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“It’s hard to miss, Ilya.”

“What is?”

She gives me a look. A really? look.

“You and Kento.”

I nearly choke on air. “There’s no ‘me and Kento.’”

She tilts her head. “There definitely is. You literally glare at me every time Dad arranges something for me and him.”

I stare at her in betrayal.

Because first of all, rude.

Second of all, apparently I’m less subtle than I thought, which is horrifying.

“I was glaring at the situation.”

She laughs softly. “Sure.”

“I didn’t—” I start, then stop.

Didn’t what?

Mean it?

Want it?

Hide it well enough?

Alya watches me struggle, then steps closer and touches my arm gently.

“You know I don’t feel anything for him, Ilya. You could’ve told me,” she says softly.

I exhale through my nose and drag a hand down my face. “You didn’t tell me about this new man either.”

She winces a little, then sighs. “Fair. I guess we both messed up a bit.”

I huff out a humorless little laugh. “A bit?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

I glance in the direction her mystery man disappeared and mutter, “By me almost tearing his shirt off his body and threatening to decorate the pavement with his organs?”

She shrugs lightly. “That wasn’t ideal, no.”

I groan and look at the sky, then another thought hits me. I turn back to her. “Does Kento know?”

She nods. “Yeah. He’s helping me with it… in exchange for some… information about you.”

“You traitor!” I accuse. “You all just…” I wave one hand vaguely between us, too irritated for proper grammar. “You all just knew? And nobody thought maybe I should be informed before I made a complete clown of myself?”

Alya’s mouth twitches. “You would’ve still made a complete clown of yourself.”

I want to be offended, but she’s smiling now, and I can already feel my own anger slipping around the edges.

Unfortunately for her, I’m now redirecting.