Wednesday walked down the hall without a change in pace.
No trembling hands. No shallow breaths.
Her spine stayed straight, steps measured the same way they had been moments before she opened that door.
The only difference was the weight behind her eyes, something cold settling like frost on glass.
Revealing anything would have been weakness.
Weakness was beneath her.
She reached the far end of the hall and stopped, fingertips brushing the banister. Not gripping. Not shaking. Just… pausing.
A single breath escaped, thin and level.
"Predictable," she murmured to the empty space, as if the universe had simply aligned with her expectations.
Her expression didn't crack.
She hated cracks.
She pulled a small notebook from her pocket, flipped it open, and scribbled a single line:
"He didn't care"
No judgment. No venom.
Just a fact, the same way she might record cloud formations or the decomposition rate of a corpse.
She closed the notebook and slipped it away, face smooth as a blank page.
Behind her, two floors up, muffled voices drifted through the ceiling.
Enid's worried whisper.
Toji's steady rumble.
She didn't linger on it long. She refused to.
Wednesday descended the stairs, each step deliberate, as if she were conducting her own autopsy in motion.
She had asked for the divorce.
She expected compliance.
She anticipated Enid's affection drifting elsewhere; sunshine rarely stays still.
What she hadn't expected was the faint, uninvited pull in her ribs when she opened that door.
To join Toji and Enid.
A sensation she immediately smothered.
Emotions could be dissected. Avoided. Replaced.
She excelled at that.
She reached the foyer, straightened her collar, and let her face settle fully back into neutrality.
There would be no confrontation.
No accusations.
No melodramatic outburst that would insult her intelligence and her dignity.
She had already made her choice.
He had simply made his.
Simple math.
Clean severance.
And yet…
when she touched the doorknob to leave her dorm room, her fingers hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Half.
She lowered her hand.
Inside her head, the thought bloomed sharp and unwanted:
Enid looked relieved. Like she won a prize that didn't belong to her.
A muscle in her jaw twitched.
Once.
Then stilled.
That was all the reaction she allowed herself.
She stepped outside, letting the morning chill swallow her whole, grateful for the honesty of cold things.
Behind her, the Dorm room stayed silent.
Inside it, two hearts were beating.
Not hers.
---
Morning sat heavy on the room again, the air thick with the ghost of Wednesday's exit.
Enid was spiraling.
Full tornado.
Full doom.
Full "my-best-friend-is-going-to-skin-me-and-wear-me-like-a-coat."
Her breathing was a rapid-fire mess as she paced at the foot of the bed, blanket dragged around her like a dramatic cape.
"She looked so calm! Wednesday never looks that calm unles she's plotting dismemberment!
I'm dead, she's going to hate me forever, she's gonna—"
Toji watched her like someone watching a squirrel run into traffic.
Mild interest.
Minimal concern.
Zero surprise.
"Enid," he said.
She ignored him, wringing the blanket so hard it squeaked.
"She didn't even blink! She always blinks when she's lying or pretending not to care or pretending she does care—what if she actually—what if I ruined everything—"
"Enid."
"—and her voice was so monotone, that's her emotionally-imploding monotone—"
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her in, and kissed her.
Not gentle. Not rough.
Just a very Toji brand solution: quiet, final, commanding.
Enid made a startled noise into his mouth, the kind someone makes when their brain blue-screens.
By the time he pulled back, she was frozen, blanket halfway to the floor, eyes wide and blinking like she forgot how vision worked.
Toji tapped her forehead lightly. "Finally."
She squeaked, "You… you can't just kiss me whenever I'm panicking!"
"You were loud," he said. "And dramatic. And annoying. Kissing was faster."
A sharp, tiny gasp leapt out of her. "Faster?!"
"Yes. Look."
He tilted her chin up so she'd actually meet his eyes instead of melting into vapor.
"Wednesday won't stab you in your sleep."
"That's not reassuring! That's, like, the bare minimum in a friendship!"
"Then congratulations," Toji said. "You cleared the minimum."
She groaned and buried her face in his chest, half mortified, half clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left in the universe.
His hand slid into her hair, steady, slow.
He didn't coddle, but he didn't push her away either.
"She won't do anything," he said quietly. "She made that choice. She's not going to break her own logic by being jealous."
Enid mumbled into his skin, "She wasn't jealous."
Toji didn't bother correcting that.
He just hummed, a deep, calm sound that softened her breathing.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Enid finally peeked up at him, cheeks flushed. "You're sure?"
"Toji nodded. "If she wanted to kill you, she wouldn't knock first."
"That… actually makes me feel worse."
"Not my fault your friend is weird."
"She's not weird," Enid protested weakly.
He gave her a look.{img}
"…okay, she's a little weird," she admitted, pouting.
He kissed her forehead, slow this time.
No shutdown. No command.
Just a simple gesture.
"She'll be fine," he said. "And if she isn't, I'll deal with it."
Enid leaned into him again, breath finally starting to match his.
Outside, the house was quiet.
Inside, the mess was settling.
Mostly because Toji refused to let it explode.
---
Two doors down from Enid's room, misery had taken human form.
Yara Quinlan, a junior nobody remembered until she opened her mouth, staggered out of bed with the grace of a dying houseplant. Her hair was a frizzy crown of sleep deprivation, and her eye bags looked old enough to vote.
"Fantastic," she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I got maybe three hours. Maybe."
Her legs swung off the mattress and immediately met cold embarrassment.
Her sheets were damp.
Her shorts were damp.
Wet from masterbation vigorously.
She stared down at them with the expression of someone who had just lost a duel to a ghost.
"Oh, for the love of—" She threw her hands up. "Of course. Just my luck. That wolf girl has the night of her life and the whole dorm vibrates like a possessed washing machine."
She grabbed her phone, thumb tapping with the moral restraint of a fruit fly.
New post to the Nevermore Whispers group chat:
> "FYI: Enid Sinclair DEFINITELY had someone in her room last night. Walls were shaking. Pretty sure she broke the sound barrier.
Consider this the morning news."
Yara paused, read it over, then added:
> "Also, if anyone knows how to get rid of supernatural splash damage, text me."
She hit send.
A tiny, tired grin curled on her lips.
"Chaos shared is chaos halved."
She tossed the phone onto her pillow and trudged toward the communal showers, grumbling like the world's most bitter narrator, already imagining the wildfire she'd just sparked.
Behind her, the phone buzzed nonstop.
Because Nevermore loved two things more than oxygen:
gossip, and gossip involving Enid Sinclair. The Queen of gossips herself
---
Drop some stones l need it
So how the story any complaints