Well done eveyone for reading the last chapter, I know it was hard 😭 It really was hard for me to write as well, I put a little of my personal experience in the writing of Emile especially so I really needed to rest my brain after that! I hope that you all took some time to rest as well, and recharge in a way that was good for you 💖

Thank you also for the lovely comments and reviews: Psy-Kick, Ellis Tobias, Natsuki Sawada, etolili, saradasara, lala1224, LightXCVII, and greypotato - your words were so kind and lovely, I read them over and over again. Thank you so much 💖 I cannot tell you how much your support really keeps me going!

I also just want to say a HUGE thank you to sweetwater_doodles for another awesome artwork! This time we have a snapshot of the Forger Dinner Disaster in Chapter 77, which STILL makes me laugh 😂 You can check it out on her instagram sweetwater_doodles

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please look after yourself 💖

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A door slammed in the Forger residence, and Loid glanced up briefly from his book.

"Anya, please don't-"

Anya stormed through to her room, and slammed the door again.

Loid closed his book carefully, slotting a bookmark into the last page, and slowly got to his feet. It was rare for Anya to be this upset, and he didn't know how it affected her telepathy, so he intentionally added sound to his footsteps so that she could at least hear him approaching, and he gently rapped his knuckle at her door.

"Anya?" he called out, leaning his head near the door to hear inside. At the sound of her soft cries, Loid made an instant decision.

"Anya, I'm coming in."

He cracked the door open, and the ribbon of light from the corridor painted a stripe across Anya's form, curled up on her bed and shaking from her tears.

Loid racked his memory, trying to think of any recent stressors that would have triggered negative emotions in Anya. The exams weren't for another three months, and as far as he could tell, she and Becky had had no fights, and her relationship with Damian seemed to be going well. So what could it be?

Well. He would have to ask anyway.

"Is everything okay?"

Anya mumbled something into her pillow that Loid couldn't quite hear, but through a mix of guesswork and top-down processing, he surmised that she said something along the lines of 'It's all my fault'.

With one foot already in her room, Loid paused. Raising Anya was never an easy task for a lot of reasons, but Loid found the most elusive part of parenthood was learning how to help tenagers learn to cope with their emotions. In that sense, Anya was much more advanced than other children her age, and Loid was grateful for that, but he also understood that Anya had to cope with more things than the average teenager ever would.

He just wished that he knew how to help…

Loid lowered himself on the edge of her bed, careful not to sit on her feet. He reached out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder - or at least, he hoped it was comforting enough.

"What's wrong, Anya?" he whispered, his voice low and laced with worry. It had been a long time since he had seen her like this.

Maybe his hand on her shoulder did provide some comfort after all, or maybe it was his genuine desire to help her, but soon Anya was at last able to take a deep, shuddering breath.

"Take your time, it's alright…" Loid continued, hoping that something would work. Her shoulders shook beneath his gentle touch, and every sob that broke through her hands broke his heart just a little bit.

"Papa, I…" She started, and lifted her tear-stained face from her hands. "I really messed up."

Loid's stomach dropped, his mind racing to the worst conclusion he could think of. It couldn't have happened at last, could it? Could she have finally -

"I'm not on Expulsion Order. I didn't get a Bolt," Anya mumbled, and wiped her eyes. "Damian knows about Plan B."

"Ah," said Loid, although he furrowed his brow in confusion. Damian already knew that he was a spy, and investigating his father, and he knew that Anya was adopted, so why didn't he already know? Surely Anya would have -

Unless, Anya never spoke to him about it explicitly, and he didn't quite put the pieces together?

Her eyes filled with more tears as she looked up at her father, and Loid sighed, understanding immediately that he had reached the right conclusion. So it really had come down to that…

"He knows how awful I am," she sniffed. "He knows that our whole relationship was built on a lie and… I think…"

She said the next part very quietly.

"I think he doesn't love me anymore."

"Oh, Anya…"

On instinct, Loid opened up his arms to Anya, and she dived towards him, weeping against his jumper as he stroked her hair. She scrunched the back of his jumper with her fists, while her tears slowly dampened the wool, and his shirt beneath it, but Loid said nothing, focusing only on the fact that his daughter was heartbroken, and it was his job to help her through it.

