase?"
"Probably. People always have opinions." Ethan stopped walking and turned to face her. "But do you know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think people like Madison can't comprehend the idea that someone would choose authenticity over status. So they invent narratives that make sense to them. Rebellion. Phase. Whatever." He cupped her face gently. "But we know the truth. This isn't a phase. This is real."
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears. "She said you'd dump me once you found someone more suitable."
"Then she's an idiot. There is no one more suitable. There's just you."
She kissed him right there in the middle of campus—not caring who saw, not caring who judged.
When they pulled apart, Ethan noticed several students watching them. Some smiled. Others whispered. A few took photos.
"We're definitely going to end up on social media again," he said.
"Good. Let them post it." Vanessa took his hand. "I'm tired of hiding. Tired of worrying about what people think."
"You sure about that?"
"No. But I'm going to pretend I am until it becomes true."
Ethan laughed. "That's my girl."
That evening, Ethan had his shift at Harlow's.
The restaurant was busy—Friday night dinner rush—and he barely had time to think, which was a blessing. He needed the distraction.
Around seven-thirty, a familiar face walked in.
Professor Nguyen.
Ethan almost dropped the tray he was carrying. His professor had never come to the restaurant before. He approached the host stand, saw Ethan, and smiled.
"Mr. Cross. Fancy meeting you here."
"Professor Nguyen. Hi." Ethan set down the tray. "Are you here for dinner?"
"I am. Party of two. My wife should be here shortly." Nguyen glanced around. "Is this where you work? I had no idea."
"Yeah. Part-time. Evenings and weekends mostly."
"Impressive. Managing that schedule on top of your coursework." Nguyen looked genuinely admiring. "How do you do it?"
"Carefully. And with a lot of coffee."
Nguyen laughed. "I believe it." The hostess approached to seat him, and he turned back to Ethan. "I'll request your section, if that's alright? I'd enjoy the company."
"Of course."
Ten minutes later, Ethan found himself taking Professor Nguyen's order. His wife—a warm, friendly woman named Lisa who taught high school English—asked him about school, about his major, about his plans after graduation.
"Ethan's one of my best students," Nguyen told her. "Possibly the best I've had in years."
Ethan felt his face heat. "Professor—"
"I'm serious. Your work on the last project was exceptional. The way you approached the algorithm optimization showed real creative thinking."
"Thank you, sir."
"Have you thought about summer internships? There's a program I think you'd be perfect for."
Ethan hesitated. "I usually work full-time in the summer. I need the income."
"I understand. But this particular program—it's with a major tech company in Silicon Valley. Very prestigious. The experience alone would be invaluable for your career." Nguyen paused. "It's extremely competitive, but with your skills and academic record, I think you'd have a real shot."
"Is it paid?"
Nguyen's expression shifted slightly. "It provides a stipend. Enough to cover basic living expenses while you're there—housing, food, transportation. But it's not substantial. Maybe fifteen hundred, two thousand a month depending on the company."
Ethan did the math instantly. That was half—maybe less—than what he made at Harlow's during the summer when he worked full-time.
"So I'd actually lose money," he said.
"In the short term, yes. But the long-term benefits—" Nguyen leaned forward slightly. "Ethan, an internship like this could mean the difference between starting at fifty thousand a year and starting at eighty or ninety thousand. The connections you'd make, the experience, the name recognition on your resume—that's life-changing."
"For someone who can afford to take the hit for one summer."
"I know it's not ideal given your circumstances." Nguyen's tone was sympathetic. "But sometimes you have to invest in your future, even when it's difficult. Think of it as taking one step back to take three steps forward."
"I'll think about it," Ethan said, though he was already certain the answer was no.
He couldn't afford to lose three months of income. Not with his mom's medical bills. Not with Lily's school expenses. Not with rent and groceries and everything else that required his paycheck.
No matter how good the opportunity was.
"Applications are due in January," Nguyen said. "If you decide you're interested, I'd be happy to write you a recommendation. Multiple faculty members would, I'm sure."
"I appreciate that. Really."
As Ethan walked away to put in their order, his mind was spinning.
Silicon Valley. Major tech company. Career-changing opportunity.
And completely out of reach.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Vanessa.
Vanessa: Missing you. How's the shift?
Ethan: Busy. But good. Professor Nguyen is here. Just suggested I apply to some tech internship in Silicon Valley.
Vanessa: Really?? That's amazing!
Ethan: It's complicated. Doesn't pay enough to actually support my family for the summer.
Vanessa: But if there's a stipend? Enough to cover your expenses there?
Ethan: Still not enough to send money home. I'd basically be working for free while my family struggles.
Vanessa: But the career benefits could be huge. We could figure something out. Together.
Ethan stared at the text.
We can figure it out. Together.
There was that word again. Together.
But what did that mean, practically? That Vanessa would help support his family while he was gone? That felt wrong. Like exactly the kind of thing her mother accused him of—using Vanessa's resources.
But what was the alternative? Giving up opportunities because of pride?
He didn't have time to think about it now. Table six needed their check, table eight wanted dessert, and table four had been waiting too long for their entrees.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket and got back to work.
Late that night, after his shift ended and he was riding the bus home, Ethan's phone rang.
Vanessa.
"Hey," he answered. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
"Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind." She paused. "I talked to my dad tonight. He called and I actually answered."
"How did that go?"
"Better than expected. He apologized for my mom's behavior. Said she's not doing well. That she's refusing therapy and getting more anxious." Vanessa's voice was tight. "He asked me to be patient with her."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd try. But that I wasn't going to break up with you to make her feel better."
"How did he respond?"
"He said he didn't expect me to. That he supports us." Vanessa sighed. "But Ethan, he sounded worried. Really worried. About her, I mean. I think she's getting worse."
Ethan closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"It feels like it is."
"Well, it's not." Vanessa was quiet for a moment. "Ethan, can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"Are you happy? With us? With everything?"
The question caught him off guard. "Of course I am. Why would you ask that?"
"Because this is so much harder than it should be. My mom, Madison, people talking—it's constant drama. And I keep thinking... maybe you'd be happier with someone simpler. Someone whose family isn't a disaster."
"Vanessa—"
"I'm serious. I wouldn't blame you if—"
"Stop." Ethan's voice was firm. "I'm exactly where I want to be. With you. Drama and all."
"Even though it's exhausting?"
"Even though it's exhausting." He paused. "Are you happy?"
"Yes. But I'm also terrified."
"Of what?"
"That my mom is going to keep escalating. That she's going to do something that forces me to choose between you and my family. And I don't know what I'll do if that happens."
Ethan's chest tightened. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"But if it does?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together."
There was that word again.
Together.
It felt like a promise and a question all at once.
"I love you," Vanessa whispered.
"I love you too. Now go to sleep. It's almost midnight."
"Okay. Goodnight, Ethan."
"Goodnight."
The call ended, and Ethan sat on the bus, watching the city lights blur past the window.
Everything was getting more complicated.
But one thing remained simple: he loved Vanessa Monroe.
And somehow, that had to be enough.