Tyson sat in the stalls with Cassie, watching the chaos unfold in the stadium below. It was Thursday evening, and preparations for the food exhibition and concert were in full swing. The place was a mess of students running around, setting up booths, testing sound equipment, and yelling over each other.

Cassie nervously flipped through the script in her lap, biting her lip. They had spent the better part of the afternoon working on it with Luke's help—until Hillary called him away to check something for her.

"I hope this is okay," she muttered, scanning the pages for the hundredth time.

Tyson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He'd always thought Hillary was the only one who obsessed over details, but Cassie was proving to be just as bad. Maybe worse. Still, he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't looking to offend her.

"Maybe we should come back later," he suggested, glancing toward Hillary. She was scribbling in her planner while hurriedly explaining something to Royson. "She looks busy."

"Maybe she bit off more than she could chew," a voice taunted from behind.

Tyson groaned internally. Laura.

He liked Cassie well enough—anyone who got close to Kai that fast was alright in his book. But her best friend? He couldn't stand her.

For one, she was Kai's ex, and while Kai never asked for it, Tyson made a habit of backing his friends' choices. More than that, though, he hated how she constantly trash-talked Hillary.

Which was hypocritical of him, considering he'd been badmouthing Hillary just last week. But everyone who really knew him understood that was just how it was between them.

Cassie frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Laura smirked. "Things are about to get interesting. Thought I'd give you a heads-up." She winked and walked off.

Tyson barely had time to wonder what she meant before the stadium fell into a tense silence.

A group of students entered through the back entrance—not just walking in, but striding like they owned the place. Moving with purpose.

Straight toward Hillary.

Cassie tensed. "What are they up to now?" she whispered, even though no one else was close enough to hear.

Tyson's stomach twisted. "I don't like this." He stood up and quickly made his way toward the front of the stadium.

Rob and James led the group, with Laura, Jacob, Liza, and five others trailing behind them—the usual crowd. The ones who thought their family names and connections made them untouchable.

Hillary, still unaware, was jotting something down in her planner. Tyson had no idea how that thing still had pages left.

Rob didn't even slow down. He snatched the planner from her hands, catching her off guard.

"You've got a lot of nerve," he said, lazily flipping through the pages. "Acting like you run the place."

Hillary straightened. "I do run the place. Now give it back." Her tone was sharp, controlled.

Rob hummed as if considering it, then shrugged. "Nah."

Before she could grab it, he tossed it over his shoulder. Pages scattered across the floor. Laura laughed.

"Oh no," Zoey mocked. "What are you gonna do now, Hillary? How will you keep us all in line without your precious planner?"

Hillary gritted her teeth. "You're wasting your time."

"No, you're wasting ours," Rob shot back. "Suspending twenty percent of the club just because they weren't 'doing enough'? That's not leadership—it's a power trip."

"You were warned," Hillary said, folding her arms. "You ignored it. That was your decision, not mine."

She almost sounded bored of the conversation. That's my girl, Tyson thought, grinning internally as he stepped into the crowd.

Rob laughed, shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you? We're giving you a chance here. Let us back in, and we forget this ever happened. No need to involve our parents. No need to make this ugly."

Hillary's eyes narrowed. "Ugly?"

James stepped forward. "You're making a mistake, Hillary. Think about it. You really think the principal won't side with us?"

"Then go to the principal," she said coolly. "I'd love to see if she'd lose face by overturning a decision she signed off on four days ago—just to appease a few morons. Please, be my guest."

James's expression darkened. "You little—"

He shoved her. Not hard enough to knock her down, but enough to make a point. Hillary looked more surprised than hurt. She hadn't expected them to get physical.

Tyson moved instantly, stepping between them, blocking her from the rest of the group. "Back off," he said, voice even.

James scoffed. "This isn't your fight, Tyson."

Behind him, Hillary whispered, "What are you doing?" He didn't look at her. Just lifted his hand slightly—a silent signal for her to trust him.

Rob smirked. "Oh, look at this. Tyson Granger, world champion, defending little ol' Hillary. Didn't peg you for the type."

Tyson kept his face blank. "What type?"

"The type to waste his time with this joke of a club. You could be anywhere, doing anything, and you're here? Fighting for this? For her?"

