Chapter 108 One Honest Night

Chapter 108 One Honest Night
Kristoff’s POV

THE LAST bell echoed across the campus, and students began pouring into the hallways with the restless energy that always came at the end of a school day.
I waited outside Aleli's classroom as I always did. When she finally stepped into the corridor, she looked exhausted.
She smiled the moment she saw me, but I had learned to recognize the difference between her genuine smile and the one she wore to reassure everyone else.
“Ready?” I asked, taking her backpack before she could protest.
She nodded. “Let's go.”
We walked side by side toward the parking lot without saying much. Around us, students laughed, argued about assignments, and made plans for the weekend. It sounded so ordinary that it almost made me forget how much had changed over the past few weeks.
As I unlocked the car, I glanced at Aleli. “Can we not go home yet?”
She paused before getting inside. “What do you mean?”
“I just…” I looked away for a moment, searching for the right words. “I don't want today to end yet.”
A small crease formed between her brows. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
That wasn't entirely true.
The feeling that every day brought us closer to something neither of us was ready to face. But I didn't want any of that tonight.
I looked back at her and managed a faint smile. “Can we pretend we're normal for a few hours?”
She studied my face carefully.
Then she smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. “I'd like that.”
Instead of taking the road toward Bea's apartment, I drove into the city.
We stopped at a small family restaurant tucked between two older buildings. It wasn't the kind of place my family usually visited, but that was exactly why I chose it.
Nobody recognized us. Nobody stared. Nobody whispered.
We ordered far too much food for two people.
Aleli laughed when the waiter placed the last dish on the table. “There's no way we can finish all of this.”
“I underestimated how hungry we were.”
“You always overestimate.”
“I do not.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You ordered enough fried rice for four people.”
“I panicked.”
She laughed again, covering her mouth. “You panic by feeding people?”
“It seems so.”
For the first time in days, I heard her laugh without restraint. It was worth every extra plate. Dinner drifted into conversations that had nothing to do with investigations or hidden files.
She told me about the paintings she wanted to create once finals were over. I admitted that I still hated chemistry no matter how many tutors my parents hired.
She teased me for pretending to be good at everything. “You're terrible at cooking,” she said.
I couldn't help laughing. “You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
When we finally left the restaurant, the sun had already disappeared behind the skyline.
Instead of going back to the car, we wandered through the quieter streets. We browsed a bookstore without buying anything. We shared a cup of hot chocolate from a street vendor.
We sat for nearly an hour on a bench overlooking the river, watching the lights ripple across the water.
Neither of us mentioned Uncle Jerry.
For one evening, we allowed ourselves to exist outside the weight of everything waiting for us.
By the time we returned to the parking lot, the first drops of rain began to fall. Within minutes, the drizzle turned into a downpour.
Traffic slowed almost immediately. News alerts flashed across my phone warning of flooded streets and heavy congestion throughout the city.
Aleli looked out the windshield. “We should still take me back.”
“Not tonight.”
She turned toward me. “Kristoff—”
“It's already past nine.”
“I'll be fine.”
I shook my head. “You won't.”
She sighed softly. “I don't want Bea to worry.”
“I'll call her.”
I picked up my phone before she could argue. Bea answered on the second ring.
“You're late,” she said flatly.
“The roads are flooding.”
“I know.”
“I don't want Aleli commuting across the city this late.”
A short silence followed.
Then Bea asked, “What's your plan?”
“There's a hotel two blocks from here.” 
“Separate beds?” she asked. “You'll leave first thing tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” That single word carried more trust than I expected. “Text me the hotel name.”
“I will.”
She hung up. 
Aleli looked at me. “She agreed?”
“She told me to send the address.”
A few minutes later, we checked into a modest business hotel. The receptionist barely looked up as she handed me the keycard. When we entered the room, Aleli stopped near the doorway. Two neatly made single beds stood on opposite sides of the room.
A small table separated them. It wasn't luxurious, but just quiet.
She slowly set her bag down. “This feels strange. But... not uncomfortable.”
I nodded. “I know.”
She sat on the edge of one bed while I took the chair beside the window. For a while, neither of us spoke. Rain tapped steadily against the glass.
Finally, Aleli broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She looked down at her hands. “Are you scared?”
The question lingered between us. I could have lied.
Instead, I answered honestly. “Every day.”
She lifted her eyes to mine. “Then why are you still here?”
I smiled faintly. “Because leaving would scare me more.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. After several seconds, she whispered, “I think I'm changing, before all of this, I believed that if I stayed quiet and worked hard enough, life would eventually become peaceful.”
“And now?”
“Now I think peace doesn't come looking for people.” Her voice trembled. “I think you have to fight for it.”
I stood and crossed the room until I was sitting beside her. Not too close.
She stared at the floor.
“I'm not afraid of learning the truth anymore,” she admitted quietly. “I'm afraid of what the truth will do to everyone standing beside me.”
Without saying anything, I reached for her hand.
She looked down as our fingers intertwined. “I never asked you to carry this alone,” I said gently.
“You didn't.”
“Then let me decide whether it's worth staying.” A tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away. “You always make impossible decisions sound simple.”
“They're never simple.”
“Then why do you keep choosing me?”
I held her gaze. “Because I never had to think about it.”
She leaned her head lightly against my shoulder.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.