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The dorm was unusually quiet that evening. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of Ophelia Hall, painting pale streaks across the floorboards.
Enid sat curled on her bed, phone dark in her hand, ears pricked for the sound of the door.
Wednesday had been gone longer than usual. She hadn't said where—not that she ever really did—but Enid had grown used to the rhythm of her absences: the library, the greenhouse, occasional late-night "expeditions" with Thing.
When the door creaked open, Enid straightened.
Wednesday entered with her usual deliberate steps, black boots clicking softly against the wood.
Her expression was unreadable, as always, but her hair was slightly mussed. There was something different in the way she moved. Like she'd been in a hurry and was only now remembering to compose herself.
Enid's nose twitched.
A sharp, unfamiliar scent threaded through the air, clinging to Wednesday's coat, her collar, even her skin.
Not the comforting ink-and-metal tang Enid had grown used to, not the sterile paper of the library. No. This was something warmer.
Living.
Someone else.
Enid’s stomach dropped.
The scent threaded through everything else until it was all she could smell.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Jealousy wasn't familiar territory. Not with Wednesday.
Their relationship had always been careful. Deliberate. A handful of heated kisses stolen in quiet corners and little else. Enid had never pushed for more. Never wanted to risk whatever fragile thing existed between them.
And it had been enough.
More than enough.
Because it was Wednesday.
So why now, with one breath, did it feel like the floor had been yanked out from under her?
The answer was simple, primal.
She had never smelled anyone on Wednesday like this before. Not faint, not accidental, not in passing. This was close.
Clinging.
A trace that whispered of proximity, of lingering touch.
Her wolf bristled inside her, claws scraping against her ribs.
Enid wrapped her arms around herself.
But it was too late.
The feeling had already taken hold.
"You're late," she said.
The words came out sharper than intended
Wednesday set her bag down with her usual precision.
“Time is a tedious metric. It matters only to those afraid of death.”
“Where were you?”
“Town.”
Wednesday shrugged off her coat.
“Doing what?”
“Acquiring supplies.”
“With who?”
Wednesday glanced at her.
Enid swallowed.
She hadn’t meant to push this hard, but the scent — God, the scent — was everywhere.
“It’s... that's not your usual smell.”
Wednesday paused.
Enid's pulse jumped.
“It’s someone else's.”
The words came out barely above a whisper.
For a moment, Wednesday simply looked at her.
No explanation. No immediate denial. Nothing.
A knot tightened in Enid's stomach.
“You are correct,” Wednesday said at last. “I encountered someone in town.”
Enid blinked.
“Umm… sorry, wait—what?”
Wednesday reached for her bag as though the conversation had been settled.
Enid stared at her.
“Someone?”
The word came out louder than intended.
“Who is someone?”
Wednesday moved toward her side of the room.
Enid tracked her immediately.
“No. No, you don't get to do that.”
Wednesday stopped.
“Do what?”
“Make it sound like it's nothing.”
“What answer were you expecting?”
Enid laughed.
The sound was thin and brittle.
“I can smell them on you Wednesday.
Her voice wavered.
“Everywhere.”
The scent was getting stronger the more Wednesday moved around the room.
Every breath carried it. Her nails ached. Her gums burned.
The wolf beneath her skin stirred restlessly, instincts pushing forward faster than reason could keep up.
Under any other circumstance she would've been mortified. Right now she couldn't bring herself to care.
Wednesday tilted her head.
“You sound distressed.”
The words hit like a slap.
Enid stared at her.
“What am I supposed to sound like?”
She pushed off the bed.
The restless energy under her skin refused to let her stay still.
“You walk in carrying someone else's scent like a coat you forgot to take off and I'm supposed to just—”
She stopped pacing and looked at Wednesday.
“What?”
Her voice sharpened.
“What exactly am I supposed to think?”
“Think rationally,” Wednesday cut in. “It does not mean what you assume.”
Enid's jaw tightened.
Her eyes searched Wednesday’s face for a crack.
A tell.
Anything.
“And what do you think I'm assuming?”
Wednesday didn't answer.
The silence made something ugly twist in Enid's chest.
“No, really.”
Her voice climbed despite herself.
“Go ahead.”
Wednesday remained infuriatingly composed.
“Tell me.”
The words spilled out before she could stop them.
“Because right now it feels like you're standing there studying me.”
Wednesday's expression hardened.
“Observing is not the same as indifference.”
Enid let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
“Seriously?”
She threw her hands into the air.
“I'm standing here trying not to fall apart and you're arguing semantics.”
“I am trying to explain the situation.”
“No.”
Enid shook her head.
“You're trying to explain why I shouldn't feel like this.”
Her throat tightened.
“I'm your girlfriend.”
Wednesday looked away for the first time.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Enid hadn't seen that expression in months.