Tyson didn't blink. "If you're trying to convince me, you're doing a crap job."

Rob chuckled. "I'm trying to wake you up, man. You don't need this club. You don't need her."

Zoey crossed her arms. "Seriously, why are you sticking around?"

Tyson's jaw tightened. "Seems like it's not such a 'garbage' club if you're so desperate to get back in."

That wiped the amusement from Rob's face. He turned back to Hillary, sneering. "Oh, I get it. Still playing the golden girl, huh? Perfect grades. Perfect everything. Club president, prefect, swim champion—you've got it all. But we all know how you got there."

"Shut your mouth, Rob," Tyson growled, stepping forward, fists clenching.

Rob grinned. "You think she's innocent, Granger? Please. She's just another upstart, getting by on her looks and her back. Maybe that's how she won the swim title too. But don't worry—I'm sure all the teachers are happy with the little sl*t they've been—"

Tyson moved before anyone could stop him. His fist connected with Rob's face. James grabbed his shirt, but Tyson swung again, knuckles slamming into his jaw.

Shoving. Fists flying. Yelling.

Then hands were on him, pulling him back.

"Enough!" Hillary's voice was sharp, her grip on his wrist surprisingly strong. "That's enough."

Tyson, chest heaving, looked at her. "They—" He cut himself off, grinding his teeth. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at them or himself for not stepping in sooner.

Hillary met his gaze firmly. "We'll deal with it."

Rob wiped his mouth, glaring. "This isn't over."

Hillary stepped forward, voice cold. "You're right. It's not. Because if I see any of you pull this again, I'll make sure you're out of more than just this club."

*****

The air in the infirmary was sterile and cold, but Tyson barely noticed. His mind was still on the fight, on Robert's smug face, and the cruel, disgusting words they had hurled at Hillary. His knuckles still stung, and his right wrist throbbed from the impact, but none of it compared to the anger twisting in his chest.

Hillary sat beside him, rummaging through the medical kit with practiced ease. She hadn't spoken much since they walked in, but her expression was calm—too calm. That bothered him more than anything.

Tyson clenched his fists. "I should've intervened sooner," he muttered.

Hillary didn't even glance up as she poured antiseptic on a cotton pad. "And what good would that have done?"

He scoffed. "Made me feel better, for a start."

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "That's not how this works, Tyson."

"Then how does it work?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "They just get to say whatever the hell they want, and we just sit there and take it? How is that fair?" he demanded, frustration flaring up once again in his chest.

Hillary didn't answer right away. Instead, she took his right hand carefully, examining the swollen wrist. "It's not fair," she admitted softly. "It never has been."

She started wrapping the bandage, her fingers light but firm. "Did you know?" she said after a moment. "Whenever a woman is excelling in her field—when she's doing everything right, when she's proving she belongs—people don't attack her skills. They don't go after her results. They go after her character."

Tyson frowned. "What do you mean?"

Hillary looked up, meeting his gaze. "I mean that when people can't find a flaw in a woman's work, they create one in her reputation." Her voice was steady, but there was something bitter underneath.

"A man who's good at what he does? He gets respect. A woman who's just as good—maybe even better? She must've slept her way there. She must be a manipulative bitch. Or a control freak. Or cold-hearted. Bossy. Mean. People have been pulling the same trick for centuries, Tyson. And it always works." She sighed.

Tyson felt something cold settle in his gut. He thought back to all the times he and the others had dismissed Hillary's hard work, all the times they had joked about her 'bossing them around.' He had never really thought about how it looked from her perspective.

Hillary sighed, turning back to his wrist. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about this. It's not like it was the first time or anything."

Tyson stiffened. "What?"

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "You think this is new? People have been calling me names for years because I was always surrounded by boys. You guys were my friends, my team. But to everyone else? That was enough to slap a label on me."

Tyson's stomach twisted. He never thought about it like that. Never realized.

Hillary took out a plaster next, sticking it to a cut on his forehead. "That's why I distanced myself from the Bladebreakers, you know... The real reason I left."

That threw him off. She'd been planning to leave them even before the whole talk show fiasco? He sat up straighter. "What?"

She tied off the bandage and flexed her fingers, choosing her next words carefully. "I wanted to be known for more than just being 'the girl who follows the Bladebreakers around,' Tyson."

