It was Monday morning, and Hillary stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of her coat. Her movements were a little slow, but far better than how she felt Saturday night—when just walking had made her legs tremble.

She wasn't back to normal, not even close. She'd already skipped swim practice for two days now, despite the National Championships being twelve days away, but she knew she'd needed it to get back to normal. Her body still ached faintly, but she could breathe without wanting to cry, and that felt like progress.

She reached for her school-bag and paused. Her old phone, with its chipped paint and cracked screen, sat forgotten on her desk. Her father had temporarily fixed her old phone and transferred all of her mobile's memory into it when she told him she'd lost her phone. Made up a whole story of how it had slipped her fingers near a drain and fell into it. They'd had a bit of laugh laugh over it.

Her phone blinked again, with dozens of unread notifications. Messages were flooding her inbox and the club's page ever since the concert ended—some from friends and guests, while most were from total strangers who'd attended the fundraiser and loved it. Compliments, emojis, heartfelt congratulations. Some people had tagged her in stories or shared pictures from the event, writing things like "Best night ever!" or "So proud of what the club pulled-off!"

Their fundraiser had gotten a lot of media attention, since Chris Royson was a budding performer and people loved physiotherapists. The club had also been receiving numerous offers for sponsorship deals and collaborations for their next fundraiser.

Hillary felt overwhelmed every time her phone buzzed. She hadn't had the strength to look at her phone yesterday. Sunday had passed in a blur of sleep and more sleep. She remembered crawling into bed Saturday night, barely awake. Her body had crashed. She slept through entire Sunday.

Guilt tugged at her chest for not replying sooner, but she consoled herself—If they were good, they'd understand that she'd taken a bit of time off. If they were already pissed that she hadn't gotten back to them sooner, what was one more day?

But the most important of all her worries was yet to be resolved. She still couldn't remember what happened to her the day before, no matter how much she thought about it. Shd remembered going to swim practice, remembered practice and taking the performance tests, but after that, absolutely nothing.

She didn't have any external bruises to show her what happened before Kai found her. Dev had said she'd had some residual water in her lungs, and her salt balance had gotten screwed up due to excess water ingestion, but that didn't make much sense either.

Those were signs of drowning, and she was a goddamn national swimmer! She wasn't even near a water body when she woke up in that alley.

She shuddered remembering the cold. That was what really got her. The temperatures that had dropped too fast. Her cold urticaria flare up was the worst she'd ever experienced ever, given that she was usually prepared for it. She still couldn't fathom the thought that if not for Kai tracking her down when he did, she'd have died.

Everything after that felt like a hazy dream she'd lived through. She had managed the entire fundraiser on auto-pilot, not really registering anything.

Her sweet oblivious parents had tiptoed around her all Sunday, assuming she was just tired from all the running around and the cold urticaria. She'd told them that she'd had two reactions the day of the fundraiser—mild ones, she'd clarified, and conveniently left out the major one she'd had the night before.

And they'd believed her. Told her to sleep in as much as she needed. She felt guilty to misuse their trust this way, especially ever since Dev was that specific for her to tell her dad. But what was there to tell?

Neither of them had any idea how bad things had really gotten for her. But the worse thing was, neither did she.

*****

Hillary walked into the kitchen to the warm, comforting smell of breakfast. Her dad stood by the stove, drinking coffee.

"Morning, sweetheart," he greeted with a grin, nudging her plate of toast and scrambled eggs toward her. "Eat up before your mom gets down, all ready."

She nodded with a smile and sat down. Her appetite was still lagging, but it was definitely better than Saturday night. Her dad leaned on the counter across from her, watching her with a subtle yet careful gaze. Like he was still trying to figure out if she was okay.

She tried to smile with confidence. "I'm good, Dad. Just a little sore."

"You slept like a rock yesterday. I think we could have set off fireworks down here yesterday, and even then we couldn't have woken you."

Hillary rolled her eyes as her mom entered, car keys in hand.

"Come on, Hil," she said gently. "I'll drop you off. It's still snowing. We don't want you out in it more than you have to be."

