Chapter 59

Yoko

The Edinburgh trip is over.

I'm back home, curled up on my bed with Ham resting his head on my stomach, his soft snores filling the quiet of my room. 

My suitcase is still half-packed in the corner, untouched since I got back, because honestly, unpacking feels like admitting that everything is really over—that I'm back to the same routine, the same school corridors, the same days without Faye's presence lingering around me every second.

And yet, I can't shake the feeling that something has changed.

The Edinburgh trip, as much as it was exhausting and filled with moments I wasn't sure how to process, was one of the best experiences of my life. And I don't say that lightly. 

Walking the same streets Faye did when she was a student, standing in the halls of her alma mater, seeing the place that shaped her—it all felt surreal.

Like I was stepping into a part of her past, a piece of her that existed before me, before us. 

It made me realise just how much of a world there was to her, one I was only beginning to understand, one I wanted to keep exploring with her.

And of course, there was meeting Professor Vanessa Evans.

The woman, the legend.

Honestly, I still can't believe it. That moment will forever be burned into my memory—the way I, Yoko, the girl who never falters, actually fumbled. It was humiliating, but in the best way possible. 

I was completely in awe of her, and she was exactly as Faye had described—sharp, intimidating, and sassy as hell. 

The way she talked, the way she carried herself, the way she effortlessly made me feel like a mere mortal in the presence of an all-powerful being... yeah, I get it now. 

I get why Faye looked up to her so much, why she was such a force in Faye's life.

And yet, it's a shame. A shame that she's leaving, that she won't be teaching at the University of Edinburgh anymore. 

Even though I haven't made my final decision yet, I still think about it—about studying English Literature, about following a path similar to Faye's. Maybe, in another life, I could have been her student too. Maybe I still can.

But the thing that's been sitting on my chest the most since coming home isn't just my thoughts about university. It's Faye.

Something is different.

She's still Faye. She still teases me, still calls me darling, still kisses me like I'm the air she breathes. But there's something else, something lingering behind her gaze whenever she looks at me. Something weightier, deeper.

I know Faye already loves me—I've known that for a long time. But now, I feel it even more. Like there's something unspoken resting on the tip of her tongue, something she's carrying inside her that she hasn't said yet.

And I don't know what it is, but I want to.

Because whatever it is, I can feel it changing her. And if it's changing her, then maybe—just maybe—it's going to change us too.

And I don't know if I should be excited or terrified.

Or both.

Ham lets out a deep, dramatic sigh as I poke his fluffy belly for the fifth time in a row. He cracks one sleepy eye open, gives me the most exasperated dog look I've ever seen, then promptly buries his face deeper into my stomach with a defeated huff.

I grin. "Come on, buddy. You've been sleeping all day. Don't you want to play?"

Ham does not, in fact, want to play. He lazily swats at me with his paw, like he's telling me to go bother someone else, and I laugh, rubbing his ears just to further annoy him.

"Yoko!"

I hear my dad call from downstairs, and immediately, I remember—oh, right. Souvenirs.

"Coming!" I shout back, then quickly roll off my bed, much to Ham's relief.

Grabbing the paper bag filled with the things I bought for him, I rush downstairs, almost tripping over my own feet in my excitement. 

My dad's already sitting at the dining table, sipping on his tea, looking so relaxed that I almost feel bad about barging in with my usual energy.

Almost.

"Here!" I announce, dumping the bag onto the table in front of him. "For you, from Edinburgh. Your daughter was very thoughtful and totally didn't just buy these last minute."

Dad raises an eyebrow but takes the bag, peering inside with a soft chuckle. "Oh? And what did my thoughtful daughter bring me?"

I plop down in the seat beside him, propping my chin up on my hands as I watch him pull each item out.

"A whisky tumbler," he reads aloud, inspecting the intricate Scottish design on the glass. "Fancy."

"Thought you'd like it," I say proudly. "You always complain about not having a proper glass when you drink."

