Monday morning, I take the bus.
Aurelio called seventeen times over the weekend. Left twelve voicemails. Sent twenty-three texts that progressed from apologies to pleas to desperate confusion.
I didn't answer any of them.
Saturday, I stayed in bed. Sunday, I worked a double shift at the library just to avoid thinking about him. About dinner. About Vivienne's words playing on repeat in my head.
*You'll both be miserable. Better a small hurt now than a devastating one later.*
Now it's Monday, and I'm walking through Riverside's gates with my hood up and my headphones in, even though no music is playing. The universal signal for *leave me alone*.
I count steps. Eight hundred forty-seven from the bus stop to my locker. The number usually calms me.
Today it doesn't.
Because when I reach my locker, he's there.
***
Aurelio looks like he hasn't slept. There are circles under his eyes. His hair is messier than usual, like he's been running his hands through it. He's holding two coffee cups, but his hands are shaking slightly.
"Cassia," he says when he sees me. Relief and pain war on his face.
I walk past him. Open my locker. Start pulling out books.
"Please talk to me." His voice cracks. "I've been losing my mind all weekend."
I don't look at him. Can't look at him. Because if I do, I'll crumble.
"I'm sorry about my mother. I'm sorry about dinner. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better. Just—please. Say something."
I slam my locker shut. Start walking to first period.
He follows.
"Cassia, come on. You can't just ignore me forever."
Watch me.
***
In AP Lit, he sits behind me like always. I feel his presence like a physical weight. Every few minutes, I sense him leaning forward, about to say something, then stopping.
Ms. Okonkwo notices. Her eyes flick between us with concern, but she doesn't say anything.
We're discussing *Jane Eyre* today. The scene where Jane leaves Rochester after discovering his secret.
"Why does she leave?" Ms. Okonkwo asks the class. "She loves him. He loves her. Why walk away?"
Sterling's hand shoots up. Of course it does.
"Because she has self-respect. She knows staying would destroy her. Sometimes walking away is the bravest thing you can do."
She looks directly at me when she says it. Message received: *Leave him before he destroys you.*
Ms. Okonkwo nods. "Anyone else?"
My hand goes up before I can stop it.
"She leaves because she's scared," I say. "Scared that love isn't enough. That the obstacles are too big. That staying will hurt more than leaving. But maybe..." My voice wavers. "Maybe she regrets it. Maybe walking away is just another kind of cowardice."
The room goes silent.
Behind me, I hear Aurelio's sharp intake of breath.
"Interesting," Ms. Okonkwo says softly. "So which is braver? Staying or leaving?"
"I don't know," I whisper. "I really don't know."
***
After class, Poet corners me.
"Okay, what happened? You've been dodging my calls all weekend, you look like death, and Aurelio looks worse. Spill."
"I met his mother."
Understanding floods her face. "Oh. Oh no."
"She basically told me I'm not good enough for him. That I'll ruin his life. That we're from different worlds and I should walk away before it gets messy."
"And you believed her?"
"Didn't you tell me the same thing? That rich boys don't marry scholarship girls?"
Poet winces. "I said to be careful. I didn't say to give up."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is you're letting her win! You're letting some snobby woman who doesn't even know you dictate your life. The Cassia I know doesn't back down from a fight."
"Maybe I'm tired of fighting."
"Or maybe you're scared. Which is fine. But Cass, that boy is miserable without you. And you're clearly miserable without him. So what's the point?"
I don't have an answer.
***
By Wednesday, the whole school knows something's wrong.
Aurelio stops bringing coffee. Stops waiting at my locker. Stops trying to talk to me after I ignore him for the tenth, twentieth, fiftieth time.
Sterling starts sitting with him at lunch. I tell myself I don't care. Tell myself it's for the best.
I'm lying.
Thursday, I find a note in my locker.
*I'm not giving up on us. I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But Cassia, we're worth fighting for. Please. Just talk to me. Let me prove my mother wrong. Let me prove we can make this work. —A*
I crumple it up. Throw it in the trash.
But at lunch, I pull it out. Smooth the wrinkles. Put it in my backpack.
I can't throw him away. Not completely.
***
Friday afternoon, I'm in the library—our spot, the poetry section—when someone sits down next to me.
Not Aurelio. Sterling.
"He's destroying himself over you," she says without preamble.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Too bad. I'm talking anyway." She crosses her legs, every inch the girl who belongs in Aurelio's world. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I like you. I don't. I think you're wrong for him. But watching him like this—barely eating, failing tests, walking around like a ghost—it's pathetic."
"Then why are you telling me?"
"Because believe it or not, I care about him. And right now, he needs closure. Either get back together with him or end it for real. This limbo is killing him."
"His mother—"
"His mother is a snob. So what? You think my mother isn't? You think any of our mothers wouldn't have a problem with someone from outside our circle?" Sterling leans in. "But here's what you don't get: Aurelio doesn't care. He fought with his mother for three hours after that dinner. Told her if she couldn't accept you, he'd stop coming home. He chose you, Cassia. And you're throwing it away because you're scared."
My throat is tight. "You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly. You think you're not good enough. That you'll never fit in. That eventually he'll realize his mother was right." She stands up. "But you know what's really going to happen? He's going to spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been. And you're going to spend yours knowing you were too afraid to find out."
She walks away, leaving me alone in the poetry section with tears burning behind my eyes.
***
That night, Aurelio shows up at my apartment.
I'm doing homework at the kitchen table when the buzzer rings. Grandma Rosa answers.
"Cassia, there's a boy here to see you."
My heart stops. "Tell him I'm not home."
"Baby, I'm not lying for you. Either you talk to him or I'm sending him up."
I go downstairs. Meet him at the building entrance. The November night is freezing, and he's not wearing a jacket. Just a thin sweater. Like he ran out of his house without thinking.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi."
We stand there in the cold. Two people who were everything to each other a week ago, now strangers.
"I miss you," he says finally. "Every second of every day, I miss you."
"Aurelio—"
"Let me talk. Please. I've been trying to figure out what to say all week. What could possibly make this right. And the truth is, I don't know. I can't change my mother. I can't change where I come from. I can't make this easier."
"Then what—"
"But I can promise you this: I will fight for you. Every day. Against my mother, against anyone who tries to make you feel less than incredible. I'll fight until you believe that you belong—in my life, in my world, anywhere you want to be."
His voice breaks. "I just need you to fight too. With me. Not against me."
I'm crying now. Can't help it.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
"I know. Me too. But Cassia, I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
He takes a step closer. Close enough that I can see he's been crying too. Close enough to touch.
"One more chance," he says. "That's all I'm asking. Let me prove this can work."
Every logical part of my brain screams warnings. His mother will never accept you. You'll never fit in. This will end in heartbreak.
But looking at him now—at the desperation and hope and love in his eyes—I can't make myself care about logic.
"Okay," I breathe.
"Okay?"
"One more chance."
His smile could light up the entire city.
He pulls me into his arms. Holds me so tight I can barely breathe. And I hold him back just as tightly, trying to memorize this moment. This choice.
This leap off a cliff into water I still can't see the bottom of.
"I'm sorry I shut you out," I whisper into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry my mother is a nightmare."
We stand there in the freezing November night, holding each other like we can protect each other from the storm coming.
We can't.
But right now, we're going to try.