He turned over her words in his mind. In his heart, he knew that the words weren't true. There wasn't a universe in which Damian could stop loving Anya for something like this, not after all that they had been through together - but this was not the right time for those kinds of sentiments. Anya had a broken heart now, and Loid knew that no matter what he would say, that feeling wouldn't go away so easily.

Loid tried desperately to think of something to say, but Anya didn't wait for him to get his thoughts together, and her misery poured out of her.

"Why did it have to be like this? I didn't want to do this! I told you I couldn't do this and now - now - it's all wrong and I can't take any of it back!"

A gasping sob escaped her, and Loid's heart twisted in on itself.

"Why is it that everything I do hurts him?"

Loid could only hold her helplessly, while he was lost for words. He couldn't think of how to help her, and it only made him feel worse.

Eventually, Loid sighed, letting his head droop over hers as he continued to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry. The mission should never have affected you the way it has…"

At that, Anya only sobbed even louder, as though she had been holding back the whole time.

"It's not fair!" She cried. "It doesn't matter! Because you were the one that had to adopt me! You had to be the one that came to the orphanage that I was in, and I was the only one who knew that you were a spy and you needed a child! So I tried to do everything to help you! But you had to be the one to go after his father, and put me in his class, and now nothing I do matters because I was just made to hurt him!"

Loid tightened his hold on her as a wave of guilt rushed over him, because he knew that she was right. As much as Anya had been helping him with the mission the whole time, she was also only a child, and he could have kicked himself for missing the signs. How could he have missed that she was in so much pain?

"I'm sorry," said Loid, sincerely. His voice scratched at the back of his throat, thick with sadness for her, and for both of them, and the situation that they had been inextricably woven in. The damp patch on his jumper had soaked through to his skin, but he continued to cradle her. "You didn't deserve any of this."

"Damian doesn't - deserve it -" Anya corrected, still crying hard.

Loid swallowed hard, fixing his gaze on some shadowed corner of Anya's room in an effort to keep himself focused on something, though he could never ignore the awful sounds of her sobs. He hated that she was right. Loid had definitely had those thoughts before - that he shouldn't involve a child, that it was underhanded to focus so hard on the target's son - but Twilight wasn't allowed to have thoughts like that. He couldn't afford to question his mission. He just did as he was ordered, and if the mission had consequences down the line… Well, that was beyond his pay grade. He never dealt with the consequences.

Deep down, even Twilight knew that involving a child in the mission would have irreversible consequences. Didn't he admit it to himself in the first week? But then Anya had begged him to stay…

Loid's breath stuttered in his chest. How could he have forgotten? She knew from the start. She knew he was going to abandon her, and she did what was in her power to make sure that she could keep the tiny family that she had made.

Not for the first time, Loid's eyes stung, and he tried to bink it away. I'm so sorry, Anya, I should have known…

He should have never accepted the mission.

But if he hadn't…

Loid stroked Anya's pink hair, mindful of the placement of her hair cones. He thought of the days when she used to be so much smaller, when she was so small that she barely came up to his knee. When she used to hide behind her legs when she was shy. She was bigger now, but no less wild and adventurous. Twelve years had gone past in the blink of an eye.

His eyes travelled to the rest of her room. To the Spy Wars posters that adorned her wall, frayed and sun-bleached with age, to the stuffed toys on her bed, hugged to death until they were worn and lopsided. The mountain of books on her shelf even still had a few of her childhood favourites, along with her schoolbooks, no doubt ruined with food stains, annotations and scribbles. The wallpaper had changed, but the glow-in-the-dark stars had stayed on her ceiling throughout it all.

His mantra for twelve years played in his head: Remember your mission, Twilight. A spy must not have any attachments. This is not your real family.

And yet, the girl in his arms had grown into a young woman. One who had secretly helped him carry out his mission until the end. Who sacrificed so much, that he would never be able to repay her. Who called him 'Papa', from that first day.

Twilight knew the consequences.

And Loid was the one who would bear them.

"I'm grateful I accepted this mission," Loid decided firmly, but quietly. "I'm grateful that I have you and Yor in my life. And, I will never stop being sorry for what I've done to you."

Anya looked up at him through her tears, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone, as he sighed, readying himself for what he would say next.

"I'm sure that if you and Damian talk it through, he will understand everything," he said, as he pushed a lock of her wet hair from her face, but to his dismay, Anya only looked down, and her lip started to wobble.

"He does understand. That's why it's hurting him so much."