Hillary blinked, surprised. "But I have swim practice after school—"

"We've got that covered too," her mom interrupted, taking her cup of coffee with a reassuring smile. "Your dad's taking time off work until his wrist gets better. He'll pick you up after school, drop you at practice, and wait until you're done." Her dad joined in at that. "It's a shame I can't use my sports bike, but nothing to worry about. I can still drive the car—just very slowly."

Hillary nodded, feeling immensely grateful. She'd been dreading the walk to school since morning. "Thank you so much."

Hillary tightened her coat around her as they walked to the car and slipped into the passenger seat. Her mom reached over and turned on the seat warmer without a word. Hillary felt immensely grateful for having such wonderful, understanding and considerate parents. The guilt once again reminding her of all the things she was keeping from them.

*****

Tyson's Monday was off to a fantastic start—if fantastic meant getting summoned to the principal's office first thing in the morning.

Despite being here on a sports scholarship, Tyson's status as the world Beyblade champion elevated him high amongst the student body. But unfortunately, that didn't mean he could avoid trouble like they did. If anything, students on scholarship were scrutinized more.

Tyson sighed as he stood pushed the heavy wooden door and walked in. He already had a feeling about what this was about. He sure as hell knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.

Seated behind the large desk was the principal Mr Nakamura, an old man with a sharp gaze. To his right stood two more teachers—Mr. Fujimura, the school's disciplinary head along with his class teacher, Mrs. Yoshida. Not a good sign at all.

"Mr. Granger," the principal began, folding his hands on the desk. "I assume you know why you're here."

Tyson crossed his arms. "Not really, sir. But I do have some guesses..." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Not one smiled.

The principal nodded instead, pushing forward a tablet that showed a video he'd seen at least a dozen times by the end of the weekend—Cassie on stage, the Beyblade flying towards her, followed by Tyson catching it effortlessly.

"Care to explain?"

Tyson frowned. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"Was it?" Nakamura leaned forward. "Because to an outsider, this could very well look like a staged act to draw more attention to yourself."

Tyson blinked. "What?"

When Tyson had come in, he had been expecting a reprimand for dealing with the beybladers on school grounds, but no way had he thought that he would be accused of being a part of the chaos.

Mr Fujimura nodded. "We believe that there could be a chance that the entire incident was pre-planned. That it was meant to add spectacle, despite endangering a student. And given your reputation—"

"My reputation?" Tyson repeated, eyebrows raising.

"You are a showman, Mr. Granger," Nakamura tsked. "Your matches are high-energy, and the crowd loves that. It wouldn't be the first time a student thought of adding some little... theatrics."

Tyson's hands clenched into fists. "That wasn't a stunt at all, sir! Those guys actually attacked us on stage!"

Nakamura studied him, then sighed. "And yet, rather than panicking, which would be normal in such a situation, you turned it into a joke. A very convenient way to avoid scrutiny."

Tyson exhaled sharply. "Because I didn't want people freaking out! You think I wanted someone aiming a blade at Cassie?!"

Nakamura held up a hand. "Lower your voice, Tyson."

Tyson's anger spiked, his jaw tightening. "This is ridiculous! I'm telling you. That blade came out of nowhere! I'm not interested in unnecessary publicity, I get it enough as it is!"

Seeing their suspicious looks, he continued, "I was very specific that I didn't even want my name mentioned anywhere in the posters because I didn't want to take away even a bit of spotlight from Royson! It was his moment to shine. He'd worked hard for it, and he deserved it! And most important of all, I'd never endanger Cassie or for that matter anyone for a bit of media coverage!"

The principal gave him an unreadable look before sighing. "This school has an image to uphold, Mr Granger. We just didn't want to have unnecessary complications, especially from one of our most prominent students."

Tyson scowl deepened. "I wasn't the one who threw the Beyblade. You do realize that, right?" He was about to argue further when Nakamura tapped the tablet again, diverting his attention.

A different video played—this time, from four days ago. "There's also your altercation with Robb."

Tyson's was caught off guard at this. In the chaos of yesterday's battle and the concert before that, he'd completely forgotten about Robb.

"You attacked a fellow student-," Mr. Fujima started.