He hums, setting it down before reaching into the bag again. "What else... a fridge magnet of Edinburgh Castle. Ah, and this—" 

He pulls out a beautifully crafted leather bookmark embossed with gold lettering.

"For your books," I explain. "Because you dog-ear your pages, and that's an unforgivable crime."

Dad bursts out laughing. "Oh, so now I'm the criminal?"

"Yes," I deadpan. "But now you can redeem yourself."

He shakes his head, clearly amused, but I catch the way his smile softens, the way he looks at the gifts a little longer than necessary. Then, before I can prepare myself, he reaches over and ruffles my hair.

"Thank you, kid," he says, his voice warm, affectionate.

I wrinkle my nose. "Dad, come on, I just fixed my hair."

He chuckles. "What, I can't mess up my daughter's hair a little?"

"You do it every time," I grumble, smoothing it down. But really, I don't mind. Not at all.

For a few moments, we just sit there in comfortable silence, my dad admiring his gifts while I watch, a quiet sort of happiness filling my chest.

It's moments like these that I don't take for granted. Just me and my dad, sharing laughter over something small, something simple.

Because no matter what happens—no matter what changes in my life—I know this will always stay the same.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Dad takes another sip of his tea, still glancing at the whiskey tumbler like he's already picturing himself using it for his next drink. Then, setting it down, he looks at me with an expectant smile.

"So," he starts, leaning back comfortably, "how was the trip?"

I exhale dramatically, stretching my arms. "Tiring, but amazing. Edinburgh is... honestly, so beautiful. The architecture, the bookstores, the galleries—everything felt like stepping into a different world. And seeing where Faye studied was just... surreal."

Dad doesn't miss my slip-up, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he gives me a knowing look, resting his chin on his hand.

"I could tell you had fun just by the way you're talking about it," he says. "And you even got to meet your role model."

I blink. "My role model?"

"Your Professor Evans," he smirks.

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "Dad."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Hey, I think it's cool. You talked about her like she was some legendary figure, so I assume meeting her must've been a highlight."

"It was," I admit, still covering my face. "She's just as terrifyingly cool in person. And she signed my book."

"Oh? And what did she write?"

I peek through my fingers, then sit up properly. "Just something... very Vanessa Evans," I say vaguely, but my dad chuckles, as if he already understands the essence of what that means.

"Sounds like you really admired her."

I nod. "Yeah. She's someone I look up to a lot. Her presence, her intellect, the way she carries herself—everything about her is just..." I trail off, shaking my head with a small laugh. "Unbelievable."

Dad watches me for a moment, then his expression shifts into something more thoughtful. "So," he says, tilting his head slightly, "what about you?"

I blink at him. "What about me?"

"You've been talking about all these amazing things you saw in Edinburgh—meeting your professor idol, visiting your teacher's university, seeing all these literary places—but what about you?" He gestures toward me. "What do you want to do after high school, kid?"

I stare at him for a second, caught slightly off guard.

What do I want to do?

It's something I've thought about before, of course. But this trip... it's made me think about it even more.

I glance at my dad, at the easy patience in his gaze, at the way he's waiting, not pressuring—just giving me space to answer.

I take a deep breath.

"I think... I want to study English Literature," I say finally. "I love words, I love poetry, and I think I really want to dive into it more. Maybe even write something of my own one day."

Dad raises an eyebrow. "So, you want to follow in Faye's footsteps?"

I hesitate. Then, quietly, I nod. "Yeah. I think I do."

There's a brief silence. Then, to my relief, he smiles.

"You know, I'm not surprised," he muses. "You've always loved literature, even when you were younger. You used to scribble little poems in your notebooks when you thought no one was looking."

I groan immediately. "Dad, we've been over this."

He grins, all too pleased with himself. "How could I forget? I still remember a few of them, you know."

"Dad—no."

He clears his throat dramatically, then recites in an exaggeratedly poetic tone:

"Roses are red, violets are blue,I hate math, and it hates me too."

I drop my face into my hands. "Oh my god, stop."