He didn't know what to say to that.

Yor had resolved that she wouldn't ask Loid any more about it until Anya had fallen asleep, which proved to be a very long time to wait. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Yor decided it was time, when the sound of Anya's tossing and turning finally ceased, and she reached out a tentative hand to her husband.

But of course, she didn't need to touch him to wake him. Just the shifting movement of her arm was enough for Loid's eyes to flash open, fully alert, and he turned to her instantly.

"Yor?"

Even in the darkness, Yor could see the lovely sky-blue of his eyes, and she ached to see the pain contained within them.

"Do you think…" Yor began, and she collected herself. "Do you think Anya will be alright?"

"Anya is more resilient than any of us," he surmised in a whisper, conviction in every word, but while he had said it with confidence, Yor noticed a hint of uncertainty beneath the surface.

Loid was telling the truth, in that he did believe in Anya's strength and her resilience, even if it pained him to see her in so much despair - but there was something else he was hiding, Yor was sure of it.

She searched his face for a sign, and gasped when she found it.

"You're more worried about Damian, aren't you?"

Loid looked away guiltily, and Yor softened on him.

"When I was still Twilight…" he began, keeping his voice low, and Yor couldn't help herself. She shuffled closer to him, so his words were only a whisper away.

"I had to covertly assess everyone I came into contact with. Often, multiple times a year, and especially if I was suspicious of any changes. Mission reports and risk assessments don't write themselves," he sighed.

"It sounds like a lot of work for you," said Yor quietly. "And you had to assess Damian as well?"

Loid nodded once, hesitantly. "I have at least twenty reports on him alone. One for every year, and any time I was uncertain, or if the situation changed…" He swallowed. "Or if there was an incident."

Yor ran her thumb along the brow bone of his forehead, trying to smooth the creases that appeared there. A strange habit that they had developed in their relationship, somewhere along the line when it became real.

"It sounds like you know him well enough that you know why he worries you."

He closed his eyes, trying to allow himself to relax under her touch, but after years of being on edge, it was difficult. He could only try to contrate on her gentle touch, and for a moment he admired her restraint in being able to touch him so gently in the first place. All her practice with Anya had really worked.

"I wish there was something I could do," he admitted. "But if what Anya says is right, that he's upset about the friendship scheme that I developed, that I pushed Anya into, then I suspect I'm just about the last person he wants to see. I have my doubts that I would be able to convince him that it was all for the greater good…"

"Let him be upset, Loid," said Yor, and her hand moved to massage the back of Loid's head, her fingertips tangling in his hair. "He has every right to feel angry."

It was subtle, but Yor felt it then. Loid had flinched, so slight that it would have been imperceptible to any other person.

"If I'm right, and I'm terrified that I am, then that's exactly why we should be worried."

Yor released her hold of Loid's short hair in her fingers, and she let his soft locks slide through her finger as she returned to her original position.

"Tell me."

"I don't think I should…"

His hesitation worried her.

"Loid."

She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to. Just her firm tone was enough to tell Loid that she was serious, that whatever he said, she would listen.

Loid opened his mouth. Closed it again. Sighed.

And he told her.

Yor stayed respectfully quiet, letting Loid say as much as he thought was necessary, but it did not take long before she raised her hand to cover her mouth, tears shimmering in her eyes while her heart slowly broke .

Becky was at a loss of what to do.

Anya had turned up to school morose and more miserable than Becky had ever seen her, and she didn't know how to help her.

Even worse, she couldn't ask Damian if anything had happened, because he didn't turn up to school at all. Neither had Ewen or Emile for that matter, and by lunchtime, it seriously started to worry her. It wouldn't have been suspicious if any one of them were absent for one reason or another - but all three of them? At the same time?

Yeah. It started to feel less like something was 'not right', and more like something was seriously wrong.

She wasn't the only one. A strange atmosphere had appeared and enveloped the whole class, not least because the boys were missing from class, but also because none of the teachers seemed surprised, as if they had already been informed, but then if they were informed then why didn't they say anything to the rest of the class? Not only that, but any communication about their absences was only heard as hushed whispers:

"I heard he finally snapped from the pressure. Took too long, if you ask me."

"Right! He had some nerve coming back to school after what his father did, maybe he's finally realised that we're better off without him."

"Maybe Egeburg and Elman died of shame. I would too, if I was associated with him."

