By third period, my headache had officially declared war.
The classroom lights were too bright, the whispers too loud, and my patience too nonexistent.
I lasted exactly twelve minutes before giving up.
Sick.
That was the word I used when I told the nurse.
Technically not a lie. My brain did feel poisoned.
Now I was sprawled across the couch at home, blanket wrapped around me like emotional armor, staring at my phone.
There was only one person chaotic enough to handle my mood.
I hit call.
Nena picked up on the second ring.
"Ayana, if this is about homework, I refuse to—"
"I'm sick."
Silence.
Then—
A dramatic gasp.
"You? Sick? Impossible. You're too stubborn for illness."
"I'm serious."
Another pause.
"…Wait," she said slowly. "You left school?"
"Yes."
"Oh, this is BAD bad."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Can you not sound excited?"
"I'm not excited," she protested. "I'm… aggressively concerned."
"That's not a thing."
"It is today. I'm coming over."
I shot upright so fast my head protested.
"What? No! You have school!"
"And you," she fired back immediately, "are hiding approximately seventeen emotional breakdowns from me."
"I am not hiding—"
"Ayana."
Uh-oh.
She used the voice.
The one that meant she was already grabbing her bag.
"I need to know what your problem is," she continued. "Because friends don't vanish mid-day unless something exploded."
I groaned, collapsing back into the couch.
"You're being dramatic."
"Please. Between the two of us, I am the fun dramatic one. You are the concerning dramatic one."
Despite everything, a small smile tugged at my lips.
She softened slightly.
"Even if we're not sisters," she said, "you know you don't get to suffer alone, right?"
My throat tightened.
Then — right on schedule — she ruined the moment.
"Also," she added casually, "explain why we both have the last name Ronson for absolutely no reason."
I blinked.
"…I still think that's creepy."
"Destiny," she declared. "Clearly we were meant to be related."
"Or adopted into chaos."
"Same thing."
I heard movement on her end — probably her already halfway out of class.
"For some reason," she went on, "I still see you as my sister."
That did it.
The knot in my chest loosened just a little.
"So I'm coming," she finished.
"No arguments."
I let out a long sigh.
Arguing with Nena was like arguing with gravity.
Pointless.
"…Fine," I said. "I'll be waiting."
"Good. Try not to die before I get there. It would be very inconvenient for me."
I was mid-sentence, explaining the potential emotional apocalypse to Nena, when—ding-dong.
My head snapped up.
"What?" I muttered.
The doorbell rang again.
I froze.
Not Nena. She was already here—how could she be this fast? Unless… she was secretly Flash. Or had a teleportation device hidden in her backpack.
I looked down.
A bag sat neatly on the doormat.
Curious, I stepped closer and picked it up.
Nathan Sweet Bakes.
My brow furrowed. Nathan? But… why would he send this?
I tore it open, and inside was a folded note.
"Long time no see. I have a surprise for you. Not now. Later."
I blinked.
What kind of surprise? And why now? My brain started doing backflips.
And then—click. The front door swung open.
"AYANA!"
There she was. Nena. Standing in the doorway like she owned the world.
Short black hair perfectly messy in that controlled chaos way she always managed. Jeans, a loose graphic tee, sneakers. All casual but somehow intimidating.
I fiddled nervously with my glasses, hiding the note behind my back.
Nena's sharp gaze immediately landed on the bag in my hands.
"Mm-hmm, what's this?" she said, eyebrow raised, already holding her own bag like a shield.
"Uh…" I stammered. "It's… nothing?"
Her grin widened, merciless. "Ayana. Show me what's inside. Now."
I sighed, knowing resistance was futile, and handed it over.
She tore open the bag faster than I could blink, peeking inside.
"Secret admirer?" she joked, holding the note up like it was a trophy. "Or someone who finally realized you're too dramatic to ignore?"
I groaned. "Nena, seriously…"
"Seriously what?" she said, smirking. "You can't hide your life from me, remember?"
I rolled my eyes, shoving the bag under my arm.
"Fine. Let's go inside before the mail carrier thinks I've kidnapped you or something."
We stepped in, the door clicking shut behind us.
We sank onto the couch, the bag of Nathan's cupcakes between us. I picked one up, still warm, frosting slightly melting on my fingers. The smell was sweet enough to distract me… almost.
Nena popped a cupcake in her mouth and raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Spill. What's got you hiding like a squirrel with a secret stash?"
I took a deep breath, fiddling with my glasses. "It's… complicated. My dad."
She froze mid-chew. "Oh. That kind of complicated?"
"The criminal kind," I said flatly.
Nena blinked, frosting smudged on her cheek. "Excuse me?"
I groaned. "Yes. My mom—Mrs. May—she… she hates him. She won't even let me… he's coming to my competition. And I invited him. Just for one night. I thought it would be… fine."
Nena blinked again. "Wait. You invited your criminal dad to your competition? Like, formally invited him?"
"Yes!" I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "And Jake… he got hurt the other day. I don't know exactly how, but he's all bruised, and he said—he said… something about doors being closed for a reason. And my mom… she—she blew up. Called him a criminal. Said he left us for money. Took everything. Said he wouldn't be welcome back. Ever. And I…"
I trailed off, biting my lip. "I just… I want to talk to him. I want to ask him things. Answers, maybe."
Nena's cupcake paused mid-air. She chewed slowly, then swallowed. "Wow. That's… a lot. But, you know, I've got your back."
I looked at her skeptically. "You do?"
She smirked, frosting still on her lips. "Of course. But, full disclosure, I don't actually know how we're going to do it. Talk to a guy you barely know who also happens to be… your criminal dad? That's a new level of chaos even for me."
I slumped back, pressing the cupcake to my lips for comfort. "I don't even know how I'll find him. Or if he'll talk to me. Or—"
Nena waved a hand, silencing me. "Ayana. One thing at a time. Step one: eat cupcake. Step two: think about plan. Step three: destroy emotional chaos. We'll figure the rest out."
I laughed softly, despite the tension. "Step three sounds… aggressive."
She grinned. "Aggression is my love language. Now, cupcake first. And yes, I'll help you talk to Mr. Ronson. Somehow. But for now, let's not melt under the frosting."
I took a bite, letting the sweetness coat the nerves coiling in my stomach.
"Okay," I said finally, "we start with the cupcakes… then figure out a criminal dad."
Nena pointed at me with a frosting-covered finger. "Exactly. Priorities, Ayana. Priorities."
And just like that, for the first time since last night, the tension in my chest loosened… just a little.