It had been four days.
Four long, heavy, wordless days.

The dorm room they shared had turned into a battlefield of silence - two beds, two worlds, divided by something invisible but unbearable.

Anko’s perfume still lingered in the air, sweet and citrusy, but Ani had trained herself not to breathe too deeply. Not to remember.

They trained in the same hall, danced across the same polished floor, shared the same mirror, but never shared a look.

Ani’s movements were perfect. Too perfect. Every spin, every line of her arms was sharp, controlled, emotionless. Her heart, once too loud when Anko was near, was now locked behind glass.

And yet, every time she turned, she could feel it - Anko’s gaze. Watching. Wanting to say something. But never brave enough to break the silence.

At night, Ani lay awake, listening to the faint sound of Anko’s breathing from the other side of the room. Sometimes she could hear her shift restlessly, or quietly sniffle into her pillow, thinking Ani was asleep.

She never was.

The tension hadn’t gone unnoticed. Rumours spread like wildfire through the trainee floor - and where there were cracks, snakes always slithered in. That’s when Lina and Ailie made their move.

They were the kind of girls who smiled only when it benefited them. Beautiful, disciplined, and venomous - the kind that made you question whether they were complimenting you or cutting you.

“Anko, you’re late again,” Lina said one morning, tapping her watch. Her ginger hair shimmered under the rehearsal lights. “I guess when you’re Ani’s pet, time doesn’t matter.”

Ailie giggled, pretending to stretch beside her. “Yeah, the teachers love a drama. Maybe they’ll debut you two as the ‘silent couple’.”

The room chuckled. Just a few laughs, but that was all it took. Shame burned on Anko’s cheeks, and she turned away without replying.

Lina and Ailie exchanged smirks. They’d found blood.

By the second day, the taunts grew sharper.

During lunch:
“Oh, Anko, is Ani not sitting with you anymore? That’s sad… Did she finally get tired of carrying you?”

During vocal practice:
“Careful not to go off-key again, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your ex-partner, right?”

Anko ignored them. Always. But Ani saw the toll. She noticed how Anko stopped laughing during breaks, how she avoided eye contact even with the kind trainees, how her once-bright blue eyes now looked a little dimmer every day.

And still, she said nothing.

Because if she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure whether she’d apologize or scream.

But It all exploded one Friday evening.

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