It was enough to enrage her, and she would have bitten off the heads of everyone who spoke, but to her surprise, it was Alice who came to the boys' defence.

"Is that really how a student of Eden College should speak?" she said calmly, though her voice easily carried to the students in question. "You should be ashamed of yourselves. They don't give out Stellas for being the Biggest Bitch, you know."

Alice met Becky's eyes briefly and gave her a small, respectful nod, which Becky returned. Her words didn't eradicate the whispers and the rumours, but at least the perpetrators weren't so brazen about it after that.

Becky, ever the straight shooter, had tried asking Anya directly, but that didn't warrant any real information.

"Has something happened between you and Damian?" She lowered her voice over the lunch table, but Anya only pressed her lips together and looked away.

Becky watched Anya stab at her omurice over and over again without eating it, and decided to try a different track.

"Are you ill? Do you want me to take you to the nurse?" Becky pressed on, until Anya sighed.

"We had an… argument," she said quietly. "Don't ask me why, please. I can't really talk about it."

Well, Becky thought to herself. At least that's something .

She tried to cut up her own meat silently, but Becky's mind whirred faster than ever. What did Damian do? Did he go into hiding and take his cronies with him? Was he sick? But then why would Ewen and Emile be missing, too? Was he expelled?

In the back of her mind, Becky was partially-aware that Anya must be hearing all her thoughts and her curiosity, but she kept silent for a reason that only Anya knew, and it only fuelled Becky's overactive imagination and curiosity.

"It's… complicated," Anya said eventually, snapping Becky back into the present. "I would tell you if I could, believe me."

Becky nodded absentmindedly, but her mind didn't stop working. So was it something top-secret? Something highly embarrassing? What did Damian do that he felt too ashamed to show his own face?

"It wasn't anything that he did," Anya continued to play with her food as she whispered. "It was my fault."

"What?" said Becky, as though she had misheard, but at Anya's renewed silence, Becky returned to her pensive state.

It didn't make sense. How could they have an argument? This was Damian and Anya, they were perfect for each other! So there was no way in hell that they had an argument that was that bad, and Damian was probably overreacting, right? It was just a fact that Damian Desmond was hopelessly in love with Anya Forger, and nothing could change that. Or at least, Becky couldn't physically imagine that could change…

"Becky," Anya sighed again, hiding her face behind her hair. "Please. It's already hard enough as it is."

Becky slammed her fork on the table. "But I don't understand!" she cried, trying her best to keep her voice low enough so that only Anya could hear, but it was hard, and her thoughts tumbled out of her. "He loves you! And there's no way that would ever change! How could you have had a fight? What could possibly be this bad?"

To Becky's horror, huge tears flowed freely down Anya's cheeks. She didn't even try to hide them.

"I'm the one that messed up," Anya said again, but this time, her voice wavered so audibly that it pulled at Becky's own heart. "I'll never be able to make it up to him."

Becky paused.

On some level, she did understand that Anya, her best friend, had secrets that she could never tell anybody else. At the same time, it didn't make it any easier to help her because of the simple fact that she didn't know how.

"Is it something to do with…" Becky began, before quickly realising that her thoughts were not ones that she could say it out loud.

Becky remembered the day that Donovan Desmond was arrested. That it was for financing experiments on children. She thought of Anya's own confession.

Before that, I was Test Subject 007.

Becky gulped.

"Is… that why you can't tell me?"

Anya shrugged, once again so despondent that Becky didn't know how to proceed.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

Please , she wanted to add, but didn't. It was so hard just watching her best friend suffer in silence. It was like a ticking time bomb in Becky's own chest, only a matter of time before she would explode.

"How do you make a really good apology?" said Anya quietly, her voice barely carrying between them, and Becky's own heart twisted in her chest. She had never seen Anya so disheartened before, and it scared her.

"Um," Becky's face crinkled in thought. In 'Berlint in Love' it was always the man apologising to the woman - and it usually involved very large bouquets and shiny gifts. And a lot of begging. How did it work the other way round?

"Tell you what," said Becky decisively. "Why don't we brainstorm a bit after school? It sounds like something we would want to put a lot of thought into."

Anya nodded quietly. "Yeah. That'd be good. Thanks, Becky."

Becky would have preferred not to leave her friend alone when she was in this state, but gone were the days where they shared every class together, and Becky was forced to drop Anya off at her Biology class while she herself had to go to Advanced Mathematics. She wouldn't see Anya again until at least the end of the day.

