The air outside RAPS was cool and quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pristine cobblestone path leading to its grand gates. Q walked beside Professor Ligarius, her head bowed, her shoulders hunched.
She didn't say a word, and neither did Professor Ligarius.
The silence between them stretched, broken only by the soft clicking of his polished boots against the stones and the scuffed thuds of her own muddied ones.
When they reached the gates, Q stopped. She didn't turn back to look at the towering building behind her or the glittering spires that had seemed so magical when she'd first arrived. Instead, she stared straight ahead, her hands clutching the sides of her apron.
"Did you forget anything?"
Q sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and defeat. "No."
Professor Ligarius tilted his head, his sharp gray eyes studying her closely.
"Are you sure?"
She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, finally, she looked up at him, her eyes tired and red from crying.
"I just wanted to talk to Maddy," she said softly. "That's all I wanted. But she… she doesn't want to talk to me. So I'll just go home."
Home. The thought of it made her stomach churn. She could already picture her mother's angry face, hear the sharpness of her voice as she demanded to know where Q had been. There would be yelling, maybe worse. Her mother hated when she skipped chores, and running off without permission was practically an invitation for punishment.
But what choice did she have? Maddy didn't want her here.
No one did.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what awaited her. But just as she was about to step forward, Professor Ligarius spoke again.
"What about your letters?"
Q blinked, confused. "What?"
Professor Ligarius gestured toward the small bundle of folded papers still tucked into the pocket of her apron.
"The letters. You're holding them as tightly now as when you arrived."
Q glanced down at them, her cheeks flushing as she realized she'd been clutching the bundle without even thinking.
"They were for Miss Carlton, weren't they?"
Q nodded slowly.
"Yeah. One for every day she'd be gone." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But it's stupid. She wouldn't want them anyway."
"Stupid?" Professor Ligarius raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "You wrote 365 letters, intending to give them to her day by day. That doesn't sound stupid to me. That sounds… determined."
Q frowned, unsure if he was teasing her or not. "It doesn't matter. She doesn't care."
"Perhaps not right now," Ligarius said, his tone thoughtful. "But feelings change. Circumstances shift. If she won't take them all at once, why not do as you intended? One letter, one day at a time."
Q stared at him, her brow furrowing. "You mean… give them to her? Even after…"
"Yes," Professor Ligarius said simply. "Precisely as you planned. A little patience, Miss Q. Even the most stubborn hearts can soften over time."
Q looked back down at the bundle of letters, her fingers brushing over the edges. The thought of giving them to Maddy felt… impossible. Embarrassing, even. But then, it was the reason she had written them, wasn't it?
She bit her lip, the ache in her chest easing just slightly as a flicker of hope stirred.
"You really think she'll read them?"
For the first time, Professor Ligarius didn't have an immediate answer. His sharp gray eyes softened, his lips parting slightly as though to speak, but before he could form a response, a voice rang out behind them.
"Queenie!"
The sound of her name—her full name, no less—sent a jolt through Q. She turned so quickly she almost tripped over her own feet, her heart leaping into her throat.
And then she saw her.
Maddy.
Not the painted, perfect version of Maddy she'd seen earlier, but the Maddy she knew.
Her golden hair was coming loose from its pins, strands sticking out in all directions as she ran. She was holding her skirt up—far higher than was appropriate—revealing her bare knees and a flash of the stockings beneath. Her heels clacked awkwardly against the cobblestones as she sprinted, her arms flailing slightly as though trying to keep her balance.
Q's breath caught. She stood frozen, watching as Maddy stumbled, nearly twisting an ankle. Her hands flew to her mouth as Maddy tripped, her body pitching forward toward the ground.
"Maddy!" Q cried, her instincts taking over as she started to move.
But before she could take more than a step, Professor Ligarius's gloved hand rested lightly on her shoulder.
"Wait."
Q turned to glare at him, her frustration clear. "She's going to hurt herself!"
"And she'll get back up," Professor Ligarius replied, his tone even. "Let her meet you this time, Miss Q."
Q hesitated, torn between her urge to run to Maddy's side and the quiet conviction in Professor Ligarius's voice. Her heart clenched as she watched Maddy fall, her knees hitting the cobblestones with a sickening thud.
But Professor Ligarius was right.
Maddy slowly pushed herself up, her hands trembling slightly as she brushed at her skirt. She winced, her face red with exertion and embarrassment, but she didn't stop.
Instead, she kicked off her heels, her stockinged feet landing on the stones with a soft slap. Gathering her skirts again, she started running toward Q once more.
This time, there was nothing elegant about her.
Her stride was uneven, her hair a wild mess, and her dress had a tear at the hem where it had caught on something. But Q had never seen her look more like herself.
When Maddy finally reached her, she didn't say a word. She threw her arms around Q and pulled her into a fierce hug, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
For a moment, Q stood there in shock, her arms hovering awkwardly at her sides. But then the warmth of Maddy's embrace broke through her confusion, and she wrapped her arms around her friend, holding her just as tightly.
"I'm sorry," Maddy whispered, her voice muffled against Q's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
Q's throat tightened, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes again. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded.
Behind them, Professor Ligarius watched in silence, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.