Chapter 5: Cracks in the Mask

The lecture dragged on, but Chris barely heard a word of it. His focus kept shifting back to Skylar—the way she had straightened her posture, smoothed out her tone, and answered the professor's question as if nothing was wrong.

It was a performance.

He recognized it because he did the same thing every day.

When the class finally ended, students rushed to pack up their things, eager to escape the monotony of economics. Skylar moved slower, as if she wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere.

Chris slung his backpack over his shoulder. "You're good at that," he said casually.

Skylar looked up. "Good at what?"

"Hiding."

She blinked, and for a brief moment, her polished exterior cracked. But then, just as quickly, the mask was back in place. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Chris let out a small chuckle. "Right."

She tilted her head, watching him curiously. "You do it too, you know."

Chris didn't deny it.

Instead, he simply held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary before heading toward the exit.

Skylar hesitated for a second before following. "Where are you going?"

"Lunch," he said over his shoulder.

"Mind if I join?"

Chris glanced at her, a little amused. "You sure? I don't eat at the fancy places you're probably used to."

Skylar smirked. "Maybe I'm expanding my horizons."

---

The small café was nothing special—wooden tables, a counter lined with simple menu boards, and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. It was quiet, a sharp contrast to the usual places Skylar found herself in.

"This is where you eat?" she asked as they slid into a corner booth.

Chris shrugged. "It's cheap, and they don't ask too many questions."

Skylar glanced around. A group of students sat by the window, textbooks sprawled out in front of them. A man in a suit scrolled through his phone, his untouched coffee growing cold.

For the first time in a while, she felt… normal.

No whispered conversations about her family's financial struggles. No subtle nudges toward wealthy suitors. Just a café, a cup of coffee, and a guy who wasn't trying to impress her.

Chris leaned back in his seat, watching her. "So, what's your next move?"

She sighed, stirring her drink absentmindedly. "I don't know. My parents want me to start considering… options."

Chris raised a brow. "By options, you mean rich guys."

Skylar let out a dry laugh. "Pretty much."

Chris tapped his fingers against the table. "And what do you want?"

Skylar hesitated. No one ever asked her that. Not really.

"I want… options that aren't just about money," she admitted. "I want to figure things out for myself."

Chris nodded, as if he understood. Maybe he did.

"Then do it."

She scoffed. "It's not that simple."

Chris leaned forward slightly, his tone quieter now. "It is. You just have to decide whose life you're living—yours or theirs."

Skylar stared at him, caught off guard by how direct he was.

She had spent her whole life surrounded by people who told her what she should do, who she should be. Chris was the first person to tell her she had a choice.

And that terrified her.

Because deep down, she wasn't sure she was brave enough to take it.