Before the lights of betrayal and secrets, Vera had lived in a world of dim corners and stifled screams.
Back then, she was Veronica Sagrado — daughter of a famous psychiatrist and a drug-addicted socialite. Her home looked perfect from outside. But inside, it reeked of broken glass and broken promises.
At 15, Vera discovered her mother's affair with a student.
At 16, she was sent to boarding school after punching him in public.
At 17, she became "Vera"—the fearless, sarcastic, intimidating girl who never cried again.
But that was just her armor.
Back in the present, Keira sat in the abandoned theater's backstage room, knees drawn to her chest. The moment the confrontation ended, she'd stormed out.
Elijah hadn't followed.
Good.
She needed space.
But the past kept crawling back.
At 14, Keira had found her journal pages posted on every locker in school — courtesy of her then-boyfriend's friend.
Every insecurity she'd ever written — her body image, her anxiety, her suicidal thoughts — printed in Comic Sans.
She didn't speak for two months after that.
No boy since had reached her heart.
Until—
"Hey," a smooth voice called. "You dropped this."
She looked up.
A tall boy, about her age but with older energy, stood at the theater's side door. Tousled raven hair. Sharp jawline. One dimple.
In his hand: her bracelet. The one her dad gave her before he left.
Keira narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
He grinned. "Cyan Valerio. New transfer. Good at chemistry and... finding lost things."
She blinked. "You're not in Class 12-B."
"Not yet. Principal says I'm joining Monday."
She snatched the bracelet. "Thanks. You can go now."
He gave a mock salute. "Already love your attitude."
The next morning, chaos arrived.
Cyan burst into class with a lopsided tie and a devil-may-care grin.
"Seat partner?" he asked brightly, sliding into the empty seat beside Keira before anyone could stop him.
Elijah scowled from across the room.
Maya raised an eyebrow.
Keira looked horrified.
"What?" Cyan asked, pulling out a banana. "Am I not shiny enough for your throne?"
"You're annoying," Keira muttered.
"Everyone says that. But I grow on people. Like fungus."
During lunch, Keira stormed to the rooftop for peace.
She found Cyan already there—balancing a juice box on his head.
"I think gravity's broken," he announced solemnly.
She chuckled—then quickly covered her mouth.
He turned, victorious. "A laugh. You're not heartless after all."
"Don't push it."
But she sat down beside him.
Over the next few days, things shifted.
Cyan became part of the group—uninvited but stubborn. He made sarcastic memes of Elijah, gifted Vera a squishy stress banana, and nicknamed Maya "Momaya" for her constant warnings.
Keira hated how easily he fit in.
She also hated how he made her laugh even on the worst days.
One afternoon, Keira walked into class to find her locker stuffed—with mini foam ducks.
A note was taped inside:
"You looked sad yesterday. Ducks are clinically proven to cure gloom. – The Great Cyan."
She rolled her eyes. But the smile tugged at her lips anyway.
That evening, she sat on the school steps watching the rain.
Cyan appeared, holding two paper cups of hot cocoa.
"Thought you'd need warmth," he said.
She looked up. "Why are you so... nice?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I know what it's like to drown quietly."
Silence.
Then Keira whispered, "Do you ever get tired of pretending you're fine?"
Cyan looked away. "Every damn day."
Later that night, Elijah confronted her.
"You're letting your guard down," he said, voice sharp.
"With Cyan?" she snapped. "He's just a friend."
"He's a distraction."
Keira's eyes hardened. "And you're acting like you have the right to decide that."
Meanwhile, Vera, unseen in the shadows, watched the growing bond.
Her expression unreadable.
She knew Cyan.
She knew who he really was—and what he'd run from.
But she said nothing.
Not yet.
The next day, Keira found herself laughing—genuinely—while Cyan taught Maya to juggle foam ducks.
When Maya dropped them all, Keira laughed so hard she had to sit down.
It was the first time she felt alive in weeks.
"See?" Cyan grinned. "Told you I'd grow on you."
She rolled her eyes. "More like mold."
"Charming mold, though," he winked.
But just as Keira began to feel whole again, a message arrived:
"You're smiling too much, Keira. Ready for your next heartbreak?" — X
The color drained from her face.
Cyan noticed. "What is it?"
She looked at him, torn between trust and terror.
"I don't know who to believe anymore," she whispered.
Cyan stepped closer.
"You don't have to believe in people, Keira. Just… let someone stand beside you. Even if it's just for a while."