THE LAST TO FALL

CHAPTER 5

EROS' POV

I just let Skye leave. Maybe she had something important to talk about with her dad. I turned my gaze back to my laptop screen, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t continue writing. Something was missing. Something was bothering me.

I was still in the library, but it felt like I wasn’t really there. The air around me felt heavy. A part of my brain kept whispering, just go to your dorm for now.

Not to run away or rest

But to drop off my stuff, like I’d been planning. The project involved some props and a camera that needed fixing.

So I grabbed my backpack, shut my laptop, and stood up. I didn’t even say goodbye to the librarian. I just left quietly, walking under the setting sun. The shadows of trees lining the campus felt like they shared the weight in my chest.

I had no idea that in the next few steps, everything was about to change.

---

When I arrived at the dorm building, I entered quietly. A few students passed by on their way out, others were busy on their phones. My skin was still warm from the walk, but the chill in my chest was sharper.

I peeked down the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Skye. But before I could step closer to my room which happened to be right beside hers a familiar voice echoed from the far end of the hall.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk. Right now.”

I froze.

My fists clenched the moment I heard that voice. It wasn’t just familiar. It was the same voice I’d heard on the recordings my father used to listen to every night. The man he talked about during his last days. The reason why he finally gave up.

I slowly stepped forward. And at the end of the hallway, I saw him.

Well-dressed. Button-down shirt. Looked like he’d just come from the office. Upright posture. Calmly waiting with his phone in hand. But in his eyes cold. Distant.

There was no mistake.

It was him.

The man who destroyed my family.

The man who caused my father's downfall.

Who pushed him to the edge.

Who made him stop breathing.

And now, he stood right here.

Outside the door of his daughter’s dorm.

Skye’s dorm.

Shit.

He was Skye’s father.

I nearly stumbled back.

It felt like I’d been doused with ice water.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might throw up. It was like a scream building inside me. I wanted to charge at him. Scream at him. I wanted to relive every night my mom cried. Every moment I blamed myself for not being able to save Dad.

But I didn’t move.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t show that I knew him.

I turned around.

Slowly.

Walked to the opposite hallway. I leaned against the wall, breathed deeply, holding on for balance. I needed a plan. I needed a strategy.

And in those few seconds, my rage sharpened into something clearer: resolve.

This was the moment.

This was the chance to take everything back.

I would use this project.

And Skye… she was the key.

---

I stayed outside the dorm for a few more minutes. When Skye finally came out clearly having gone through something heavy I didn’t approach her. I watched her from afar as she walked down the path toward the main road. Slow steps, head bowed, sadness in her eyes.

She had no idea.

She didn’t know that her father was the reason my life turned out this way.

And I didn’t want her to know.

Not yet.

---

The next day, we were back as project partners in the library. Just like before quiet, focused on work. No more personal conversations. Just script revisions, literary analysis, plotlines.

But behind my eyes, I was already building my plan.

---

“Eros, why are you suddenly taking this project so seriously?” Camille asked when we ran into each other at the cafeteria that afternoon.

“Nothing,” I replied. “It just feels good to finally have a groupmate who actually does the work.”

“Or maybe... you're starting to like Skye?”

I smiled but it wasn’t real.

“She’s not who I want,” I said in my head. “She’s who I need.”

As I sat in front of my laptop, I opened our draft again.

I added just one line:

> “Sometimes, you don’t need to scream to get revenge. Sometimes, silence is enough.”

At the bottom of the page, I wrote a private note to myself:

> “Project Objective: To expose the man who destroyed my father.

Phase 1: Win his daughter’s trust.”

This isn’t the end of the story.

This is just the beginning.

---

SKYE'S POV

The campus felt quiet as I walked back to the dorm. But inside me it wasn’t.

I couldn’t understand why Dad suddenly showed up. And why his eyes looked so heavy when we talked earlier. As if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. As if he was carrying something he couldn’t share.

But I felt it.

