Chapter 31

Nani Hirunkit

The crisp evening air was a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the study hall. After hours of being hunched over textbooks, filling pages with notes, and staring at screens until my vision blurred, stepping outside felt like breaking through the surface after being underwater for too long. The entire campus was thick with stress—students scattered across every available bench, coffee cups littering the tables, hushed conversations about deadlines, and the occasional dramatic groan from someone who had reached their limit.

Exam season was in full force. And it was hell.

Even our group, usually full of chaotic energy, was feeling the weight of it. Win, always the responsible one, had been glued to his laptop for the past three hours, typing away at his research paper like his life depended on it. Dew had put up a fight about studying at first, but after being scolded by Win—and probably bribed with a kiss at some point—he had settled down with his notes, though his focus wavered every ten minutes. Perth and Santa were buried in their own work, occasionally sharing snacks in between flipping through their textbooks. Aou and Boom, despite their constant bickering, were surprisingly diligent, helping each other review.

I should've felt comfortable in the familiar routine. But something felt off.

I adjusted my reading glasses, my fingers idly smoothing over the pages of my notebook as I tried to shake the heavy feeling in my chest.

I wasn't struggling to focus—if anything, the work was the only thing keeping me from thinking too much. But the more I threw myself into it, the more I realized how hollow it felt. Like I was drowning myself in productivity just to avoid whatever was waiting for me when I stopped.

"Nani."

I blinked up at the sound of Win's voice. He was watching me with a small frown, his expression soft but knowing.

"Hmm?" I hummed, pretending like I hadn't just been lost in my thoughts.

"You've been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes," he pointed out, closing his laptop. "Are you even processing anything at this point?"

I hesitated, glancing at my notebook. The notes blurred together for a second before coming into focus again. "I'm fine," I muttered, flipping to the next page just to prove a point.

Win didn't look convinced, but he didn't push.

Dew, however, was never one to let things slide so easily.

"You're always so serious about this stuff," Dew groaned, stretching his arms over his head before dramatically slumping against Win. "Come on, Son, loosen up a little. If you keep overworking yourself, you'll start losing your hair."

I rolled my eyes, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "That's not how that works."

"Stress makes you bald," Dew insisted. "It's a fact. Win, back me up here."

Win sighed, rubbing his temples. "Dew, you stress more than anyone I know, and somehow, your hair is still perfect."

Dew grinned. "Exactly. That means I'm immune."

Win shoved him off, but his lips twitched, betraying his amusement. The brief moment of banter should've felt normal—comforting, even—but my mind still felt too foggy, too weighed down by something I couldn't quite name.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders before reaching for my phone, checking the time. It was later than I thought. Maybe we should take a break.

Then, a voice—too sweet, too familiar—cut through the air like a sharp note in a song.

"Sky!"

I froze.

That voice. I already knew who it belonged to before I even turned my head.

May.

She approached with that same effortless grace, her long hair cascading over her shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips as she beelined straight for Sky. She didn't acknowledge the rest of us—didn't even glance in our direction. Her world had a singular focus, and that focus was currently standing a few steps away from our table.

Without hesitation, she slipped her arm through his, leaning in just enough to make a statement. "I was looking for you."

Sky didn't move away. Didn't tense. Didn't shrug her off.

He just let it happen.

I shouldn't care.

It shouldn't matter.

But something inside me twisted anyway, sharp and unwelcome.

I dropped my gaze to my notebook, forcing my fingers to relax around the pen I was holding. I had no reason to react—no reason to feel anything at all—but my heart didn't seem to get the memo. It was ridiculous.

"Are you coming with me?" May's voice was light, expectant. Like she already knew the answer.

Sky hesitated.

For a split second, his eyes flickered—not toward her, but toward us. Toward me.

I held my breath.

But then he nodded. "Yeah."

And just like that, he left.

May smiled, squeezing his arm as she led him away, her steps light, triumphant. Like she had already won something.

I swallowed, locking my phone screen just so I'd have something to do with my hands. My own reflection stared back at me in the dark glass, my lips pressed in a thin line.

It's fine.

It doesn't matter.

"Unbelievable," Dew muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. I glanced up in time to see the irritated flicker in his expression. Win nudged him, shooting him a warning look.

I wasn't sure if it was because of me or just because Dew had always been protective by nature, but either way, I appreciated it. Even if I'd never admit it out loud.

Boom's gaze flickered to me for a second, unreadable, before he went back to flipping through his notes. No one else seemed to dwell on what just happened. They just kept talking, kept studying, like it wasn't anything worth paying attention to.

I forced myself to smile when Aou cracked a joke, pretended like I hadn't just been distracted moments ago. It was easy. I'd had years of practice.

-----------------

It's late. Later than it should be.

The university halls are emptier now, but not silent. There's still the soft hum of vending machines, the occasional shuffle of papers, the distant murmurs of students who haven't quite given up yet. The air is thick with exhaustion, with quiet determination—people buried in their books, hunched over laptops, too stubborn to call it a night.

I push my glasses up, rubbing the bridge of my nose where they've left a faint mark. I should go home. I know that. But stopping feels like a mistake. If I stop, the weight of everything I've been avoiding will settle in, and I can't have that. Not tonight.

A yawn breaks the silence beside me. Win rubs his eyes, stretching like a cat before shooting a look at Dew, who has his head buried in his arms. "We should call it a night."

Dew groans. "Five more minutes."

"You said that half an hour ago." Win nudges his shoulder, but Dew doesn't move.

I glance at my watch. Past midnight.

I blink. It had been 10 PM just a moment ago.

"You good?" Win's voice pulls me back.

I hesitate for just a second before nodding. "Yeah. Just... finishing up."

Win doesn't look convinced. He reaches out and tugs at the sleeve of my sweater, the way someone would with a younger brother. "You're not gonna drop dead on us, right?"

I let out a quiet huff, shaking my head. "Not today."

Dew groans again but finally sits up. "Okay, okay. Let's pack up. Before Win starts acting like a worried mom."

Win smacks his arm without looking, already stuffing his books into his bag.

We gather our things slowly, reluctant to leave but knowing we have to. The exhaustion sits heavy in my bones, but beneath it, there's something else—something harder to name. A weight, an ache, an unspoken thing that lingers even as we step outside.

The air is sharp and cool against my skin. The world feels still, like the night is holding its breath. Win stretches with a groan, and Dew leans into him, half-asleep on his feet. I watch them for a second before shifting my gaze upward, toward the sky.

Tomorrow, we'll do it all over again.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Because that's how it is. That's how it has to be.

I let out a slow breath, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

Then I keep walking to the parking lot to my car.