He laughs. "Or what about this classic?" He clasps his hands together, as if he's about to deliver the performance of a lifetime.

"I love my dog, he is so round,When he runs, he shakes the ground."

"DAD."

He's laughing now, clearly enjoying this way too much. "You were a poetic genius even back then, kiddo."

I groan, reaching for the nearest object—which, unfortunately, happens to be a cushion—and halfheartedly throwing it at him. He catches it easily, grinning.

"You're never letting this go, are you?" I grumble.

"Never," he confirms, smug.

I sigh, shaking my head, but a small smile tugs at my lips.

Despite the mild–okay, intense–embarrassment, there's something warm about this—about the way he remembers, about the way he's always supported me, even when I was just a kid scribbling nonsense in my notebooks.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of me is glad he still does.

Dad leans back in his seat, eyeing me with amusement. "So, are you meeting Faye today?"

I shake my head, reaching for a piece of fruit from the table. "Nope. Just resting at home today."

His brows lift slightly. "Really? I thought you two would be attached at the hip after spending a whole week together."

I roll my eyes but smile. 

"We literally just spent every waking moment together in Edinburgh. Figured it'd be good to, you know, do our own things for a bit." I pop the fruit into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"Besides, she has her own stuff to catch up on—grading, lesson planning, all the exciting things that come with being a teacher."

Dad hums, nodding. "That's fair. So, what about you? Got any plans for the next few weeks before school starts again?"

I pause, considering. "Honestly? I haven't really thought about it. Maybe just relax, catch up on some reading, hang out with Ink and the rest—oh, and maybe start looking more seriously into university applications."

"English literature?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He nods approvingly. "Good. And apart from your academic pursuits?" He smirks. "Surely you're not planning to sit at home the entire break?"

I shrug. "I mean, it's tempting."

He scoffs. "You? Stay still for more than a day? Please. I give it two days before you start complaining about being bored."

I snort. "Okay, maybe."

Dad chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. "Well, whatever you do, make sure you enjoy yourself. This is your last proper break before the final stretch of high school."

I exhale, nodding. "Yeah, I know."

It's weird to think about—how close I am to the end of this chapter of my life. The final stretch of high school. The last exams. The decisions that will shape what comes next.

It's exciting yet terrifying. But somewhere in between, I know one thing for sure.

Faye will be there.

And that thought alone makes it all feel a little less daunting.

After finishing up breakfast and chatting with Dad, I stretch my arms above my head, letting out a soft sigh before heading back upstairs. 

The moment I step into my room, I find Ham sprawled out on my bed, no longer in his half-asleep, sluggish state from earlier. 

His ears perk up when he sees me, tail thumping lightly against my pillows.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up," I tease, walking over and ruffling his fur.

Ham huffs dramatically, stretching his legs out before rolling onto his back, clearly inviting belly rubs. I chuckle, indulging him for a few moments before an idea sparks in my mind.

"You know what, buddy?" I murmur, scratching behind his ear. "Let's go for a walk."

At the word "walk," Ham bolts upright, eyes bright with excitement. 

He lets out an eager bark, hopping off the bed and practically bouncing around my room like I just told him he won the lottery.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I laugh, shaking my head. "Let me just grab your leash."

I slip into a comfy hoodie–one that may or may not belong to Faye–throwing my hair up into a lazy ponytail before grabbing Ham's leash from where it hangs near the door.

The moment I hold it up, Ham is practically vibrating with excitement, circling around my legs as if that will make me move faster.

"Alright, alright, calm down," I say, kneeling to hook the leash onto his collar. "I swear, you act like I never take you out."

Ham doesn't care. He's already tugging toward the door before I even stand up fully.

I chuckle, following his lead as we head downstairs and step outside into the fresh morning air.

The sky is a clear, cloudless blue, and there's a slight breeze that makes the temperature perfect—not too hot, not too cold. 

Ham immediately starts sniffing everything in sight, tail wagging at full speed, and I smile, letting him lead the way as we begin our walk.