For most students, the walk between the Biology block and the Mathematics block would have been enough of an issue to make them late, but Becky was now an Imperial Scholar, which meant that she was afforded a few more privileges than the average student.

She swept into the Imperial Scholar's corridor, normally restricted to other students, but to Becky it was a convenient way to get around school at a faster pace. (Plus, all the times that she and Bill had used them to steal a few kisses here and there…)

Becky patted her own cheeks, trying to force herself not to blush. While it would be nice to daydream about kissing Bill now, she didn't have enough time. Plus, she would see him anyway in class…

She took her usual seat with a sigh, loud enough that Bill raised an eyebrow at her.

"Damianya," Becky said, by way of explanation, and Bill nodded somberly.

"Why am I not surprised?" he said, like he was only talking about the weather. "Oh, have you picked up your duties yet?"

"Not yet, why?"

"Look," Bill said simply, and handed her his list, which she took a moment to skim over.

"That's weird," said Becky, frowning. "Aren't a lot of these normally given to Damian?"

Bill nodded. "That's what I thought."

"First Damian, Ewen and Emile aren't in class, now his Imperial Scholar duties are being redistributed?" Becky said aloud, chewing on the end of her pen. "What's going on?"

Bill reached down to prod the back of the boy sitting in front of them. "Hey, Glooman. You share a dorm with them, right? Do you know anything?"

"Oh, George!" Becky exclaimed, genuinely delighted. "I forgot you were in this class! This is perfect!"

"I get that a lot," George sighed glumly. "And no, I don't know what happened to Desmond after the medics got there. I assumed they took him away to get cleaned up and stuff, but they haven't been back yet."

"Medics?" Becky squeaked, and she exchanged a concerned glance with Bill.

"Uh," George paled. "Maybe you weren't supposed to know that. Maybe I said too much."

Becky cast a glance over the rest of the classroom, noting that students still filed in, but the teaching had not yet started. She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "When did this happen?"

"Last night, but -" George shook his head. "Now that I think about it, I think I wasn't supposed to say anything. Sorry."

He turned away before Becky could try to lure more words out of him, and disappointingly, the teacher had called for everyone's attention. It was difficult for Becky to concentrate on Advanced Mathematics when all the new information from the day spun in her mind, but she tried to put it to the side while she made notes as the class progressed.

Now that she was an Imperial Scholar, she had a lot more interaction with the main offices than she normally would, and on top of her school work, and running the Blackbell household, and helping her father with his projects for Blackbell Heavy Industries, it was becoming quite the load. Quite frankly, she didn't have time to get distracted, and she needed to use every minute to their full potential.

As soon as the bell rang for the end of the day, Becky leapt from her seat, gathering all her things in one swift movement.

"Gotta go get my list, too! I'll see you later!" She parted from Bill with a kiss and raced into the Imperial Scholar's Corridor with her cloak trailing dramatically behind her.

Becky had only been to the Imperial Administration Office a few times, and every time, she almost didn't make it back out, that was how labyrinthine it was. But if she could look out for the Pastoral Care sign, and then she would be almost -

There!

Around the corner from the Pastoral Care office, a wall of cubby holes faced the wide windows of the corridor. If it was a sunny day, it would have made the space nice and warm to walk into - alas, the cloud cover prevented the warm sunlight from reaching inside, and Becky was grateful for the extra layer of the Imperial Scholar's Cloak..

Becky found the cubbyhole that was labelled with her name and retrieved the envelope within - containing a list of her Imperial Scholar duties for the next week - but a sound from the office nearby made her pause.

The creak of a door opening, and footsteps walking out.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr Egeburg, Mr Elman," said a male voice. "I will let you know if we need anything else."

Becky furrowed her brow. What were Ewen and Emile doing at Pastoral Care?

"Thank you, sir," said a voice that was unmistakably Ewen's, and then the door clicked shut once again.

A pause, and then the two boys sighed at once.

"I'm going straight to bed," Emile yawned. "I can't take another second of this."

"Right there with you," Ewen agreed. "You'd think it would be easier to sleep in a hospital bed. I didn't know it would be so noisy."

"Or bright."

"Or busy."

"It's stupid, honestly. How does anyone get any sleep in there?"

