CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR: UNSPOKEN TENSIONS

Helen stood tall on the raised platform, her sharp gaze scanning the battered yet standing students before her. The second round of the tournament had come to an end, leaving behind a mixture of triumph and exhaustion. Dust and remnants of battle still lingered in the air, but all eyes were on her as they waited for the final announcement.

Among the crowd, I, Ken, and Nicole stood side by side, yet a vast distance stretched between us. None of us spoke.

Nicole kept her arms folded, her face unreadable, though the way she bit her lip betrayed the emotions she held back. Ken, hands in his pockets, kept a neutral stance, but his sharp eyes occasionally flicked toward me as if waiting to see if I would acknowledge the tension between us. And I… stood stiffly, my usual scowl present, but it lacked its usual sharpness.

I could still hear Nicole's voice from earlier—I love you, Liam. And my own response—cold, dismissive, cruel. The guilt gnawed at me, unfamiliar and unwanted. I knew I had acted like an asshole, but I wasn't sure how to fix it. Apologizing had never been my thing.

Nicole, on the other hand, was done hoping for words from me. She had already resolved to make me see her, to prove herself. But that didn't make the sting of my rejection any less painful.

Ken simply exhaled through his nose. He wasn't the type to hold grudges, but he wasn't about to pretend everything was fine either. If I wanted to act like a lone wolf, that was my problem—but Ken wouldn't let Nicole keep getting hurt over it.

Helen cleared her throat, drawing all attention to her. "Well fought," she began, her tone even but laced with expectation. "You've all proven your worth in the second round, but don't let your victories blind you. The next round will not be as forgiving. You have three days to recover. Use them wisely."

Her eyes swept over the students, lingering briefly on me before she smirked slightly. "And for those of you who still think they can do everything alone—remember, even the strongest can fall when they refuse to rely on others."

I stiffened at the words, knowing full well they were directed at me.

Helen's smirk deepened. "Good. Let that sink in."

She turned on her heel and walked off the platform, leaving the students to process her words. The tournament wasn't over yet. If they thought the second round was brutal, the final round would make them wish they had never joined in the first place.

And she couldn't wait to see how they would handle it.

I stood outside Helen's office, staring at the door. Normally, I wouldn't hesitate—I would just barge in without a care. But today was different. My mind was still clouded with the aftermath of last night.

Nicole's words. Ken stepping in. The sharp sting of guilt that hadn't left me since.

With a quiet sigh, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Helen was at her desk, flipping through a stack of papers. She didn't look up as she spoke. "You're late."

I scoffed lightly, trying to shake off the heaviness weighing on me. "Didn't know I was on a schedule."

Helen finally glanced up, her sharp gaze scanning me. Normally, I carried myself with confidence—bordering on arrogance—but today, something was different. My usual fire had dimmed, replaced with something more… restrained.

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets.

Helen arched a brow. "That's a lie."

I clenched my jaw but didn't respond.

Helen sighed, shaking her head. "You remind me of her, you know."

I frowned. "Who?"

"Your mother."

My chest tightened. I looked away, but Helen continued, standing up and moving toward the large window.

"Shayla had a habit of getting involved in things that didn't concern her. She couldn't stand seeing someone struggle alone, even if it had nothing to do with her. She'd jump in, no hesitation, just to help." Helen chuckled, the memory clear in her mind. "It used to drive Seth crazy. 'Shayla, you can't save everyone,' he'd tell her. And she'd just smile and say, 'Doesn't mean I can't try.'"

My fingers curled slightly.

"She was selfless to a fault," Helen continued. "Always giving, always putting others before herself. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Because she believed in people." She turned to look at him then. "I wonder… do you?"

I exhaled sharply. "What are you getting at?"

Helen smirked slightly. "You act like you don't care about anyone. Like you're fine being alone. But if that were true, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be standing in front of me, looking like someone just ripped the ground out from under you."

I clicked my tongue. "You're imagining things."

