Chapter 20
News travelled fast at the college. By Monday morning, the entire campus was buzzing with speculation, gossip, and wild theories about Remy Beaumont.
The former outcast who had somehow become the centre of gravity for the three most beautiful and powerful girls in school.
The Instagram posts from Saturday night had gone viral within the university's social ecosystem.
Remy and Lyra at Le Bernardin, holding hands across the table, the city lights sparkling behind them.
Someone had captured them kissing in the parking garage. Another photo showed them driving away together, Lyra's genuine smile visible even through the car window.
But that was just the beginning. There were also photos of Indigo clinging to Remy after he saved her from the car, her lips on his, tears streaming down her face.
Videos of Nyx breaking down in the library, Remy holding her while she cried, his arms protective and gentle around her trembling form.
Three school belles. One mysterious transfer student with golden eyes and apparently supernatural reflexes.
The theories were wild and getting wilder:
"He's obviously playing them all, right? Like some kind of pickup artist?"
"No way, did you see how he saved Indigo? That was real. You can't fake that kind of heroism."
"But he's dating Lyra. They went to Le Bernardin. That's like serious dating. You don't go there for a casual hookup."
"What about Nyx, though? I heard he's paying her tuition after her dad cut her off. That's pretty serious, too."
"Maybe he's just rich and bored and collecting hot girls like Pokemon?"
"Or maybe they're all just desperate, and he's the first guy who's ever told them, no?"
The speculation reached a fever pitch by Wednesday. Study groups dissolved into gossip sessions. Classes were interrupted by whispers.
Even professors had heard the rumours. one of them, Professor Henderson from Econ 301, had actually pulled Remy aside after class to ask if "everything was okay with his personal life, because you seem distracted lately."
The tension reached a breaking point on Thursday afternoon in the central courtyard.
The same space where Remy had first humiliated Marcus, where the fountain bubbled peacefully under the autumn sun, where students gathered between classes to socialize and see and be seen.
Lyra was there first. She stood near the fountain, her yellow hair shimmering like spun gold in the afternoon light, wearing a cream-colored dress that was elegant without being ostentatious.
She had a newfound confidence since Remy saved her family from the Parstons, her shoulders were back, her head held high, but it was different from her old pride.
This wasn't an armour she'd wore anymore. This was genuine self-assurance.
She was waiting for Remy. They'd made plans to grab coffee after his last class, continuing the pattern they'd established since Saturday's dinner.
Small moments together, building something real brick by careful brick.
Indigo arrived second, approaching from the arts building. She looked different from the girl who'd tried to seduce Remy in that abandoned classroom weeks ago.
Her purple hair had grown out enough that the natural dark blonde roots created an ombre effect she'd decided to keep.
She wore simple jeans and a sweater instead of her usual attention-grabbing outfits.
No makeup except a light touch of mascara. No entourage following her like disciples.
She was humbled and genuinely transformed after Remy saved her from the car accident.
The near-death experience had cracked something open inside her, and his rejection, brutal and honest, had forced her to confront the hollowness she'd built her identity around.
Now, she was trying to be real. Trying to figure out who Indigo Sinclair actually was when she wasn't performing.
And she was, despite knowing about Saturday's date, she was desperately in love with the man who'd seen through her and saved her anyway.
She positioned herself by the fountain, about ten feet from Lyra, waiting for the same person.
Nyx emerged from the library last, her coal-black eyes scanning the courtyard with the analytical precision that came naturally to her.
She wore comfortable clothes, a cardigan over a simple shirt, jeans that actually fit instead of the baggy things she'd been hiding in.
Her dark, smooth hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail.
She was no longer the "Iron Lady," that perfect automaton grinding toward academic excellence.
She was a woman finally breathing for herself, making her own choices, learning what it felt like to want things instead of just achieving them.
She'd found an apartment, a tiny studio in a not-great part of town, but it was hers.
She'd gotten a part-time job at the campus bookstore, which barely covered rent and groceries but gave her independence.
She'd applied for scholarships and grants without her father's prestigious name attached, determined to finish her degree on her own terms.