Tyson felt his stomach twist. "Hillary—"

"I needed to build something for myself," she interrupted him gently. "To prove I was more than that. That I was capable of standing on my own." She let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "But maybe people just can't handle a girl who's too good at everything she does."

"You should've told us," he said, voice rough.

Hillary was quiet for a moment. "I didn't tell you because... you saw me as a person. Not a girl." She glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Even when you thought I was a menace, you weren't going after my gender. You guys were pure that way. I didn't want to corrupt you by telling you all this."

Tyson stared at her, horrified. "You actually thought we would become like them—?"

"I didn't want to take that risk." She gently nudged his hand, urging him to move his fingers. He winced, and she frowned. "I think it's just a sprain, but you should still be careful with it."

He barely heard her. His mind was still reeling.

People had been saying things about her for years. Calling her names. Questioning her role in their team. And she had never told them.

Because she had been scared they'd believe it.

Tyson suddenly felt sick.

He wanted to say something—to tell her she should've trusted them, that they would've had her back. But the truth was, he couldn't blame her for keeping it to herself.

That thought made him feel worse than the fight had.

Hillary sighed, pulling back. "You're all set."

Tyson didn't say anything. He was too busy staring at her—really staring at her.

How was she still smiling?

She was up before dawn for swim practice, pushing herself to her limits. Then she took on her prefect duties. She maintained perfect grades, no matter how packed her schedule was. She ran the Amity Club, had been weeding out the jerks from the team while organizing the club's first major fundraiser—alone.

With barely any support.

He knew she had new friends now. Good ones. But the way she carried herself, the way she still took on everything without leaning on them... Tyson could see it. The trust wasn't there yet. Not the way it had been with them.

And then there was the other thing. The thing that made his stomach churn. She still hadn't attended those therapy sessions.

He wanted to bring it up. It had been nagging at the back of his mind for weeks now, but the timing never felt right. And he didn't want to upset her—not after their last fight. That had been ugly. He still regretted it.

After the fundraiser,  he told himself. She'll be slightly free then.

Just a few more days. Then he'd really talk to her about it.

"It's only been four months since we were last together," Hillary whispered, a soft, aching confession. " But it feels like a lifetime ."

Tyson had never heard her sound like this before. Not angry. Not sharp. Just... tired.

She exhaled, shaking her head, but her fingers lingered on the bandage she'd wrapped around his wrist, tightening it slightly—almost like she needed something to hold onto.

"I miss being with you guys," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I miss the stupid fights, the endless training, the way you and Max never shut up, and how Kai always pretended he didn't care, even though he did. I miss us. And the worst part? I don't even know if I belong there anymore."

Tyson stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. It was raw, unguarded. She wasn't asking for anything from him, but he could feel the ache in her chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. What could he possibly say to someone who was carrying so much alone?

Hillary was always so strong. So there for everyone else. But now, seeing her like this—tired, worn thin by a million little things—Tyson realized just how much she'd been holding inside.

"Of course you belong ," he finally managed, his voice rough, but firm. "You're one of us." She didn't respond.  Her lips pressed together, but the weight of his words lingered between them, unsaid.

Tyson exhaled slowly, the air thick between them, but before he could say anything else, Hillary changed the subject, giving him a small smile.

"Try not to punch anyone else for the next twenty-four hours, okay?"

Tyson  chuckled, but the sound felt hollow, trying to push away the heaviness hanging in the room." No promises," he said, but his mind remained on her words, on everything left unsaid, and on how much more there was to fix.

*****

Words :2399

*****

A/N: All right guys, I got the hint. We'll be continuing with the story on the weekly updates. The missed past chapters, I'll update them as bonuses whenever I'm free. (You guys can go back now and show your love to the 10a chapter you know... It really was one of my favorite chapters in this whole part! Or eas it like you guys really didn't like the chapter? What threw you off? Was it too sudden, too out of the blue? )

Anyway, what are your thoughts on this chapter? Do you think this problem will escalate? How so? Now that Hillary has admitted what was her driving motive in maintain distance from the bladebreakers, do you think things will change now?

Vote and comment guys! It really makes my day!

Happy reading!