Helen didn't press, but the knowing look in her eyes made my skin itch.

Silence settled between us before she spoke again, softer this time. "You don't have to push people away, Liam."

I tensed.

Helen leaned against her desk. "Shayla believed in people. Maybe it's time you start believing in them too."

I remained quiet, my mind churning.

Helen studied me or a moment before smirking. "You know, your mother and I made a great team."

I snorted, the weight in my chest easing slightly. "You two must've been insufferable."

Helen grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

And just like that, a small, unguarded smile flickered across my lips.

Helen's eyes widened slightly before she smirked. "Well, look at that. You do have a heart."

I scowled immediately. "Shut up."

Helen laughed, shaking her head. "Get out of here, Liam. You've got three days before the next round. Use them wisely."

I rolled my eyes but turned toward the door.

Just as I reached for the handle, Helen's voice stopped me. "Liam."

I paused, glancing back.

Helen's smirk was gone, replaced by something more sincere. "Your mother would've been proud of you."

I didn't respond right away. My throat felt tight, my chest heavier than before—but not in a bad way. I gave a small nod before slipping out the door.

And for the first time in a while, the storm in my mind quieted.

Unfamiliar Territory

Even though I didn't believe my mother would truly be proud of me, it was still nice hearing Helen say it.

But that was just wishful thinking.

I had gone down a path she never would have wanted me to. A path I couldn't turn back from.

Still, for the first time since stepping foot in this stupid school, talking to Helen was actually… helpful. I now knew what I needed to do.

I would apologize.

To Ken. To Nicole.

This was a whole new terrain for me. Apologies had never been my strong suit—hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I had given one. But I would manage. They deserved it.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, letting my thoughts run amok as I walked down the hall. My chest felt tight, my mind still restless, but I had made up my mind.

Then I heard it.

A quiet, muffled sob.

I stopped.

The sound was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there. Someone was crying.

I frowned, scanning the dimly lit corridor. There weren't many students around, most probably in their dorms or out in the training fields. But the sound was close.

Too close.

My feet moved before I could think, leading me toward the source.

My footsteps slowed as I caught sight of the person curled up against the wall.

Nicole.

My chest tightened.

For a second, I thought she was still upset about what I had said to her. And why wouldn't she be? My words had been cruel, cutting deeper than I intended. Something in me stung at the thought. Guilt, maybe. Regret. I wasn't sure.

But then I noticed the way her shoulders shook, the quiet, pained sobs slipping past her lips. This wasn't just about me.

This was something else.

I clenched my jaw, hesitating. I had never been good at handling emotions—my own or anyone else's. Normally, I would've turned the other way, ignored it, let her deal with whatever it was on her own.

But something kept my feet rooted in place.

Something made me force myself forward.

Nicole was sitting on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. She didn't notice me at first, lost in whatever pain was eating at her.

I swallowed hard, then exhaled sharply.

"...Hey."

My voice came out rougher than intended, but it was enough to make her head snap up. Her tear-streaked face came into view, and for a brief moment, her expression twisted in surprise. Then, just as quickly, she wiped at her eyes and looked away.

I stared at her, the weight in my chest growing heavier. "What's wrong?" My voice was quieter this time.

Nicole stiffened the moment she noticed me. She quickly wiped at her face, trying to erase any trace of her tears. "Go away, Liam. This doesn't concern you."

I didn't move. I didn't snap back, didn't argue. Instead, I let out a slow breath and lowered myself to the ground beside her.

Nicole's eyes narrowed as she turned to glare at me. "Why are you still here?" Her voice was sharp, laced with frustration and exhaustion.

I rested my arms on my knees, staring straight ahead. "I'm not good at this," I admitted, my tone rough but quiet. "But it seems like you need company, so I'll sit here till you tell me if you want."

Nicole blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected that—not from me.

A few beats of silence passed before she asked, "Why do you care?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair before exhaling sharply. "Because… I was an asshole." The words felt heavy, foreign on my tongue. "I said things I shouldn't have." I glanced at her, then quickly looked away, feeling out of my depth. "I'm… sorry."

