They exchange knowing looks.
"We've known this for weeks," Isla says. "We were just waiting for you to figure it out."
"How long have you known?"
"Since he showed up at Thornhill. The way you talk about him, even when you're angry, that's not indifference. That's hurt love."
"Hurt love?"
"Love that got wounded but never died. It's still there, just buried under three years of pain."
I put my head in my hands. "This is such a mess."
"So un-mess it," Lennox says practically. "You know the truth now. You understand why he did what he did and he's proven he can respect your boundaries. So what's stopping you?"
"Fear. What if I forgive him and he disappoints me again? What if his parents come back? What if?—"
"What if it works?" Isla interrupts. "What if you take the risk and it's actually worth it?"
"I don't know if I'm brave enough for that."
"You're Ivy Chen. You're brave enough for anything."
The next day, I do something impulsive.
I go to Ethan's dorm. Haven't been there since that first week. Marcus opens the door.
"Ivy! Hey. Uh, Ethan's not here. He's at the library."
"Which library?"
"The science one. Third floor. He's been hiding out there since..." He trails off diplomatically.
"Since I told him to give me space."
"Yeah. That." Marcus leans against the doorframe. "For what it's worth? He's miserable. Has been for weeks. Whatever happened between you two, he's genuinely trying to do better."
"I know. That's why I'm here."
I head to the science library, the one building on campus I never go to. Find him exactly where Marcus said, tucked into a corner study carrel, surrounded by books and notes.
He doesn't see me approaching. I watch him for a moment. He looks tired. Thinner than when he arrived at Thornhill. Like he hasn't been taking care of himself.
"Hi," I say quietly.
He jumps, knocking over his coffee. "Shit—Ivy?" He scrambles to save his notes from the spill. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to talk to you."
"Is it about the project? Because I have the final draft ready?—"
"It's not about the project." I sit in the chair across from him. "It's about us."
He goes very still, papers in his hand, dripping with coffee. "Okay."
"I've been thinking. About what you told me. About your parents, about your feelings, about everything."
"And?"