"They don't, I guess…"

"Becky? What are you doing here?"

Suddenly Ewen and Emile had turned the corner, and Becky jumped, clutching the envelope tighter to her chest.

"Getting my Imperial Scholar duties," said Becky, deadpan, and folded her arms in front of her chest. "But the bigger question is: what are you two doing here? And why are you out of uniform?"

"Nothing," said Ewen automatically, then he cringed when Emile nudged him lightly, which did not escape Becky's notice.

They both looked awful, and Becky wouldn't have been surprised if they admitted that they were in yesterday's clothes. Ewen and Emile were both sweaty and unkempt, with rumpled clothes and tired eyes, and both looked like they could collapse at any moment. Emile especially looked like he was just having trouble breathing, while Ewen had a tight expression, like he was in constant pain.

Becky tried again. "Why did you need to see Pastoral Care?"

Ewen and Emile exchanged a grimace, which only riled her up more. Clearly, they were both trying to keep secrets from her, and that was just unacceptable.

"What happened with Damian last night? Why did you all have to go to hospital? Is he still there now? Why did you flinch when Emile nudged you just now?"

The words came out of her like spitfire but she directed the last question to Ewen, and both boys looked mildly alarmed.

"This feels like an interrogation…"

"It is." Becky narrowed her eyes at them menacingly. "Now, spill."

At their awkward silence, Becky sliced through the golden wax seal of her own envelope, and unfolded the signature Eden College embossed paper, holding it in front of them to read.

"Damian's Imperial Scholar duties are being redistributed," she said plainly, tapping a manicured fingernail on the paper. "Why?"

"Er…" said Ewen, and Becky swivelled to him with laser focus. Maybe she would have better results if she targeted them one at a time.

"Has he been expelled? Suspended?"

"What!" exclaimed Ewen. "No -"

"Is this something to do with the argument he had yesterday?"

At that, both boys paused, betraying their own interest, and this time, it was Emile that spoke: "Wait, do you know what happened?"

Becky stared at him in shock as something occurred to her.

"You don't?"

"He didn't say anything to us," said Ewen, shaking his head. "We don't even know why he snapped."

Becky filed the information away, adding it to the growing pile, and decided to take advantage of Ewen's broken silence while she could.

"Can you tell me where he is? Maybe if he and Anya just talked it out, maybe they could -"

At the mere mention of Anya's name, something changed in the air. Ewen tensed, and his face lost all colour, but the biggest reaction came from Emile.

His eyes darkened to a degree that Becky had never seen on him before, and it chilled her to the bone. Emile may have been talented at rugby, second only to Bill, but his aggressiveness on the pitch never, ever showed itself in any other aspect of his life. Emile was the peacemaker. He was the support. He was softness personified.

Goosebumps flared on Becky's skin as static filled the air, like the second before a lightning strike.

"I'm not letting her anywhere near him," Emile seethed. "Not until we know what she did."

His words hit Becky like a thunderclap, and she reeled back.

"That's some cheek of you to blame Anya when you don't even know what happened!" she exclaimed, in a desperate attempt to claw back her own composure. "Anya would never do anything to hurt him!"

"You weren't there, Becky," Emile growled, his voice rumbling in the space between them, and frightened Becky enough that she took a physical step back.

"You didn't see the way he broke down. You didn't have to stop him from hurting himself even more than he already had. You didn't have to clean his blood from your clothes, or from the floor. You didn't have to hear him scream for hours. You didn't have to sit in an ambulance with him, or sacrifice your sleep and stay up all night waiting to hear him speak, to give one shred of an explanation from what happened when your own head is fried to death and you know that you will never forget the sound your best friend makes when he falls apart!"

Emile stopped to draw breath, and while his shoulders heaved from the effort of it, Becky couldn't move, couldn't even speak, and above everything, she still just couldn't wrap her head around it. She didn't understand. What on earth happened? How did they have an argument that was apparently so bad that Damian… that Emile and Ewen… had to see all that…

"Emile, don't push yourself…"

Becky wanted so badly to believe that Emile's words were lies. She didn't want to believe them. They were too horrifying, so far beyond anything she had ever experienced.

She couldn't imagine it. Her mind wouldn't even let her try.

"Emile!"

Ewen's urgent exclamation snapped Becky out of her thoughts, along with the sound of Emile violently coughing, and although he had covered his mouth with his hand, it didn't hide the frothy red droplets that escaped and dripped down to the floor.