It wasn't the best apology. It was rough, awkward. But it was sincere.

Nicole stared at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she whispered, "It's my mom's death anniversary."

I stayed quiet, but something in my chest twisted. I understood now.

And for once, instead of pushing her away, I just sat there.

Even though I understood it, words had never been my thing. Comfort wasn't something I was built for. I didn't say anything right away, didn't try to force words that would sound awkward coming from me.

So, I spoke from the heart.

"What does one do in these moments?" My voice was quiet, almost unsure. "Do you offer a prayer… or just stare at oblivion?"

Nicole blinked at me, startled. She studied my face like she was trying to decipher something, but I didn't look at her. I kept my gaze ahead, fixated on the night sky that offered no answers.

When she didn't respond, I glanced at her. "Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No… it's just unexpected." A pause. Then, softly, "What do you do on your mom's anniversary?"

I exhaled slowly, staring into the dark.

I didn't answer right away—because I didn't have an answer.

"I don't do anything," I admitted, my voice flat. "I don't even know the exact day."

Nicole's breath hitched, but she didn't say anything. Maybe she was trying to be careful with her words, or maybe she didn't know what to say.

A dry chuckle escaped me. "I just keep moving forward. There's no time to stop and dwell on things that can't change." The words came out hollow, as if they didn't quite belong to me.

Nicole's fingers curled into her sleeves. "But… do you ever want to?"

That question made something tighten in my chest.

Want to?

I didn't know. Maybe. Maybe not.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to answer. "I wouldn't know where to start."

Nicole looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. "You start by remembering… by holding onto the good moments, even if they hurt."

Her words settled deep inside me, like a weight pressing against my ribs.

But how could I remember when all I had were scattered fragments? When every time I tried, all I saw was her pale, bloody face—flashes of a moment too painful to piece together?

I never tried to remember because I was afraid. Afraid that if I did, I'd realize I had already forgotten too much.

"All I have are fragments. For some reason when I try I don't remember anything" I said as I swallowed hard.

Nicole lifted her gaze, studying me with something unreadable in her eyes. Pity? Understanding? I wasn't sure, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

She hesitated, then softly asked, "What do you remember?"

I swallowed again, the weight in my throat making it hard to speak. "Flashes," I admitted. "Scattered moments that don't fit together. Her voice… I think it was soft. But I can't hear it clearly anymore." My fingers curled into fists. "Her face… I only remember it covered in blood."

Nicole inhaled sharply, but I kept my eyes forward, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"For the longest time, I told myself it didn't matter," I continued, my voice rougher now. "That remembering wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't bring her back." I let out a slow breath. "But now… I don't know."

Nicole's grip on her sleeves tightened. "Forgetting doesn't make it hurt less," she murmured. "It just makes the loss feel… heavier."

I let her words sink in, let them poke at the parts of me I usually ignored.

Forgetting didn't make it hurt less.

So why did remembering feel just as painful?

Nicole shifted slightly beside me, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Her voice was quieter now, more fragile. "I don't have any memory with my mom either. She died after she gave birth to me."

I turned to her then, watching as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. Her usual fire was gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable.

"But even if I don't have any memory," she went on, "I try to remember the things Elise tells me of my mother"

Her words settled deep, latching onto something inside me that I wasn't ready to confront.

I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. "I don't know if I can."

Nicole finally looked at me, her expression softer than I'd ever seen it. "You don't have to do it alone."

That caught me off guard.

I stared at her, unsure of what to say. I wasn't used to people saying things like that to me. Wasn't used to the idea that maybe—just maybe—I didn't have to keep everything buried inside.

The silence stretched between us, but for once, it didn't feel uncomfortable.

Maybe… it was okay to remember.

Nicole's eyes shimmered with quiet resolve. "I have an idea," she murmured, her voice soft yet certain. "Let's both offer prayers to our mothers."