It's nice. Peaceful. A simple little moment of calm.

And as we stroll down the familiar streets, I find myself thinking... maybe this break won't be so bad after all.

The park is quiet this morning, the air crisp, the scent of fresh grass and damp earth lingering from the early morning dew. Ham tugs at his leash impatiently, his tail wagging like an overenthusiastic metronome. 

The second I unclip his leash, he bolts across the open field, kicking up bits of dirt as he gallops like he's the fastest creature alive.

I shake my head, smiling.

It doesn't take long before he finds his first treasure of the day—a random, decently sized branch lying near a tree. 

He picks it up with a flourish, his tail wagging proudly as he trots back to me, stick clamped firmly between his teeth.

"You seriously have a type," I tell him, taking the branch from his mouth and tossing it across the field.

Ham darts after it, his paws pounding against the ground with relentless enthusiasm. He lives for this—finding the perfect stick, retrieving it like it's his life's greatest mission.

I continue throwing, he continues fetching, and in between the motions, my thoughts begin to wander.

The trip to Edinburgh felt like a glimpse into something bigger—something beyond just a school trip. 

I saw where Faye lived, where she studied, where she spent years shaping herself into the person she is today. 

And now, after being there, I can't stop thinking about whether that's the path I want to take too.

English Literature.

Maybe at the University of Edinburgh, maybe somewhere else. Maybe...

Would Faye be okay with it?

The thought sticks to my ribs, a quiet weight pressing down. I know she wouldn't hold me back—she's never been the type to cage someone in, never the type to tell me what I can or can't do. But still...

Long-distance.

Would we be okay? Would she want me to stay closer? Would she—

A sudden thud against my shin snaps me out of my thoughts. 

I look down to find Ham proudly dropping another stick at my feet, his tongue hanging out in a happy pant, eyes bright with expectation.

I exhale a soft laugh, bending down to ruffle his fur.

"You're relentless, you know that?" I murmur, picking up the stick and tossing it again.

Ham bolts, happy as ever, and I shake my head.

Maybe I'm overthinking things. Maybe I should just talk to her about it. After all, Faye's the one who taught me the power of words.

And if there's one person I never want to leave unspoken thoughts between... it's her.

Ham, ever the determined little retriever, returns with another stick—this time even bigger, almost the length of his own body. 

He drops it at my feet with a huff, looking up at me expectantly as if saying, This one. This is the one.

I laugh, shaking my head. "That's not a stick, Ham. That's practically a tree branch."

He barks once, tail wagging wildly, waiting. I roll my eyes but humor him, gripping the oversized stick and giving it a throw. 

It doesn't go far—partly because it's ridiculous and partly because I'm too lost in my thoughts to put much effort into it.

As Ham races after his prize, my mind circles back to the future.

To university. To what's going to happen after high school ends. To what's going to happen with us—me and Faye.

The thing is, we haven't really talked about it. Not properly. Not beyond casual remarks and teasing quips. But I know it's something we'll have to address soon.

Because I want to go overseas. I want to study literature. I want to carve out a future for myself that I'll be proud of.

But more than anything, I want to be with Faye.

Can I have both? Would she wait for me? Would I ask her to?

The thought makes my stomach twist, my fingers clenching slightly at the hem of her hoodie—the one I stole this morning, the one that still smells faintly like her perfume.

I sigh, exhaling slowly, watching as Ham struggles to carry his prize back toward me, his tiny body practically disappearing behind the weight of the branch.

"Maybe you should pick something a little lighter, bud," I call out, but he's determined, refusing to let go, dragging it through the grass with all his might.

I smile despite myself.

Maybe I should take a page out of his book.

Maybe instead of getting weighed down by the enormity of the future, I should just take things one step at a time.

Maybe instead of assuming the worst, I should just talk to her.

I chuckle, shaking my head at Ham's ridiculous struggle before walking over and helping him lift the stick, giving him a few affectionate pats in the process.

"Come on, let's head home," I murmur, more to myself than him. "I think I need to talk to someone."

