It was raining again.
Not the soft, misty kind that kissed your skin and washed the streets clean. This was harder — angrier. The kind that pelted rooftops and made everything feel like the city itself was warning you.
Simon sat by the window, hoodie up, watching drops race each other down the glass. It was the kind of weather where time felt slow, like the world was holding its breath. Or preparing to exhale something it had held in too long.
Behind him, the apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
A soft knock broke the stillness.
He turned. Elena stood at the door of his room, her face blank, but her posture screamed everything.
"They want to meet," she said.
Simon stood. "Who?"
"The school. Principal, guidance counselor… Mom."
His pulse skipped.
"About us?"
Elena nodded. "They're calling it an emergency 'family conduct' review."
Simon swore under his breath. "Is that even legal?"
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. They've already set it. Tomorrow morning."
Simon stepped closer. "You okay?"
Elena stared past him. "Not really."
That night, dinner was silence broken only by forks on plates and the hum of the refrigerator. Their mother barely looked up. She hadn't said much since the confession. Her silence was no longer heartbreak.
It was calculation.
When she finally spoke, her voice was tight. Controlled.
"I don't know what I'm walking into tomorrow," she said. "But I want you both to understand — what happens from here on… is bigger than just the two of you."
Elena set down her fork. "I know."
"Do you?" she asked, eyes sharp. "Do you really? Because this isn't just school scandal or teenage rebellion. This could affect your records. Scholarships. Your reputation."
Simon met her gaze. "We didn't plan this."
"No," she said. "But you let it happen."
He had no response to that. Because she was right.
And wrong.
And completely lost in the middle.
At school the next morning, everything felt colder.
Simon walked beside his mother down the polished corridor toward the admin office. Elena and her father, Mr. Reyes, were already waiting outside the conference room. They didn't speak.
Not to each other. Not to them.
Not even to themselves.
The room they entered was sterile and too bright. Four chairs. A long table. A counselor with a clipboard. The principal in a gray suit.
The meeting began.
"We are here to address a situation that's escalated," the principal said. "Rumors have reached faculty, students, and even parents. We've received complaints from two cheer squad members and one varsity parent."
Complaints.
Simon clenched his fists beneath the table.
Elena sat stiffly beside him.
"I need to ask you both — and I want honesty," the principal said, eyes flicking between them. "Is there a romantic relationship between the two of you?"
Simon opened his mouth.
Elena beat him to it.
"Yes," she said. Clear. Firm. Unshaken.
Their mother flinched. Mr. Reyes exhaled sharply.
The counselor scribbled something on her pad.
The principal leaned back. "And you understand the implications this causes given your family history?"
"We're not biologically related," Simon said. "Never have been."
"And we're not even in the same household anymore," Elena added. "My dad and Simon's mom separated officially last spring."
Silence.
The principal rubbed his temples.
"This doesn't violate any district laws," he admitted. "But it raises serious ethical and social concerns. For both of you."
He turned to the parents.
"We're recommending immediate counseling intervention and a temporary reassignment of one student to another school until things settle."
Simon's chest went tight. "What?"
Elena's voice cracked. "You're separating us?"
"It's not a punishment," the counselor said quickly. "It's for emotional safety. Yours. And others'."
Simon stood. "We didn't hurt anyone. Why are we being treated like criminals?"
The room tensed.
His mother stood slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Sit down, Simon."
He did. Reluctantly.
Then came the worst part:
> "If you choose to continue this relationship, we need documentation that your guardians are aware and consent to your ongoing contact on school property."
In other words — permission to love.
A license for affection.
Approval to feel what they'd already bled for.
After the meeting, no one spoke.
Not in the car. Not on the walk home. Not even when Elena and Simon ended up alone in the apartment, watching rain fall again through fogged windows.
She finally broke the silence.
"They're going to send me to Lincoln Prep."
Simon's breath hitched. "That's across the city."
She nodded. "Starting next week."
He stared at the floor. "They're pulling us apart."
"They think that'll fix it."
He looked at her then. Really looked. And what he saw wasn't fear.
It was fire.
"What if we don't let them?"
She raised a brow. "Simon…"
"I'm serious. What if we stop hiding? Let them see all of it."
"You mean go public?"
"I mean we stop apologizing."
She took a long breath. Then stepped forward.
"And if it costs us everything?"
He kissed her softly. "Then at least we lost it together."