"Sorry, Becky," Ewen said, turning the coughing Emile away from her. "We're not really supposed to talk about it, but Emile's right. I really don't think it's a good idea for Damian to see Anya while he's in this state. It's not good for anyone."

Becky opened and closed her mouth in shock, and in a rare moment of uncertainty, she realised that she had no idea what to say, or what to do, but one thing was clear: as much as Becky wanted to protect her best friend, as much as she wanted to fight for her, she couldn't deny that maybe Anya did do something terrible. Maybe Anya really was at fault.

"Do you really…" she stopped, and cleared her throat. "Do you really not know what she did? How are we supposed to fix it if we don't know what happened?"

Ewen drooped, his eyes filled with raw sadness. "Damian did say one thing, when we were waiting for the medics."

He held Becky's gaze, and she swallowed, nervous about what he was going to say.

"He said 'she betrayed me' ."

Ewen didn't sound like he was lying. The words sank into Becky's mind, and for a brief second, she forgot how to breathe. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and Becky tried to wipe them away, but it all happened so fast, and in mere seconds the sorrow had crushed her, too.

"No, it can't be, it can't be, she can't have…" She hiccuped. "It's not possible!"

Because they were Damian and Anya . They were soulmates. They were meant to be. They were supposed to be together forever and always be happy, because Anya deserved nothing less, right? Damian was in love with Anya, and Anya was in love with Damian. That was the truth that Becky had seen from the start, for all twelve years of their school careers. Becky knew in her bones that it was true. So how could this happen? What could possibly possess Anya to… to 'betray' him… whatever that meant…

"I'm really sorry, Becky," Ewen sighed, genuinely remorseful. "I don't think we can fix this."

It was the last thing he said to Becky before he turned away, leading Emile to where they needed to go. Not that Becky would ever know where that was.

Their voices faded away as they put more distance between them.

"Do we need to stop by the infirmary?"

"No, I'm -" More coughing. "I'm fine. The doctors said this might happen."

"If you're sure…"

Becky's feet were glued to the floor, and after a moment, she allowed herself to lean back against the wall, hoping that would absorb some of her shock, but when her legs started to tremble, she slid down the wall, until finally she sat on the floor with her knees pulled close.

More tears flowed out of control, and the paper shook in her hands as she covered her mouth with a sob. She couldn't get over it. How could this happen? How could Anya and Damian create such profound waves that it left her feeling so powerless?

And… Becky couldn't contain her own sense of betrayal. Because why couldn't Anya tell her what happened? What was so bad that she couldn't say it - worse than the secret Becky already knew? Just when Becky finally thought that Anya had trusted her…

Then there was Ewen and Emile. Why did they look like they were in so much pain? Why did Ewen flinch when Emile nudged him, and why did he keep his arm so unnaturally still? And why was Emile struggling to breathe, to the point that he was coughing up blood?

Finally, Damian. Becky wasn't so prideful anymore that she vehemently rejected the notion of being Damian's friend - because hadn't she expressed her support to him? Hadn't she made it clear to him and everyone else that she was on his side after his father's arrest? Didn't she try to help him get closer with Anya for as long as she knew him?

Damian was her friend, too, and he was in pain. That was all it took for her to just want to help. Why couldn't Ewen and Emile see that? Didn't they know that she was their friend, too?

Why wouldn't they just let her help…?

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Next chapter: Saturday 20th April

Becky always finds a way to break my heart 😭 I haven't written from Becky's POV in a while. This was a nice change of pace for me

I LOVED all the music recommendations from the last chapter, it really seems like the actual devastation and heartbreak brought out some feelings in a lot of you that can be best expressed by music. I agree. So if you would like, here are all the recommendations I received, very kindly collated by my friend A into a Spotify playlist (titled "inside an unraveling mind")

Speaking of music, I can't help but feel like the lyrics of this song are really fitting to Anya's situation right now: "Why Can't You Hate Me?" by Munn, I couldn't find a female version but I think it really represents how she feels anyway. For Damian's spiral last chapter I recommend "Thousand Eyes" by Of Monsters and Men, which is added to the Spotify playlist 😅

On another note, I am a little surprised by how many of you thought Damian would be expelled because of this 😂 I'm afraid it would take a LOT more for an elite private school like Eden College to consider expulsion