The hallway feels colder than it should.

You don’t even remember walking out—you just know you’re here now, pacing, phone still in your hand, grip tight.

A few seconds pass.

Then the door opens behind you.

“Wait—”

Celeste.

You don’t turn around.

“Can you not just leave like that?” she says, a little out of breath.

You laugh under your breath. “Not leave? That’s crazy.”

She steps closer.

“It’s not what it—”

You turn this time.

“No, don’t do that,” you cut her off. “Don’t say that.”

Silence hits between you.

For once, she doesn’t have anything ready to say.

You shake your head.

“I literally did your homework,” you say, voice tight. “I was out there doing your stuff, and you’re in there—”

You stop yourself.

You don’t even want to finish it.

Her expression shifts a little—guilt, maybe. But it’s buried under something else. Pride. Defensiveness.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she says.

That lands harder than anything.

“…Wow.”

You look away, jaw tight.

“Yeah, you didn’t,” you admit. “That’s on me.”

Another pause.

She softens a little. Just a little.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet,” she says, quieter now.

You let out a dry laugh.

“That’s the problem, Celeste. You didn’t think. At all.”

She exhales, frustrated now.

“It’s just a bed.”

That’s it.

That’s the line that flips something.

You stare at her.

“Just a—” you stop, shaking your head. “It’s my bed.”

Your voice drops, more controlled—but way more serious.

“My stuff was there.”

She looks back at you, matching your energy now.

“Okay, and? It’s a shared room.”

“No,” you say immediately. “There’s a difference between shared space and basic respect.”

Silence again.

Heavier this time.

People pass by in the hallway, but neither of you move.

Then she crosses her arms.

“You’re overreacting.”

You blink once.

Slow.

Like you’re trying to decide if you even heard that right.

“…I’m overreacting?”

She doesn’t back down.

And that’s when you feel it shift.

Not just anger anymore.

Distance.

“You know what,” you say quietly, stepping back. “It’s fine.”

She frowns slightly. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you repeat. “Now I know.”

“Know what?”

You look at her for a second.

Then—

“What kind of person you are.”

That one’s quiet.

But it hits.

You turn and start walking down the hallway again.

This time—

She doesn’t follow.