Because no matter what happens—whether I stay, whether I go—there's only one person whose answer I care about.

And I think it's about time I ask.

By the time Ham and I get back home, he's panting happily, his tail wagging with satisfaction after a good run. 

I crouch down near the doorway, wiping his paws and fur with a damp towel before he even thinks about bolting onto my bed.

"You're lucky you're cute," I mutter as he licks my wrist, completely unbothered by the clean-up process.

Once I'm done, he trots off to his water bowl, lapping up the cool water like he just ran a marathon. 

Meanwhile, I head upstairs, peeling off my favourite comfy hoodie before plopping onto my chair. My laptop sits on my desk, waiting.

Right. University research.

I open the browser and pull up a list of universities, typing in searches for English Literature programs, flipping between tabs as I scan through faculty pages, curriculum details, and admission requirements.

Some universities are in the U.S. Some in the U.K. And then, of course, the University of Edinburgh lingers in my search history.

My fingers hesitate over the trackpad.

Edinburgh.

Faye's university. The place where she spent years studying, living, growing. The place where she became the person she is now.

Would she want me to go there? Would she want me to follow her path? Or... would it feel like I was just chasing after her? I exhale, shaking my head.

Stop overthinking, Yoko. Just research.

I scroll through the course modules, my eyes catching on some of the poetry classes, the comparative literature studies, the creative writing electives. My heart flutters a little.

I can already imagine myself sitting in those lecture halls, writing essays about the works I love, engaging in deep discussions with professors—maybe even meeting someone as sharp and sassy as Professor Evans.

The thought makes me smirk.

Just as I'm about to click on the admission details, my phone buzzes beside me.

Faye

Hey, darling.

My heart skips. I bite my lip, unlocking my phone immediately.

Yoko

Hey, babe.

There's a pause, then another message.

Faye

What are you up to?

I glance at my laptop screen, hesitating for a moment before typing back.

Yoko

Just doing some research...

A few seconds pass. Then:

Faye

Research? What kind of research?

I swallow, fingers hovering over my keyboard. Do I tell her now? Or do I wait until I've thought it through properly?

Before I can decide, another text comes through.

Faye

Should I be worried?

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Yoko

No, babe. Just... thinking about the future.

The three little dots appear on the screen, then vanish. Then appear again.

Finally—

Faye

Are you free right now?

I blink.

Yoko

Yeah?

Faye

Come over.

My stomach flutters.

Yoko

Right now?

Faye

Yes.

I exhale, a soft smile pulling at my lips.

Yoko

Okay. Be there soon.

I shut my laptop, my heart racing slightly as I get up, and head downstairs.

Because if I'm going to figure out my future, there's only one person I want to talk to first.

And that's her.

I grab my hoodie from the hook by the door, slipping it on as I pull out my keys. Just as I'm about to step out—

"Going out already?"

I freeze.

I turn to see my dad standing in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Oh no.

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one saying you'd be home today? Something about resting and giving each other space?"

I groan. "Dad, please."

He chuckles, walking over and leaning against the wall like he's got all the time in the world to tease me. "So much for staying in and 'doing your own things,' huh?"

I huff, clutching my hoodie tighter around me. "Change of plans. Faye asked me over."

"Ah." He nods like he totally understands. Then, smirking—"You mean, you immediately folded the second she texted?"

My face heats.

"No!" I sputter. "I—I had to think about it!"

He laughs outright at that, shaking his head. "Sure, kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I groan again, stomping towards the door. "I'm leaving!"

"Tell Faye I said hi," he calls after me. "And that she's clearly won the girlfriend championship!"

I slam the door shut behind me, my face burning as I make my way to my car.

God, my dad is impossible. And the worst part?

He's so right.

The drive to Faye's place is short, but it feels too long. My fingers tap against the steering wheel impatiently at every red light, my mind already racing ahead to the moment I get to see her.

By the time I finally pull into her driveway and park, I don't even hesitate—I unbuckle, grab my bag, and head straight to her front door.

