"Chest out, stand straight… leg in attention!"
Regina's voice sliced through the room like a siren.
I stiffened instantly, shoulders snapping back so fast I was pretty sure something cracked.
She paced around me like a general inspecting a soldier who had already failed before the war even started.
Her heels clicked against the floor—slow, sharp, terrifying.
"Posture," she snapped, tapping my shoulder. "Do you want to look like a crumpled napkin on stage?"
I clenched my jaw.
One day… just one day… I will whack her.
If Liam hadn't begged me earlier—"Please, Ayana, don't start a war today"—I would've already sent Regina flying into next semester.
"Regina!" I finally burst out, dropping the stiff pose and glaring at her. "Are we training for a beauty contest or enrolling in the military?!"
The room went quiet for half a second.
Then—
Emma giggled.
Of course she did.
She stepped forward, gently grabbing my arm and pulling me aside like she was rescuing a lost puppy from a storm.
"You don't need to go through all this," she whispered softly, her voice calm and warm—like the opposite of Regina's entire existence.
I blinked at her.
"Just be yourself," she continued, smiling. "People like real. Not… whatever this is."
She gestured vaguely toward Regina, who was now fixing her hair like she hadn't just terrorized me.
I let out a small breath.
"…Thanks," I muttered.
Emma winked. "Come on. Before she makes you do push-ups."
"I heard that!" Regina snapped from across the room.
"Good," I whispered under my breath.
Training went on.
And on.
And on.
By the end of it, I was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.
If this was what "beauty" required, I was ready to retire early and live as a cave goblin.
Finally—finally—it was over.
Morning light crept in through the windows.
Liam, somehow still full of energy, stretched like he had just woken up instead of surviving Regina Boot Camp.
"Alright!" he clapped. "I'll drop Emma and Regina off."
"Obviously," Regina said, flipping her hair.
Emma waved sweetly. "Rest, Ayana."
"I might never move again," I replied weakly.
And just like that—they left.
Silence.
Peace.
…Almost.
Because now it was just me, Jake, Mark… and Ethan.
I rubbed my shoulders, wincing. "So… what are you guys doing?"
Mark didn't even look up as he magically produced a book like some intellectual wizard.
"I will read this… and waste my time," he said flatly, already flipping pages.
Jake stretched dramatically. "I'll be in my room."
Before he could escape, I grabbed his arm.
"Wait," I said softly.
He looked down at me, already annoyed. "What?"
I hesitated.
Then whispered, "I'm hungry…"
Jake stared at me like I had just confessed a crime.
Ethan's eyes flicked toward me instantly.
Then away.
Like he didn't want to be caught caring.
Jake sighed, pulling his arm free. "Go to the kitchen. There's food."
"I can't cook."
"That's a you problem."
"I might starve."
"You won't."
"You don't know that!"
He shook his head. "You're dramatic."
"And hungry!"
"Same thing."
And with that—he left.
I slumped back onto the couch.
My stomach growled.
Loudly.
"Wow," I muttered. "Betrayed by my own body."
Minutes passed.
Painful.
Slow.
Hunger-filled minutes.
Finally, I stood up.
"This is it," I said dramatically. "If I don't come back… tell my story."
Mark glanced up. "You're going to the kitchen, not war."
"Same risk level," I shot back.
He raised a brow. "Need help?"
"No," I said quickly. "I've got this."
Confidence.
Fake confidence.
But still.
I walked into the kitchen like an explorer entering unknown territory.
Opened the cupboard.
Nothing.
Fridge?
Carrots.
Vegetables.
More vegetables.
I stared at them.
They stared back.
"…This is betrayal," I whispered.
I picked up a carrot.
Turned it around.
"…What do I even do with you?"
No answer.
Of course.
I sighed deeply, dropping it back.
"I can't cook. I can't survive. This is how it ends."
I turned to leave—
And froze.
Ethan.
Standing there.
Quiet.
Still.
Watching.
I hadn't even heard him come in.
"Were you just… standing there?" I asked slowly.
"Yes."
"…That's creepy."
He ignored that, walking past me toward the sink.
"I'm hungry," he said calmly.
I blinked. "Same. But there's nothing here."
He paused.
Then glanced at me.
Not cold.
Not completely.
Just… steady.
"I'll find something."
I frowned. "From where? The vegetable army?"
He didn't answer.
Just moved.
Opening cabinets.
Checking things.
Calm.
Focused.
Like he had a plan.
I stood there awkwardly for a second… then quietly backed out.
Back in the living room, I dropped onto the couch like a defeated warrior.
Mark looked up.
"What happened?"
I groaned. "There's nothing in there. Just vegetables and disappointment."
"And Ethan?"
"He said he'll 'find something,'" I said, making air quotes.
Mark smiled slightly.
"If it's Ethan… he will."
I frowned. "Why do you sound so sure?"
He closed his book halfway. "Because he doesn't say things he can't do."
I blinked.
"…That's oddly reassuring."
"It should be."
We sat in silence for a moment.