Tyson's patience snapped. "I defended Hillary! He was trying to intimidate her—"

His class teacher cut-in, silencing him. "Regardless, there are proper channels to handle these situations."

Tyson clenched his fists, his bandaged palm throbbing slightly. This was a lost cause, he realised. They weren't listening. They had already decided he was the problem.

"So, let me get this straight," he said sharply. "Some guy throws a Beyblade at Cassie, I stop it, and I'm the one getting questioned? Some guy tries to intimidate Hillary, and I step in, and I'm the one in trouble? What's next? You're going to tell me I should've just let it happen?"

"Watch your tone, young man." Mr Fujimura warned. All three of them exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed with his defiance.

The principal exhaled in mild exasperation. "Tyson, if you can't control your temper, you're going to find yourself in serious trouble."

Tyson was about to snap back when they were interrupted by a knock.

"Come in." The principal called out, eyebrows creased.

*****

Cassie hadn't heard from Kai.

A weekend had passed by, and still not a call. Not a text. After nearly having her face taken off by a stray Beyblade, she figured the bare minimum would be a "You okay?" But no. She got absolutely nothing.

It wasn't like she was expecting him to come running. But still—this was Kai she was talking about. The guy knew someone needed support even before they themselves knew of it. Was it too much to expect this of him when she was supposed to be his girlfriend?

Cassie sighed, stepping inside her AP Chemistry class ten minutes early, meaning to cool her head before class began—but froze instead.

Standing near the back window, were two silhouettes. It wasn't hard to guess who they were. Kai and Hillary.

Cassie stopped short at the door, heart thudding. There were standing near the window, half-shielded by the curtains, but she could see them just fine.

They weren't doing anything wrong. No touching. No whispering. No soft smiles or charged glances.

But still.

Cassie saw the angle of Kai's shoulders, the way he leaned in. His expression was sharp, slightly tired, but serious. Hillary stood in front of him, listening like it mattered. Like the world didn't exist beyond that small bubble of theirs.

Cassie ducked slightly behind the doors, hiding. They were yet to notice her. She didn't know what they were saying, but it didn't matter. Her mind was already filling in the blanks.

Hillary again.

Always damn Hillary.

She'd noticed it for weeks now—how Kai scanned Hillary's face like he was trying to read beneath the surface. The way he listened to her intently when she spoke. Then there was the matter of the bracelet—the one she'd never really gotten around to asking about.

She didn't know what they were to each other, but they definitely weren't just lab partners.

It just didn't add up. They shared too many unspoken things. Glances. Silences.

You're being paranoid, she told herself. This means nothing.

But it didn't feel like nothing.

Especially not after how completely ignored she'd been by him. By Laura too.

Because Laura—her best friend—hadn't checked in on her either.

Laura, who always had something to say, hadn't visited, hadn't called, hadn't even messaged to ask her if she was okay after the incident. It stung, more than Cassie wanted to admit.

And Hillary...

Hillary had checked in. She'd come over, asked if she was alright, hovered at the doorway awkwardly, concern plain on her face.

But that was the thing.

Hillary was still the girl who'd appeared out of nowhere and flipped her entire world inside out. The new national swim champion. The Bellona house's prefect. The Amity Club president. The one everyone liked.

Cassie couldn't bring herself to hate her. Hillary wasn't cruel or manipulative. She wasn't arrogant.

But she was everything Cassie used to be. Everything she wasn't anymore.

And now she was standing with Kai. The one person outside the BladeBreakers that Kai even bothered talking to .

Was she reading too much into this? Maybe .

But those tiny seeds of doubt had been taking root for long now. And right now, watching the two of them exchange whatever they were exchanging—she was absolutely done with this emotional rollercoaster .

*****

Words: 2345

*****

A/N: Well, I couldn't stay away... I can't stay long either. I hope you guys like this chapter. 

Vote and comment guys! 

This happens to be my highlight of the week too, seeing all the votes and comments pour in! Please don't deprave me of that happy feeling! 

What do you think Cassie will do next? Do you think Hillary's father knows? What do you think is the mystery about him? What do you think about Tyson's situation? Comment guys! 

Also, we've reached 50 chapters and soon to cross 600 votes! Yippee!!!!!