The second the door opens—

I launch myself into her arms.

Faye lets out a surprised laugh, stumbling back slightly before catching me with ease. Her arms wrap around me instinctively, warm and firm, and I melt into her, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume—something woody, something familiar.

"Wow," she murmurs, amusement lacing her tone. "Not even a hello first?"

I nuzzle against her neck, not bothering to lift my head. "Hi."

She chuckles, one hand stroking down my back, the other coming up to thread into my hair. "Missed me that much, huh?"

I hum, pressing closer, completely unashamed.

She shifts slightly, and I can hear the smirk in her voice before she even speaks. "I see you're still raiding my closet, baby."

I groan, pulling back just enough to look at her. "Don't start."

Faye's eyes flicker down to the hoodie I'm wearing—her hoodie. Oversized, black, and ridiculously comfortable. 

She lifts a brow, clearly biting back a grin. "You own sweaters, you know."

I huff. "Yeah, but yours are better."

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Better?"

I nod solemnly. "They smell like you."

Her expression softens, the teasing glint in her eyes dimming into something quieter, something fonder. 

Her fingers trail down my arm before she pulls me back in, murmuring, "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

I grin against her collarbone. "And yet, you love me."

She exhales a laugh, her arms tightening around me. "Yeah," she whispers. "I really do."

We somehow make it to the couch, though I don't remember letting go of her. 

Faye's arm is lazily draped over the backrest, her fingers occasionally brushing against my shoulder as I lean into her. 

My legs are curled up beneath me, my cheek resting lightly against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

This is peace.

She plays with the ends of my hair absentmindedly, and I know she's waiting, sensing the weight in my silence.

"What's on your mind, baby?"

Her voice is soft, warm, pulling me from my thoughts. I hesitate, staring at the way my fingers rest against the fabric of her hoodie—her hoodie, which she's teasing me about every few minutes just to make me pout.

I tilt my head slightly, inhaling. "I've been thinking about... the future."

Faye hums, shifting slightly so she can see my face better. "Our future?"

A soft blush creeps up my neck. "Well... mine. But also... ours."

Her brows lift slightly, but she doesn't speak, giving me space to continue.

I swallow. "I've been looking at universities."

Something flickers in her gaze, unreadable. She doesn't look surprised—she looks prepared, as if she's been expecting me to say this.

I exhale a slow breath. "I don't know where I want to go yet, but... I've been considering places overseas. Maybe the UK. Maybe here." I chew on my bottom lip. "But then... I think about what that means. For us."

Faye's fingers still against my hair.

I press on, voice quiet. "If I go overseas, I won't get to see you every day like I do now. We'll be apart for months at a time, and I don't—" I stop myself before I let the rest slip out, before I admit that the idea terrifies me.

Faye exhales slowly, shifting so she's fully facing me. Her hands find mine, fingers weaving together, grounding me.

"Yoko," she murmurs. "We'll figure it out."

I shake my head, pressing my forehead against her shoulder. "I don't want to lose what we have."

She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. "You won't."

I sigh, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You say that like it's so easy."

Her lips curl into a small smile, full of quiet confidence. "Because it is."

I blink. "How?"

Her thumb brushes against my knuckles. "Because I love you. Because I'll wait for you. Because distance won't change how I feel about you."

My heart clenches.

She continues, voice steady, sure. "I'll support you no matter what, whether you choose to stay or go. Your future is yours, Yoko. And I'll be right here, proud of you, waiting for you, loving you every step of the way."

I don't realize I'm tearing up until she reaches up, brushing her thumb gently against my cheek.

"You're really good at this," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She smirks. "At what?"

I swallow. "Loving me."

Faye's expression softens, and then she leans in, pressing the gentlest, most reverent kiss against my lips.

"That's because I intend to do it for a long, long time."

I exhale slowly, feeling lighter, feeling held—not just in Faye's arms, but in the way she listens, in the way she reassures me, in the way she loves me without hesitation.