I blinked, caught off guard. The words settled in my chest, unfamiliar and heavy. My lips parted slightly, but no sound came. I wasn't sure what stunned me more—the suggestion itself or the thought that someone else believed I was capable of something so... gentle.

Before I could find the words to respond, Nicole reached out, her fingers brushing against mine before she instinctively took hold of my hands. The touch was light, almost hesitant, yet steady.

For a moment, she stilled. Her skin tingled with the realization—my hands were rough, battle-worn, the kind that had endured hardship and violence. And yet, despite their calloused texture, they carried a warmth that was unexpectedly comforting, a quiet strength that made her feel... safe.

A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as she looked up, her gaze meeting mine. Time seemed to slow, the air between us charged with something unspoken. I didn't pull away. I just stared, my eyes still wide with surprise, but there was something else in them—something raw, something uncertain.

Nicole's heartbeat stuttered. For the first time since meeting me, she saw not just the hardened avenger, but the boy underneath—the one who had lost, the one who wasn't sure how to heal.

My eyes locked onto Nicole's, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. The silence stretched between us, charged with something unspoken. But as the weight of it settled in, a flicker of discomfort stirred within me. My fingers twitched, and before I could stop myself, I slowly pulled my hands back, slipping them free from her grasp.

The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but Nicole felt it. A quiet pang of disappointment settled in her chest—she hadn't realized how much she liked the warmth of my hands around hers until it was gone.

"Sorry," I muttered, my voice low, uncertain. "I just... wasn't expecting that."

Nicole's blush deepened as she quickly averted her gaze, trying to mask the awkwardness creeping between us. "It's okay," she said, forcing a small, almost dismissive laugh. "I just thought it would be nice to... you know, pray together."

I gave a slow nod, my expression still wary. "Ugh. Okay." The words came out stiff, unnatural, like I was agreeing to something I didn't quite understand.

The tension between us thickened, stretching like an invisible thread pulled too tight. A part of me wondered if I had just made things worse, if pulling away had been the wrong move. Maybe I should have just let it be, let the moment happen, see where it took us. But something about it felt off—like I was stepping into territory I wasn't ready for.

Nicole let out a quiet breath, hugging her arms to herself. The silence felt heavier now, a fog refusing to lift. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Let's just... pray, then."

Her words held a quiet sincerity, an invitation without pressure. And for once, I didn't resist.

I nodded, my eyes still cautious, making no further move to touch her or close the space between us. Nicole inhaled deeply, then closed her eyes, her hands resting in her lap as she began to pray. Her voice was soft, steady—a quiet murmur against the stillness of the night.

I shut my eyes, trying to focus, but my thoughts wouldn't settle. The warmth of her hands still lingered on my skin, stirring something unfamiliar inside me. It had been a long time since I'd let anyone get that close. Maybe I wasn't ready for it. Maybe I never would be.

As Nicole prayed, her expression softened, her features serene in a way I hadn't seen before. There was a quiet strength in her, a peace that felt foreign to me. I opened my eyes, stealing a glance at her.

She looked… free. Unburdened, even if just for this moment.

And for a brief second, something twisted inside me—envy, maybe. Because I hadn't felt that kind of peace in a long time. Not since… everything.

Nicole finished her prayer, her lips moving in a silent whisper before she opened her eyes and looked at me. A small, genuine smile touched her face.

"Thanks for praying with me," she said, her voice gentle.

I hesitated, then gave a small nod. "No problem." The words felt awkward on my tongue, like I wasn't sure if I really meant them or if I just didn't know what else to say.

Silence stretched between us, heavy yet not entirely unwelcome. Part of me wanted to stand up, walk away, escape the emotions swirling inside me before they became too much. But another part of me—one I didn't quite understand—didn't want to leave just yet.

I took a step back, something in me urging retreat. The emotions stirring inside me—ones I didn't fully understand—felt too close, too raw.

"Hey, Nicole," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

She looked up, her tear-streaked face calmer now, though traces of sadness still lingered in her eyes. "Yeah?"

