Chapter 56: One Weekend

Astrid

The first thing I noticed walking into my dorm Friday evening was the silence.

No Reed. No Xander. No awkward tension beneath every glance. No pretending I wasn’t aware of exactly where either of them stood in a room.

Just my room. My bed. My silence.

I dropped my bag and collapsed onto the mattress, and for the first time all week, I actually breathed. This was exactly what I needed. Distance. Two entire days without having to see either twin.

Two days, I thought, pressing my face into the pillow. Maybe I could get through them without thinking about what happened at the ball.

Then, immediately: Reed.

I groaned into the pillow. So much for that.

I tried distracting myself, unpacking things that didn’t need unpacking, changing into comfortable clothes, opening a textbook I read the same paragraph in three times without absorbing a word. My mind kept drifting back regardless, the ball, the bond, their hands, their faces, the memory of my own voice breaking apart begging them to reject me, the pain that had torn through me when I’d tried to do it myself.

I sat up sharply. "No."

Not this weekend. This weekend was for forgetting. I decided I would avoid the shared apartment entirely until Monday. Maybe longer.

That thought comforted me right up until I remembered our project. I pushed the inconvenient detail firmly aside.

By evening, students had started filtering downstairs for dinner. Ivy asked if I was coming.

"I’m not hungry," I said.

She looked at me, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push. I expected relief once she left.

Instead I sat alone, stomach growling in protest, too emotionally drained to deal with people or their questions. Eventually I changed into something softer and burrowed under my blanket.

My plan was simple: hide.

A knock came a while later.

"Astrid?" Ivy’s voice.

I told her I was tired. She opened the door anyway, carrying a plate and something to drink.

"I said I’m not hungry," I protested.

"And I said you’re a terrible liar," she said, setting the food down regardless.

I tried to laugh. It didn’t quite land. She sat on the edge of the bed without interrogating me right away, simply staying there, which somehow felt worse than if she’d started asking questions immediately.

"Is this about the twins?" she finally asked.

I froze. "No."

She gave me a look that made the lie feel pointless.

I sighed. I didn’t tell her everything, but I admitted things had gotten complicated, that I didn’t know how to behave around them anymore.

"Did they do something?" she asked.

"No," I said quickly. I didn’t blame them for any of this, and that was part of what made everything so much harder.

"I just want to avoid them," I finally said.

"For how long?"

"Forever," I said, entirely serious.

She stared at me. "You do realize you have a school project with them, right?"

I went silent. I had genuinely forgotten. "Oh."

"Exactly," she said, raising an eyebrow.

I actually laughed at that.

Once the humor faded, she asked what was really bothering me. I admitted I was scared, that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now. I’d thought I could simply reject whatever this was and move on. I couldn’t. I’d tried. It had hurt more than anything I’d felt in a long time.

And the twins weren’t making it easier, because they weren’t angry, weren’t demanding anything from me. They’d been giving me space instead.

"If they were awful, this would be easier," I admitted.

"Why?"

"Because then I could hate them."

But I couldn’t. I remembered Reed standing outside my door, refusing to leave but refusing to push in. Xander respecting every boundary I’d thrown up between us. That made everything worse, not better.

I finally told her the part I hated most, how desperately I’d cried, how helplessly I’d begged them through that door.

"I was pathetic," I said.

"No," Ivy said immediately. "You were scared."

I didn’t answer. She reminded me that being overwhelmed by something enormous didn’t make me weak. I didn’t fully believe her yet, but hearing it helped more than I expected.

She didn’t tell me what to do about Reed and Xander. She simply said I didn’t have to decide anything tonight, or tomorrow, that I could take things one day at a time without owing anyone an explanation before I was ready.

Some of the tension finally eased out of my shoulders. I reached for the plate she’d brought.

"There," she said, smiling. "Progress."

"You’re very annoying."

"And yet you’re eating."

Once I’d finished, her expression shifted into something suspiciously cheerful.

"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked.

She wouldn’t answer. I narrowed my eyes. "What did you do?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out two tickets.

"What’s that?" I asked.

"A solution."

"To what?"

"You."

She explained there was a student party happening Sunday evening, and she’d already secured us both tickets.

"Absolutely not," I said immediately.

"You haven’t even heard the plan."

"The plan is apparently making terrible decisions."

She laughed, unbothered, and explained I needed to leave the dorm, dress up, dance, laugh, remember I had a life outside all of this mess.

"I don’t feel like partying," I said.

"Exactly. That’s why we’re going."

I stared at her, already knowing she wasn’t going to let this drop.

I looked at the tickets again, considering refusing outright. Then I thought about how the entire week had revolved around Reed and Xander, every waking thought circling back to the bond, the ball, everything I couldn’t undo.

I didn’t want to spend the weekend doing the same thing.

Maybe Ivy was right. Maybe I needed one night where I was simply Astrid. Not someone’s mate. Not the scholarship girl everyone whispered about. Just myself.

"Fine," I sighed.

Her whole face brightened. "Fine?"

"One party."

She grinned. "That’s my girl."

"If this is terrible, I’m blaming you," I warned.

"Deal."

Once she left, I lay back against my pillow, and for the first time all day, I smiled. Maybe one evening away from Moonshade’s gossip, away from the bond, away from Reed and Xander entirely, was exactly what I needed.

I wanted to forget, just for one evening.

Maybe one night was all I needed to forget.

What could possibly go wrong?