I shift slightly, curling into her warmth, fingers still intertwined with hers. "I've been researching some universities."

Faye hums, her other hand absentmindedly stroking the side of my arm. "Oh?"

I nod. "I looked into University of Edinburgh again—"

She chuckles softly. "Of course you did."

I huff, nudging her side playfully. "Let me finish!"

She grins, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "Go on, baby."

I clear my throat, attempting to regain some composure. "I also checked out University of London, Oxford, Cambridge—"

"Wow, look at you," she teases. "Going straight for the elite ones, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "It's just research."

She smirks. "Mhm. And how much of that research was influenced by a certain Professor Evans?"

I groan, hiding my face against her shoulder. "Shut up."

Faye laughs, full and warm, the vibrations soothing against my skin. "I knew it."

I pull back, crossing my arms. "For your information, Professor Evans is incredibly accomplished and has a brilliant academic background, which is obviously inspiring—"

Faye raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And you totally didn't just say you wanted to be as intimidating as her?"

I scowl, cheeks warming. "I do want to be intimidating!"

She bites her lip, trying so hard not to laugh. "Baby, you're adorable. You are not intimidating."

I shove at her playfully. "I can be!"

She smirks, leaning in, lowering her voice. "Not when you're pouting at me in my hoodie."

I blink, suddenly very aware of the way I'm curled into her, drowning in the fabric that still carries her scent. I groan. "You're impossible."

Faye grins. "And you love it."

I shake my head, but a small, traitorous smile tugs at my lips.

She softens, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You know I'll support whatever you choose, right? No matter where you go."

I nod, my heart swelling. "Yeah. I know."

Faye presses a kiss to my temple. "Good." Then, after a beat, she smirks. "But if you do choose Edinburgh, I might be able to pull some strings and get you a personal letter of recommendation from Professor Evans herself."

My eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

She laughs. "Oh my god, you're actually considering it."

I shove at her again, flustered. "I hate you."

She just grins, utterly unbothered. "No, you don't."

And she's right. I don't. I never could.

Faye's laughter settles into something softer, something warm and knowing as she rests her chin against my head.

"So," she murmurs, tracing absentminded patterns against my arm, "what exactly do you want to study?"

I exhale, staring at the way my fingers play with the hem of her hoodie. "English Literature, obviously."

She smirks. "Obviously."

I glance up at her, rolling my eyes. "But I was also thinking about Creative Writing... Maybe even Journalism?"

Faye hums, nodding. "All solid choices."

I hesitate, biting my lip. "I mean, I don't have to do English Literature, but..."

"But you want to."

I nod. "I do." Then, after a beat, I add, "And you might've been a tiny influence on that decision."

She grins, smug as ever. "Might have?"

I huff, nudging her. "Okay, fine. A lot."

She chuckles, leaning back slightly. "So you're telling me you want to be like me?"

I smirk. "Oh, I could never."

Her brows arch. "Oh?"

I grin, looking at her with all the playful reverence I can muster. "You're too cool, Ms. Peraya. No one could ever live up to the legendary, incredibly charming, devastatingly attractive literature teacher that you are."

Faye snorts. "Okay, now I know you're messing with me."

I laugh, resting my head against her shoulder. "A little."

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And you love it."

She mutters something under her breath—something fond, something exasperated—and then shifts, her voice turning more serious.

"But really, Yoko. Whatever you choose to study, make sure it's something you love. Don't pick a degree just because it seems like the 'right' thing to do, or because you think it'll make me proud."

I blink at her. "But I do love it."

She smiles, cupping my face gently. "Then that's all that matters."

I lean into her touch, feeling the warmth of her palm against my skin. "I just... I don't know where to go yet."

She nods. "That's okay. You have time to decide."

I sigh. "I know, but it's still overwhelming."

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Welcome to adulthood, baby."

I groan. "Gross."

She laughs, and for a moment, everything feels lighter.