Remy had offered to help financially. She'd refused initially, her pride too strong.
But he'd insisted on at least covering one semester's tuition as a "loan you can pay back when you're a successful whatever-you-decide-to-become, instead of what your parents wanted."
She'd cried when she accepted. Happy tears this time, relief tears, freedom tears.
And now she was approaching the fountain, also waiting for Remy, because they had plans to study together.
Though "studying" had increasingly become an excuse to just talk about life and futures and who they wanted to be.
The three women arrived at the same spot at almost the same time, each so focused on their own thoughts that they didn't notice the others until they were standing in a rough triangle around the fountain.
They stopped. Looked at each other. The realization dawned simultaneously.
The courtyard, which had been buzzing with normal conversation, went quiet as students noticed the tableau.
The Trinity, the three school belles who'd defined campus social hierarchy for years, faced each other with expressions that ranged from surprised to wary to almost amused.
"What are you doing here, Indigo?" Lyra asked, her tsundere pride flaring automatically as she crossed her arms in a defensive posture.
Her silver eyes narrowed slightly. "I thought you were too busy with your 'entourage' to notice a guy like Remy.
Or is this another one of your games? Another heart to break?"
"I don't care about the entourage anymore," Indigo replied softly, her indigo eyes fixed on the path where Remy usually walked when coming from the economics building.
Her voice was gentle, honest, and vulnerable in a way that made several watching students do double-takes.
"They were never friends anyway. Just people who liked being seen with me. He showed me that. He saved my life, Lyra. I'm not letting him go."
"Saved your life?" Lyra's voice rose slightly, confusion mixing with defensive anger.
"He saved my family's entire livelihood! He gave me back my future! You think a car accident compares to....."
"It's not a competition," Nyx interrupted, stepping forward with her characteristic directness.
Her coal-black eyes moved between the other two women with analytical precision.
"It seems we all have a debt to him. But it's more than that, isn't it? It's not just gratitude or obligation."
Silence fell again, heavier this time. Around them, at least forty students had stopped pretending to do other things and were openly watching the confrontation.
Phones were out, recording. This was going to be all over social media within minutes.
The three girls looked at each other, really looked, and the realization sinking in was almost physical.
It showed on their faces like a wave, shock, recognition, understanding, and something that might have been resignation or determination or both.
They weren't just rivals for social status anymore. They weren't competing for spots on some imaginary hierarchy of beauty and power.
They were all hopelessly in love with the same man, the man who had used his strange, prophetic power to solve their deepest problems, who had seen them at their worst and helped anyway, who had treated them like human beings instead of trophies or obstacles or performances.
"You love him," Lyra said to Indigo, and it wasn't a question. "You actually love him. This isn't another game."
"I do," Indigo admitted, her voice barely above a whisper but steady. "I didn't think I was capable of it. Real love, not just wanting to be wanted. But he made me feel real. Made me want to be real. And yes, I love him."
"So do I," Nyx said quietly. "Though I'm not sure I even understand what that means yet. I've spent my whole life focused on achievements and grades.
I've never let myself feel anything like this. But I know that when I'm with him, I can breathe. When I talk to him, I feel like a person instead of a report card. And that feels like love."
Lyra was silent for a long moment, her silver eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"He took me to dinner on Saturday," she said finally. "Le Bernardin. We talked for hours. He held my hand. He kissed me.
He told me he wanted to be part of my future. And I....." her voice cracked slightly, ".....I thought maybe he meant just my future. Not all of yours, too."
"What are we supposed to do?" Indigo asked, and for once, there was no manipulation in her voice, no calculated seduction.
Just genuine confusion and pain. "We can't all.....there's no way he....this isn't how it works."
"Maybe," Nyx said slowly, her analytical mind working through the problem like an equation with multiple variables, "we should ask him what he wants instead of deciding among ourselves.
We're talking about him like he's a prize to be won instead of a person with his own feelings and choices."
Before any of them could respond, the sound of a high-performance engine cut through the courtyard chatter.