Craig's steps were slow, each one dragging like he had chains wrapped around his ankles.
He wasn't just walking back to her, he was dragging the weight of a truth so heavy, and every inch closer felt like stepping into a storm he wasn't ready for, but couldn't run from.
The very name he was trying to wield as a weapon was the one destroying her life.
His mind spiraled, splintering in too many directions. His father. The Dean. The realization that this wasn't just institutional politics, it was personal.
Targeted.
And somehow, he was part of the reason she was being expelled.
When he saw her again, sitting just where he left her by the fountain. God, he didn't know how to face her.
And when she looked up at him, and offered a soft, tentative, "Hey," the look on her face hit him like a punch.
Something twisted in his chest, sharp and merciless. She looked tired, but steady like she was trying to hold both of them together now.