He didn’t come just as a father. He came as a man running from something. And I was the daughter left unaware of the kind of person he really was.

I didn’t know if I was just overthinking. But every time I looked at Dad, I felt like there was something he was hiding. Especially earlier, when I asked if he was okay. His answer? “Just tired from work.”

But there was something painful in his voice. It wasn’t just exhaustion.

I leaned back against our room door once I got inside. Camille wasn’t there probably off at an org meeting or with her boyfriend. Thank God. I didn’t want company tonight.

I fell onto my bed, closed my eyes, and replayed the moment with Dad in my head. That strange feeling that someone else was in the hallway. That brief second where I felt someone watching me from the shadows.

I thought of Eros.

He hadn’t replied to my messages. He didn’t say goodbye at the library. Did he go to his dorm? Was he annoyed because I left so suddenly?

I couldn’t blame him if he was a bit upset. But it’s finals week there’s no room for personal stuff.

I opened my laptop to revisit our draft. I started reading Ibarra’s section.

That’s when I saw he’d added a new line.

> “Sometimes, you don’t need to scream to get revenge. Sometimes, silence is enough.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

There was something deep about it.

And it didn’t sound like Eros.

It was like his silence was trying to say something. Like there was something heavier behind those words.

I wasn’t sure if it was meant for Ibarra...

Or for himself.

---

The next day, we were back in the library. Just like before barely speaking. But I noticed something different about him.

He arrived earlier than me. He looked put together. No haggard look. Focused on his screen. Locked in.

This wasn’t the Eros I knew. Or maybe I don't know him enough.

“Good morning,” I greeted, sitting down.

“Hey,” he said, with a simple smile.

I opened our file. He had already merged the latest drafts. I started formatting it for submission.

“Hey,” he called out.

“Hm?”

“Remember when you suggested making

Ibarra more flawed?”

I nodded.

“I tried writing his POV while drunk. That moment where he’s not a writer. Not a hero. Just a drunk son, mad at the world.”

I looked at him. “Let me read it.”

He handed me the laptop. I read the new segment.

It was raw. Messy. Unfiltered.

And real.

It was painful to read.

“This is intense, Eros,” I said. “So different.”

“Is that okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s not perfect. But I felt every word. Not just as a character, but as a person.”

We stared at each other for a second. Then I quickly looked away.

Why did that feel… different?

I wasn’t blushing.

Was I?

I turned my attention back to the screen.

“Can you add more? Drunk Ibarra. I want to know what he regrets when no one’s watching.”

“Sure,” he said. “Later.”

We kept working.

But as he typed, I noticed he kept glancing at me.

I didn’t know if I was just being paranoid.

Or if he knew something I didn’t.

---

At the cafeteria, I ran into Camille. I was about to head home when she called me from another table.

“Skye! Hold up.”

I sat beside her. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been really quiet lately.”

I smiled. “It’s finals week, right? Who isn’t quiet right now?”

But she didn’t seem convinced.

“Eros,” she added. “He’s gotten really serious.”

My eyebrows rose. “You noticed too?”

“Yeah. So quiet. So focused. Like he’s planning something.”

I frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking,” she said, biting the straw of her milk tea. “But be careful. You don’t really know him, do you?”

I nodded. But I couldn’t blame her.

Even I didn’t know who Eros really was.

---

When I got home at my dorm that night, I opened our draft again. I saw he saved a new file. It was in our shared folder, but the subtitle stood out:

> “Final Draft Shadow Rewrite”

I opened it.

The first line?

> “The cruelest truth is the one left unsaid by the person closest to you.”

I didn’t know what it was for.

But I felt like… it wasn’t for Ibarra.

It was for me.

---

Back in my room, I thought about Dad’s eyes yesterday. And Eros’ eyes today.

Both full of weight.

But coming from very different places.

Dad looked like he was hiding something.

Eros looked like he was searching for something.

And me?

I was stuck in the middle.