The next morning, Melissa found herself sitting alone on a bench near the fountain.
The sun warmed her skin, but inside she felt cold and restless.
She had spent half the night replaying Alec's words in her mind.
"You weren't just... anyone."
What was that supposed to mean?
Another manipulation? Another lie?
She hugged her knees closer to her chest.
"Mind if I join?"
Dayne's voice was soft, carrying a cautiousness Melissa appreciated.
She nodded wordlessly.
Dayne sat down beside her, not too close, not too far.
The perfect distance.
He pulled out a small brown paper bag from his backpack and handed it to her.
"What's this?"
"Emergency chocolate chip muffins," he said with a grin. "Cafeteria's best-kept secret."
Despite herself, Melissa smiled.
The muffins were slightly crushed but smelled amazing.
She broke a piece and popped it into her mouth.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sharing the muffins.
Dayne finally spoke.
"You don't have to tell me anything, Melissa. But if you ever feel like... sharing, or screaming, or even throwing muffins at someone, I volunteer."
Melissa let out a small laugh, muffled by the bite she was chewing.
"You're weird," she said.
"Takes one to know one," Dayne winked.
For the first time in days, Melissa felt a tiny sliver of peace slip into her chest.
Maybe — just maybe — not everyone would hurt her.
Later that afternoon, the music club had another practice session.
The room felt heavier today, filled with undercurrents Melissa wished she could ignore.
As she tuned her keyboard, Alec walked in, his guitar slung over his shoulder.
He was wearing a dark hoodie, sleeves pushed up, exposing the veins running down his arms.
He looked... messy. Unpolished. Angry at the world.
Their eyes met briefly before Melissa looked away.
Dayne noticed, of course.
He didn't say anything — but he adjusted his seat so he was a clear barrier between Alec and Melissa.
It was a small move, but it made Melissa's throat tighten.
They started practicing a new song — a slow, aching melody about regret and forgiveness.
Alec's guitar solo was rough around the edges.
Melissa's fingers stumbled once or twice.
The air between them sparked and frayed.
Dayne's voice steadied the room, smooth and patient.
At the end of the session, Ginny suggested they all go for coffee.
"I have some work," Melissa said quickly, grabbing her bag.
"I'll walk you," Dayne offered casually.
Melissa hesitated, glancing at Alec — who was staring at her, unreadable.
"Sure," she said.
Dayne and Melissa exited together, while Alec stood frozen, the guitar strap slipping from his fingers.
As they walked toward the library, Dayne broke the silence.
"You know... no matter how broken your strings get, Melissa — you can always replace them."
She looked at him, confused.
He shrugged.
"Broken strings don't mean the music's over. Just means it's time for new strings... maybe a new song too."
Melissa smiled at him — a real, genuine smile.
Maybe it wasn't the end.
Maybe it was just a new beginning.