STRINGS BETWEEN US

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE OF LANTERNS, LOOKING BACK, AND THE ROOFTOP THAT HELD EVERYTHI

No lights. No crowd.
Just me.

And everything I hadn't said.

The last few weeks were a blur—of headlines, hearings, halls filled with judgment, fake smiles, real anger, and one too many moments of choking silence.

And KD?

He'd disappeared right when I needed him. Right when it started to hurt more than it should have.

The rooftop door creaked open.

Of course.

I didn't turn. Didn't have to.

I just listened. To the stillness shifting. To the air slowing down. To the sound of footsteps that had haunted this rooftop long before either of us admitted we cared.

"You don't get to walk in like that," I said flatly, staring out into the night. "Not after disappearing."

No answer. Classic KD.

"You left, KD."

Still nothing.

I turned. My fists clenched. My throat tightening like I'd swallowed every unanswered question in the entire school.

"You didn't text. You didn't explain. You just vanished. And I had to guess—every damn day—whether you were fine or bleeding somewhere behind a locked door."

He didn't flinch. He just stood there, like stone.
Like he was waiting for me to break first.

So I did what any emotionally-stable, rage-fueled girl would do.

I punched him. Once. Then again. Right against the chest.

Not to hurt. Just to make him feel something.

"You said you liked me." The words slipped out cracked and furious. "But you left."

Another hit. My voice shook. And he just stood there—still.

"You didn't even respond to my voice message," I choked.
And softer—
"I hate you for that."

My hands fell back to my sides. Fingers numb. Chest tight.

He stepped forward—slow—and caught my wrists before they slipped completely. He didn't stop me. He just held me like I was something fragile and on fire all at once.

And then I felt it.

The tears.

God, not now.

I tried to blink fast. To breathe. To pretend.

But it was too late.
One slipped down. Then another.

"You said you liked me," I whispered again, voice small and furious.
"But you disappeared like I didn't matter. Like I was just collateral."

He didn't defend himself. He didn't argue. He just pulled me into him. No hesitation. No speech. Just warmth. Like I could unravel here and not be judged for it.

"I wasn't scared of Bianchi," I whispered into his chest. "I was scared of you leaving. For real."

His arms tightened around me. The kind of hold that anchored. That said: You're not alone. Not this time.

And then, finally—

"I didn't leave you, Riyee," he said quietly.

I didn't move.

"I left everything else. I needed space to move without dragging you into it. I needed to fix what I broke before I gave you anything real."

I pulled back, just enough to look him in the eye.

"Then say it." My voice was a whisper. A dare. "Say you still like me."

He didn't even blink.

"I like you, Riyee. I like you still—even now. Even after you punched me. Twice."

I laughed. Stupid. Broken. Real.

And then—

He kissed me.

Soft. Certain. Unrushed.

Like the world had stopped burning for five seconds just to let it happen.

And I kissed him back.

Because this wasn't just about closure.
It wasn't about timing.

It was about finally, finally finding the one place I didn't have to flinch.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

And in the quiet, I heard it—
"I'm here now."

This time?

I didn't question it.

Because for once, he didn't feel like a storm.

He felt like home.