There was no use pretending anymore.
Not at school.
Not online.
Not even at home.
The secret Simon and Elena had carried like a flame between their palms had finally burst into full fire—and now, everyone was watching the blaze.
It wasn't just gossip now. It was pressure.
Pressure from friends.
From teachers.
From silence at home.
Their mother had noticed the shift.
She hadn't said anything—not yet. But she watched them more closely. Her eyes lingered when they spoke in the same room. She looked up from the kitchen sink when they passed each other in the hall.
She knew something was wrong.
Or maybe she was finally noticing something that had been there all along.
One evening, after dinner, she asked the question.
Elena had just finished washing the dishes. Simon was wiping the counter.
Their mother sat at the table, arms crossed, eyes sharp in a way only mothers could manage.
"Is there something going on between you two?" she asked.
The silence after was suffocating.
Simon and Elena froze, eyes meeting across the kitchen.
She didn't raise her voice. Didn't accuse. Just asked again.
"Are you two… involved?"
Elena turned slowly to face her. Her hands trembled as she dried them on the towel.
"We're not blood," she said, voice low but steady. "You know that."
"That's not what I asked."
Simon stepped forward. "Yes," he said. "There is something going on. And we didn't plan it. It just… happened."
His mother blinked, as if she didn't expect them to actually say it out loud.
Then she stood.
"Simon," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "go to your room."
He hesitated.
"Now."
He went.
The next hour was the longest of his life.
He could hear muffled voices from the kitchen. His mother. Elena. No shouting. Just... emotional exhaustion being poured into words.
Then a knock at his door.
Elena walked in, face pale, eyes swollen.
"She's not mad," she said. "Just... heartbroken."
Simon swallowed hard. "Did she say we should stop?"
"She didn't say anything." Elena sat on his bed. "She just asked... how long."
He joined her. "And you told her?"
"I told her the truth."
They sat in silence.
Then Simon whispered, "Do you regret it?"
Elena looked at him like he'd just stabbed her. "Don't ask me that."
He nodded.
Because he knew the answer.
The next day at school, they were both ghosts.
Whispers followed them like shadows.
Some people stared. Some avoided.
Others… just didn't care.
But the people who mattered—teachers, teammates, friends—they looked at Simon differently.
Coach pulled him aside before practice.
"Look," he said gruffly, "I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life. But if this thing becomes a distraction, I can't keep you on the list for next year's varsity tryouts."
Simon nodded once, jaw clenched. "Got it."
Elena had it worse.
The cheer squad was already divided. Half of them wanted her gone. The other half didn't know what to say.
She wasn't officially kicked off—but she was isolated.
And silence, Elena once said, was the cruelest kind of punishment.
That night, Simon stood at the foot of her bed.
Elena sat curled beneath a blanket, staring at her laptop, her cheer jacket tossed on the floor.
"Let's get away," he said.
She blinked. "What?"
"Just for a day. No phones. No school. No eyes."
Elena stared at him like he was crazy. Then something in her softened.
"Where would we go?"
"Anywhere," he said. "Everywhere."
They skipped school the next day.
Took the subway to Brooklyn. Walked barefoot in the sand at Brighton Beach. Shared coffee on the boardwalk. Talked about childhood stories, things they missed, futures they didn't dare dream of.
Simon watched her laugh again—for real.
No fear.
No guilt.
Just her.
They stood beneath the pier, water rushing over their feet, the world far behind them.
Simon turned to her.
"If this is the end of everything we knew… would you still choose me?"
Elena didn't even hesitate.
"I'd choose you every time."
Then she kissed him.
And under that gray sky, with the ocean whispering around them, Simon felt it—what people meant when they said love was a storm.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
And impossible to ignore.