Then, she hums in thought. "Well, if you do go for Creative Writing or Literature, I'd suggest looking at schools that have strong faculty members in your areas of interest. Some universities focus more on poetry, some on prose, some on academia and analysis. If you're leaning towards journalism, check which schools offer strong internship programmes."

I nod, taking in her words. "That makes sense."

She smirks. "I did go through all this before, you know."

I grin. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Ms. Peraya."

She rolls her eyes, but I see the small, proud smile tugging at her lips. "Well, whatever you decide, you're going to be brilliant."

I grin, heart full. "You really think so?"

She presses a kiss to my temple. "I know so."

I exhale, letting her words sink in, the warmth of her certainty settling into my chest. 

There's something about the way Faye says things—like she's already seen the future and she knows I'll be okay, that I'll do something great, something I love.

I want to believe it too.

Still, the weight of the decision lingers, the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my excitement. "It just feels like... once I decide, that's it, you know?"

Faye hums, shifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "It's not, though."

I blink at her. "What do you mean?"

She tilts her head slightly, thoughtful. "You're not deciding the rest of your life in one go, Yoko. Just the next step."

I frown. "But if I pick the wrong thing—"

She stops me with a soft tap to my forehead, then cups my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks. "Then you pivot. Change directions. Choose again. It's not failure, it's just... figuring things out."

I let out a breath. "You make it sound so easy."

She grins. "It's not. But it's not impossible either."

I groan, falling back against the couch dramatically. "Adulthood sucks."

Faye chuckles, leaning over me. "You're not even there yet, baby."

I peek up at her, pouting. "Yeah, but it's creeping up on me."

She smirks, poking my cheek. "You'll be fine."

I huff but melt a little when she presses a kiss to my forehead.

We sit like that for a moment, the weight of the conversation lingering between us in something soft, something unspoken. 

Faye just holds me, her presence grounding me, and I let myself fall into it—into her warmth, into the quiet confidence she carries so effortlessly.

Then—because I can't resist—I pull back, tilting my head.

"So," I start, lips twitching, "would you ever let me be your assistant in class?"

Faye snorts. "Absolutely not."

I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in mock betrayal. "Wow. You didn't even hesitate."

She grins, crossing her arms. "Yoko, you'd distract the entire class, and we both know it."

I scoff. "Me? Distracting?"

She gives me a look. "You're literally sitting in my lap right now."

I blink. Okay. Fair point.

She chuckles at my silence, leaning in. "If you ever become a teacher, you can do your own class however you want. But in mine? You're a student, darling."

I narrow my eyes. "Sounds like discrimination."

She grins. "Sounds like boundaries."

I huff, crossing my arms. "Fine. Then I'll just have to steal your students one day when I become a teacher too."

She laughs. "Oh? So you are considering following in my footsteps?"

I pause, lips twitching. "No comment."

She shakes her head, laughing softly, and I watch her—watch the way the light catches in her eyes, the way she looks at me like she sees something worth believing in.

And maybe... maybe that's enough.

For now.

NOTE FROM MEOWINGHAM: Hi everyone. I know I said on X that we will have a chapter update on Friday. But instead, I felt strongly, compelled to post the update today instead.

The context is that, this chapter was written yesterday when I had no single idea that the cursed press conference is today. And what I wanted to portray in this chapter is how Yoko is thinking about her future but also with Faye (because she loves her.)

And, when the cursed press conference today happened, I felt so much pain, so much ache for Yoko. Whether what she said is scripted or not, I can only feel that she is really, really upset.

Because what is future without having someone you love by your side?

But I do hope that today's impromptu chapter update gives you a sort of comfort, a solace, a fantasy to seek refuge in.

That in another universe, Faye and Yoko is together, not separated because of circumstances or anyone's evil doing.

So, let's... just enjoy this chapter. Where they work things out, where they plan their future together with understanding, with fierce love for each other, with no separation.

And with that, I leave you to re-read this chapter whenever you want, whenever you need, as we all process the conference from today.

FayeYoko will always, always be the couple in real life for all of us.