A Thought That Lingered
The morning sun had barely filtered in through the apartment windows, casting long golden slats across the hardwood floor, when Jay stirred from his sleep.
No alarm. No urgency.
Just the stillness of summer.
He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, arms resting on his knees, staring down at the floor as though the answers to everything might be hidden between the wood grain.
Clara's book still sat on his nightstand. Neatly placed. Untouched since last night.
But the words inside it — the underlined quote — stuck to his thoughts like ink refusing to dry.
"It's easy to wear a mask. The hard part is forgetting which face you had before."
Jay ran a hand through his hair and stood, wandering toward the small kitchen to make tea.
This wasn't the first time Clara had tried weaving herself into his world.
But this was different.
Subtler.
Messier.
She was testing the waters — inserting herself quietly into places she didn't belong. And yesterday… she'd slipped into a conversation with Emma, of all people.
Jay leaned back against the counter, sipping slowly, his phone unlocked in one hand.
No new messages.
He opened their rooftop group chat again and scrolled through random chatter. It had gone mostly quiet over the past few days, everyone slipping into their own vacation rhythms.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Then he tapped open a new message.
"Hey. You free to grab a drink or something? Afternoon works."
He didn't write who it was for.
But the contact name was:
Emma.
Calm Meeting, Quiet Probing
By the time Jay reached the café, the midday crowd had already started to thin. The place was tucked into a quieter street near the bookstore lane — modern, cozy, with soft jazz playing over hidden speakers.
Emma was already there, sipping from a tall iced latte, glasses perched low on her nose as she scrolled something on her phone. She glanced up as he approached, her mouth quirking into a lopsided smile.
"Wow. You're early. Is the world ending?"
Jay slipped into the seat opposite her. "I was bored. Figured I'd inflict that on someone else."
Emma mock-sighed. "Lucky me."
Their drinks arrived a moment later — Jay's usual iced black, no sugar. He took a long sip before speaking again.
"You seemed deep in thought yesterday. In the library, I mean."
Emma shrugged. "Was just chatting with that girl. Clara, I think?"
"Clara?" Jay echoed, tone carefully neutral. "Oh, the one with the braid?"
Emma nodded. "Yeah. I bumped into her. Literally. She asked about a few of our class events — like the cultural festival and stuff. Said she was curious how the clubs here work."
Jay leaned back in his chair, keeping his expression loose. "So she's new?"
"I think she said she's been around, but mostly homeschooled or something. She had this really formal way of speaking. Kinda elegant."
Homeschooled.
That was the excuse Clara often used when operating outside estate lines.
Jay nodded along. "She seemed nice?"
Emma tilted her head, thoughtful. "I don't know. Can't read her well. Pretty though. Kind of the noble-girl vibe." She gave Jay a pointed look. "Your type, maybe."
Jay grinned. "My type is coffee and silence."
"Lame," she said, but chuckled anyway.
They settled into quiet for a moment. The café's large front window let in the sunlight just enough to soften the world outside.
Jay tapped his glass once, gently.
"Did she ask about anyone else?" he asked lightly, watching the condensation trail down the cup. "Like… who's friends with who, that kind of thing?"
Emma blinked. "Not really. She asked about class culture. Who runs events. That kind of stuff. Not specific names. Though… she did ask if our school always had so many 'peculiar personalities.'" She smirked. "I think she was talking about Tyler."
Jay let out a quiet laugh. "That tracks."
Emma leaned forward on her elbows, curious now. "Why so curious about her? She your type after all?"
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You're really into the 'matchmaking' arc this summer, huh?"
"I have to get some entertainment now that exams are done."
He shrugged, voice casual. "Just figured anyone new trying to poke around might end up tangled in our group eventually. Thought I'd stay ahead of it."
Emma relaxed again, nodding slowly. "Makes sense. She didn't seem dangerous or anything. Just... I don't know. Controlled."
Jay filed the word away quietly.
III. An Invitation Not Sent
Later that afternoon, Jay stood in front of the bookstore café — the same one he'd visited before.
He didn't send Clara a message.
Didn't call. Didn't hint.
He simply walked in, knowing how she operated.
If Clara wanted him to notice her, she'd already arranged to be noticed.
Sure enough, tucked in a corner booth near the back — sat Clara.
Elegant as ever. One hand wrapped delicately around a porcelain cup. The other turning pages of a hardbound classic.
She didn't look up when the bell above the door rang.
She didn't have to.
Jay approached slowly, slid into the seat opposite her, and set his phone on the table between them.
"You're persistent," he said.
Clara looked up, her expression unreadable. "You're late."
"I didn't say I was coming."
"And yet here you are."
Jay exhaled, fingers drumming lightly against the table. "You're making moves again. Talking to people. Poking around."
Clara smiled faintly. "Observing. That's not a crime."
"You're not just observing," Jay said, voice low. "You're integrating."
"I've always liked libraries," she said airily. "Quiet places. A good way to meet interesting people… accidentally."
Jay's gaze didn't waver. "Why now?"
Clara set her cup down with a soft clink. "Because you're stalling."
There was silence for a beat.
The air between them felt like a chessboard mid-game — calm, but every breath could be a move.
"I left that world," Jay said finally. "I chose to walk away."
"You don't get to walk away from bloodlines, Jay," Clara replied softly. "You can hide. Play pretend. But when the crown is empty, everyone gets pulled back to the table."
He didn't respond right away. Just looked at her — really looked.
No mask. No teasing smile.
Just a girl born of power and politics, sipping tea while orchestrating futures.
"You're third in line," he said eventually. "Wouldn't it be better for you if I stayed out of it?"
Clara tilted her head, thoughtful.
"I've never been interested in better," she replied. "I'm interested in what's right. And whether you believe it or not… that seat was always meant for you."
Jay leaned forward, voice quiet but cutting. "You don't get to decide what I was meant for."
"No," Clara agreed. "But the family will."
He studied her face. No flicker of deceit. No tremble. Just serene conviction.
He stood up.
"I'm not interested in being your piece on the board."
Clara's smile returned, slow and knowing. "That's what makes you dangerous."
He turned to leave, pausing only when he reached the edge of the booth.
"Go home, Clara," he said without turning around. "This story doesn't end the way you want it to."
She didn't answer. But as he walked away, his phone buzzed.
Clara:
"So write your own ending. But remember… the Markovs don't like blank pages."
Nightfall
Jay tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and collapsed onto the couch.
The apartment was quiet again.
Too quiet.
His phone buzzed once more — this time from the rooftop group chat.
Tyler:
"Sooo… soccer tourney in 2 weeks. Jay, you better show up or I'll send Amaya to drag you."
Amaya:
"I charge a kidnapping fee."
Sofia:
"Only if you wear the apron again."
Jay chuckled softly. Despite everything, these messages grounded him.
He typed back:
"I'll be there. Just don't expect cheering. Maybe slow clapping."
He stared at the message for a second, then locked the phone.
One battle at a time.
Let Clara play her games.
Jay had a different kind of kingdom now.