Chapter 13
935 Words
Bianca's POV
Bianca leaned her forehead against the cool glass, blinking back the sting of angry tears. She didn’t cry often—wouldn’t let herself. But tonight, she felt like a girl pulled between two worlds: one that felt safe with James, and one that whispered she’d never be enough for the world he came from.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a text:
> Takumi: You okay? Haven’t heard from you. Want to hear your voice.
A tear slid down her cheek. She smiled despite herself.
God, she wanted to answer. To lean into the comfort of him, to pretend there was no war brewing just beneath the surface.
But she wiped her face, picked up her phone, and typed:
> Bianca: Just tired. Long day. Call you in the morning, okay?
She didn’t wait for a reply before putting the phone face down, climbing into bed, and pulling the blankets up like armor.
James’s POV – “The Setup”
James tugged his coat tighter against the chill as he stepped out of the café near campus. He’d grabbed coffee for Bianca, a quiet peace offering after sensing her distance the night before. He wasn’t worried—just… unsettled. She was usually better at pretending.
As he turned the corner, a familiar voice called out.
“James!”
He stopped in his tracks.
Naomi.
She stood near the art gallery steps, breath puffing in the cold, gloved hands wrapped around a steaming cup. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, and her long black coat billowed just enough to give her an effortless elegance.
He groaned internally. Please don’t do this again.
“Naomi,” he said, stiffly polite.
She smiled, too quick. “I was just coming from a study group. Fancy seeing you here.”
“I’m heading back to campus.”
“Let me walk with you,” she offered, already falling into step beside him before he could object.
James kept his pace quick, avoiding eye contact. “You shouldn’t keep forcing this.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “I just wanted to catch up. It’s not like I’m trying to marry you in the middle of Harvard Square.”
He smirked despite himself. “Could’ve fooled me.”
They crossed the quad and paused near the fountain, the campus unusually quiet for a weekend afternoon. Naomi touched his arm lightly to stop him.
“James,” she said softly, “I really am sorry for how this is happening. I never asked your mother to get involved.”
“I know,” he replied. “But you’re still letting her use you.”
Before Naomi could answer, a flash went off—so subtle, James almost missed it.
He turned sharply. A student with a camera, pretending to photograph the architecture. Harmless. Or so it seemed.
He shrugged it off. Paranoia. Until the next morning.
—
Viral Explosion
James’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and unlocked it.
Hundreds of notifications. Twitter. i********:. Even Harvard Confessions.
His name was trending.
There, front and center on every app, was a photo—he and Naomi, by the fountain. Her hand on his arm, his head turned slightly toward her, captured at the perfect angle to suggest intimacy.
Worse?
The photo had been doctored.
The background softened, their faces subtly enhanced. A fake sun flare added. A subtle sparkle in Naomi’s eye. It looked like a damn engagement shoot.
Caption: “Campus royalty! James Saito and Naomi Takahashi spotted together again. Legacy couple goals!”
Hashtags flooded the post: #PowerCouple, #AsianExcellence, #SaitoDynasty.
James stared at it in horror.
Bianca hadn’t texted him yet.
Hell.
His heart sank.
This… this is exactly what his mother wanted.
Bianca’s POV – “Of All the Ways”
Bianca was on her way to drop her lab write-up and head for her class after.
Savannah’s text came first:
“Hey… are you okay?”
Bianca blinked. Okay? She frowned and opened i********:.
Then her stomach dropped.
There it was. Everywhere.
James. Naomi. At the fountain. Her fountain.
The photo didn’t just capture a moment—it created one. The angle was perfect, their closeness misleading, their chemistry… well, edited. But it didn’t matter. The internet had already decided what it looked like.
And what it looked like?
Was beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
Naomi, in her sleek coat and impossibly perfect skin. James, the ever-poised heir, looking effortlessly regal beside her. Together, they looked like a Vogue cover.
Like they belonged together.
A sick weight settled in Bianca’s chest.
She scrolled through the comments.
> “Ugh, power couple energy.”
“Imagine being rich, smart, and hot?!”
“Wait, she’s from the Takahashi line?? Royalty.”
“This makes sense. He always gave elite vibes.”
“Bet his parents love her. She looks like money.”
Bianca set the phone down, face numb.
She wasn’t the jealous type. She really wasn’t. But she wasn’t blind either. There were layers to this that love alone couldn’t fix—familial expectations, societal bias, generational wealth.
She had her mind, her heart, her drive.
But sometimes… wealth just looked better with wealth.
And standing beside Naomi in that photo, James didn’t look out of place.
She did.
She breathed in, forcing herself upright, even as tears pricked the edges of her eyes.
Don’t fall apart, she told herself. Not over a picture. Not over someone else’s fantasy.
But deep down, a whisper broke through her resolve.
“Maybe this was never going to end with you.”
---
- Writer
