Chapter 80 Chapter 80

Chapter 80 Chapter 80
Tito’s POV

“Are you seriously alive right now?”

That was the first thing Chloe said the moment I stepped out of the lecture hall, and honestly, it was so on-brand for her that I had to bite back a tired laugh.

She appeared out of nowhere like she always did, her braids swinging, her backpack half-open as if she’d sprinted straight from the cafeteria.

“I mean it,” she continued, matching her pace with mine as I walked toward the courtyard. “You disappear for three days, come back out of the blue, act like everything is normal, and now you’re walking around campus looking like someone who knows too much. Spill. Immediately. It's not still the kidnapping thing is it?.”

I kept my gaze steady ahead, forcing my breathing into something that resembled normalcy because the truth was simple: I wasn’t normal anymore. The whole entire message thing had kept me on edge, and I may or may not have taken three days off of school because I was paranoid.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Just… stuff.”

Chloe stopped walking. Literally stopped. I took two more steps before realizing she wasn’t beside me anymore. When I turned around, she was staring at me with her arms crossed.

“Tito. You hate vague statements. Don’t use them on me.”

I sighed and walked back toward her. The sun was annoyingly bright, the kind that made everything feel heavier. I could feel the weight of eyes too — classmates drifting past us, murmuring greetings, glancing twice, their curiosity simmering underneath polite smiles.

Three unexplained days of absence in college was equivalent to announcing you were pregnant or kidnapped; everyone assumed the worst or the funniest.

“I had a lot going on,” I finally said, softer now. “Family stuff, school stress. I just needed a break.”

Chloe stared at me for a second longer before nodding slowly, as if she didn’t buy a word but also wasn’t going to push yet. That was one of the reasons she was my only real friend here, she always knew when to pause.

“Okay,” she murmured. “If you say so.”

We started walking again, and I tried to let the normal flow of campus life soothe me. Students were scattered across the courtyard in little clusters: some laughing, some scrolling through their phones, others rushing toward their next class. It was the same scene every day, but today it felt… sharp, like the edges were clearer, the colors brighter. Danger did that to you; it made everything vivid.

Chloe nudged me suddenly. “So, Professor Kendrick’s class was weird today.”

A jolt shot through my stomach. “Weird how?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t notice? He kept watching you. Like, every ten minutes. And he didn’t even call you out when you weren’t writing anything down. That man calls everyone out. You could have sneezed wrong and he’d ask you to explain the theoretical framework behind it. Did something happen at home?.”

My chest tightened. I hadn’t realized the glances were that obvious. Kendrick had been trying to keep a professional distance — especially now that danger seemed to be creeping closer again — but even that distance carried a certain weight.

“I didn’t notice,” I lied, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

Chloe shot me a look but let it go, her attention drifting as we approached the cafeteria. The smell of jollof and fried chicken drifted out the open doors, sending a pang of hunger straight through me.

Training had wrecked my appetite a bit, leaving me hungry at strange hours and nauseous at others. But food was still food.

We settled into a corner table, and I tried to relax into the hum of the room, but I couldn’t shake the tension in my shoulders. Every voice felt too loud. Every laugh seemed too sharp. Every footstep sounded like it was getting closer even when no one was moving.

I pushed the memory away and focused on Chloe’s ongoing monologue about a girl in her literature group who insisted on treating group assignments like personal diaries.

“…and I swear, Tito, she said ‘the emotional weight of colonial shadows’ like she was auditioning for some spoken-word poetry festival. I almost walked out.”

I laughed — genuinely — and Chloe grinned as if she’d been waiting all morning to hear that sound.

But before I could sink into the moment entirely, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Once.
Then again.
A rhythm only one person used.

I glanced down discreetly.
Kendrick:
Breathe. Shoulders down. You’re tense.
Keep your eyes forward. Not your phone.
There’s nothing to worry about yet.

The directions were so precise I almost forgot to inhale.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmured to Chloe, standing before she could protest.

I stepped outside, into the shade of the building, and only then did I exhale fully.

I texted back.

Me:
You saw me from where?

There was a pause, then:

Kendrick:
Second-floor window. West side. The cafeteria courtyard is in my line of sight.
You looked like you were listening to every footstep in the entire room.

I swallowed hard.
He wasn’t wrong.

Me:
I’m trying, okay? But everything’s just…

Kendrick:
I know. And you’re handling it better than you think.

Another pause.

Kendrick:
Go back inside. Enjoy your lunch. You don’t have to be on guard every second. Not here.
I’m watching.

A wave of warmth rolled through me at the same time a strange sadness coiled quietly underneath. I was grateful — deeply — but a part of me hated that I still needed reassurance just to eat lunch on campus.

Still, I went back inside.

Chloe looked up immediately.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Sorry. My mom,” I lied easily now. “She needed something.”

“Ah.” She didn’t look convinced but she pushed my plate toward me anyway. “Eat. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

We ate while she kept talking, and I let her words fill the space until the tension inside me loosened. I wasn’t completely relaxed — probably never would be again — but I could breathe without my chest trembling.

Halfway through lunch, she leaned closer and whispered, “By the way, what did you do to Sarah?”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Sarah. The girl who always wears those huge lashes that look like she borrowed them from an eagle.”

“Oh. Her.”

“She looked at you today like she was calculating your market value and plotting your downfall at the same time.”

I groaned. “I literally haven’t spoken to her once this semester.”

“Well, maybe that’s the problem,” Chloe said. “Your mysterious disappearing act probably gave people new material. There were rumors.”

My stomach dipped. “What kind of rumors?”

Chloe hesitated — which was rare, meaning it was bad.
“Tito… people said you left campus because of a guy.”

“A guy?” I echoed, trying to keep my voice level. “What guy?”

“No one knows. That’s the point. That’s why they’re so obsessed. And Sarah—well—she thinks the guy might be someone on campus.”

Blood drained from my face for a second. Chloe noticed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly now, all the teasing gone.

“I’m fine,” I said again, softer. “It’s just… none of that is true.”

“Obviously,” she said with a scoff. “If you were seeing someone, I would know. Your face can barely hide it when you buy plantains, imagine hiding a whole man.”

I snorted, and it felt good.

After lunch, we split ways, she had a lab and I had Kendrick’s next class. The moment I walked into the room, he didn’t look at me, not directly, but something in the air shifted slightly, like a silent acknowledgment.

“Take your seats,” he said to the class, voice smooth and steady. “Let’s begin.”

The lecture flowed, precise and sharp, his tone strict enough to keep everyone alert but calm enough to keep me from unraveling. Every now and then his eyes flicked across the room and landed on me for a split second — enough to anchor me without drawing any attention.

When class ended, I waited until the room emptied. Kendrick stayed at his desk, sorting papers, pretending I wasn’t walking toward him.

“You handled today well,” he said finally, still not looking up.

“I almost didn’t,” I admitted.

“That’s part of growth,” he murmured. “Not the ease. The effort.”

I exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the day settle. Campus life, danger, secrets, training, all of it felt like two worlds crashing into each other, and I was somewhere in the middle trying not to get crushed.

“I’m trying,” I said.