The week after Melissa opened up to Ginny felt strangely lighter.
She laughed more easily. She studied harder. She even started humming when she thought no one was listening — something Ginny noticed and secretly celebrated.
But not everything was simple.
Especially not when Alec was still there.
It was after school, the corridors almost empty, when Melissa bumped into him.
Literally.
Rounding the corner, clutching her music sheets, she collided with a tall, familiar figure.
"Woah," Alec steadied her instinctively, his hands gentle on her arms.
Melissa froze.
The smell of his cologne hit her — sharp and painfully nostalgic.
She jerked back instantly.
"Sorry," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"Melissa—" his voice was softer than she expected. Almost... careful.
She tightened her grip on her sheets, backing away, but Alec stepped forward, just once.
"I didn't know... that night," he said quietly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I didn't know how much I messed you up."
Melissa stared at him.
"I thought it was just a joke. Just harmless." He smiled bitterly. "I was such an idiot."
The apology, if it was one, hung awkwardly between them.
Melissa swallowed.
Part of her wanted to scream. Part of her wanted to cry.
And a very, very small part of her — the broken, stupid part — wanted to believe him.
But before she could say anything, another voice cut through the tension.
"Melissa," Dayne called from down the hallway, jogging towards them.
Relief flooded her so fast it made her dizzy.
Dayne's hand brushed her shoulder casually, but the message was clear: You're not alone.
Alec's eyes darkened for a moment.
But he just gave a crooked, tired smile.
"See you around, Mel," he said before walking away.
Melissa stared after him, heart thudding painfully.
Dayne studied her carefully once Alec disappeared.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low.
She nodded, forcing a smile.
"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to," Dayne said, stepping a little closer. His voice was rough, protective.
"I know," Melissa said quietly.
Dayne hesitated, then brushed a stray lock of hair from her face with his fingers.
"You deserve better," he said simply.
Melissa's chest tightened.
And for the first time, the memory of Alec's kiss didn't hurt quite as much.
Because now, there was Dayne.
Gentle. Respectful. There.
She didn't know where this was heading.
But for the first time, she wasn't scared to find out.
Later that evening, Melissa sat in the music room, letting her fingers glide over the piano keys.
Soft, hesitant notes filled the empty space.
Ginny was right.
She was healing.
Not fast.
Not perfectly.
But piece by piece, she was finding herself again.
And maybe, just maybe, she'd find love too — the real kind.
The kind that didn't hurt.