I hesitated, the words forming before I could second-guess them. "You're pretty strong, you know that?"

Nicole blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged, shifting my weight uncomfortably. "I watched you fight. You're not just some pampered princess. You can hold your own."

For a second, she just stared at me, and then, slowly, a soft smile curved her lips—one that wasn't forced, wasn't weighed down by grief.

"Thanks, Liam," she murmured. "That means a lot coming from you."

Something unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I didn't know what it was, and I wasn't sure I wanted to figure it out.

"Anyway, I'll see you around," I said quickly, turning to leave before I could say something else—something I might regret.

"Wait, Liam!" Nicole called after me, but I didn't stop. I was already moving, already fading into the night, letting the shadows swallow me whole.

As she watched me disappear into the shadows, Nicole felt something stir inside her—a small, unexpected spark of happiness. For a fleeting moment, it felt like we had truly connected, like we had shared something real.

She replayed my words in her mind, turning them over like a precious stone. "You're pretty strong, you know that?" The gruffness in my voice had almost made it sound reluctant, but my eyes… they had held something else. Something genuine.

A soft warmth bloomed in her chest. Maybe I didn't see her as just some pampered princess. Maybe, in that brief exchange, I had acknowledged her strength—not just in battle, but as a person.

The thought sent a quiet thrill through her, an unfamiliar hope creeping in. What if? What if we could be more than reluctant allies? More than just people thrown together by circumstance?

Her heart quickened at the thought, but she quickly shook her head, scolding herself. It was foolish to get carried away. I was distant, guarded—a fortress with walls too high to climb. And yet… I had come to her tonight. I had listened. I had stayed.

A small smile tugged at her lips. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. But for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe in the possibility.

Nicole let out a quiet sigh, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat there, staring at the spot where I had stood just moments ago. The night air was cool against her skin, but the warmth in her chest lingered.

She had always known I was difficult—prickly, distant, and impossible to read. But tonight, I had sat with her. I had listened. I had spoken words that felt uncharacteristically kind, even if they were rough around the edges.

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling softly. Maybe she shouldn't think too much about it. Maybe it was just a fleeting moment, a rare slip in my usual cold demeanor. But something about it felt… different.

Nicole closed her eyes, her mother's memory filling her mind once more. The ache of loss was still there, but it wasn't as suffocating as before. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel so alone.

And maybe, just maybe, neither did I.

I walked through the dimly lit corridors, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. My expression was unreadable, but my mind was anything but calm.

What the hell was that?

I had planned to check on Nicole, maybe say a few words and leave. But instead, I had stayed. I had prayed with her. And then—I had complimented her?

I scowled at myself, running a frustrated hand through my hair. I wasn't the type to comfort people. I wasn't the type to stay. But when I had seen Nicole crying, something in me had refused to walk away.

I could still feel the ghost of her hands in mine, warm despite the cool air. I could still see the way her eyes had softened when I told her she was strong.

I clenched my jaw, shaking the thoughts away. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. I had a mission—revenge, survival, nothing else.

And yet, as I pushed open the door to my dorm room, I couldn't shake the strange feeling settling in my chest.

A feeling I didn't know how to name.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, lost in thought. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside my window.

No matter how hard I tried to push it aside, the memory of tonight clung to me. Nicole's voice, the warmth of her hands, the way her eyes had shimmered with something I couldn't quite place—it all lingered, refusing to be ignored.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. This is stupid. I had more important things to focus on. Apologizing to Ken. Tracking down Steve. Preparing for whatever the hell was coming next.

And yet, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't just thinking about revenge.

I flopped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

Maybe I wasn't as heartless as I thought. Maybe, somewhere deep down, there was still a part of me that could care.

The thought unsettled me.

With a quiet scoff, I turned onto my side, closing my eyes. I had done enough thinking for one night.

Tomorrow, I'd deal with whatever came next.

For now, I'd let the silence take over.

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