The mask.
Cold. Controlled. Impenetrable.
“You are assigning significance to something trivial.”
The air seemed to leave the room.
“Trivial?”
The word hung between them.
Wednesday's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Like she was trying to work backwards through the conversation and finding herself lost.
Too late.
Enid stared at her.
“God.”
Her voice cracked.
She hated it.
Hated that Wednesday heard it.
Hated that she sounded hurt.
“This isn't about a scent.”
She swallowed hard.
“It’s about what it means.”
A beat.
“And clearly...” Her laugh was sharp and humourless.
“It means nothing.”
Enid started pacing again.
Three steps one way.
Three steps back.
Her hands carved through the air as though she could physically force the words into a shape Wednesday would understand.
“This isn't complicated.”
Her voice tightened.
Louder now.
Wednesday frowned.
Her eyes were watching Enid like she was trying to find the correct response and coming up empty.
Enid stopped and searched her face.
Waiting for something.
Anything.
Nothing came.
Instead, there was only hesitation.
“Right.”
The word tasted bitter.
“I guess caring just becomes inconvenient when feelings get involved.”
Wednesday's jaw tightened. She was getting angry. Enid could smell that too.
Her gaze flicked toward the door.
Toward escape.
Enid saw it immediately.
A disbelieving scoff escaped her.
Of course, Wednesday wanted out of this conversation.
The tears burned behind her eyes.
She refused to let them fall.
Instead, she took a step forward.
“Who was it?”
“Enid.”
“Just answer me, Wednesday.”
For a second it looked like Wednesday finally would.
“She was—”
“You didn't even try to hide it. You—”
The words collided.
Enid stopped cold.
“...She?”
The room went silent.
Wednesday closed her eyes.
A slow breath.
She lifted two fingers and pinched the bridge of her nose.
The gesture somehow felt worse than anger.
It was like she was running out of patience. Like this entire conversation was exhausting.
Enid's stomach dropped.
Her wolf was clawing at her insides now. Every instinct screaming. Every rational thought getting drowned beneath it.
She swallowed.
“Did you kiss her?”
Something cracked in Wednesday's composure. Surprise, then a dark flare of offense.
“Enid.”
She said her name again.
Harder this time.
Enid's eyes burned.
“That's not a no.”
The words slipped out, raw, trembling.
Wednesday’s mouth pressed into a hard line. Her gaze narrowed, offended that she even had to dignify it with an answer. She stepped closer, hands flexing at her sides.
“The fact that you think I would need to answer that is insulting.”
“Then why?”
Enid took another step forward.
“Why are we even here?”
Her voice cracked.
A flicker of frustration crossed Wednesday's face.
“Because I refuse to be interrogated like some unfaithful paramour.”
“That isn't what I'm asking.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No!”
The word echoed through the room.
Enid dragged a hand through her hair.
Wednesday inhaled slowly.
The breath left her in a controlled exhale.
When she spoke again, her voice had that measured quality Enid hated.
The one that sounded dangerously close to being talked down to.
“There is no 'she,' Enid. You smell proximity, not intimacy. Contact, not connection.”
A disbelieving scoff escaped her.
Wednesday's voice remained infuriatingly calm.
“What you choose to infer from that is your decision.”
For a moment, Enid could only stare at her.
She couldn't believe that was the answer.
No denial. No reassurance. Just another explanation. Another correction.
“What about my feelings?”
Wednesday looked genuinely thrown.
“What about them?”
Enid's breath caught.
“Do they even register as real to you?”
“Emotion does not equate to truth.”
Something snapped.
“Then why does it feel like I'm the only one here who feels anything?”
The words tore out of her.
Loud enough to echo off the dorm walls.
Silence.
Wednesday didn't move.
Enid closed her eyes.
The next breath sounded dangerously close to a sob.
When she opened them again, Wednesday was still standing there.
The scent was still there. So was the distance between them.
Something inside her finally gave way.
“You're smart, Wednesday.”
Her voice barely carried.
“I'm done explaining it to you.”
She turned before Wednesday could answer.
The door slammed behind her.
>>>
The room fell silent.
Wednesday stood exactly where Enid had left her.
Enid's absence felt wrong.
Wednesday's mouth thinned.
Ridiculous.
The argument itself was ridiculous.
The conclusion was irrational.
The evidence was obvious.
And yet.
Her gaze drifted to the door.
She could still hear Enid's voice.
What about my feelings?
Wednesday frowned.
The question made no sense.
Feelings had never been the subject of the discussion.
The discussion had been about facts.
About a scent.
About a misunderstanding.
Yet somehow Enid had asked the same question over and over without ever using the words.
What am I supposed to think? Do you even care? Why am I the only one acting like this matters?
Wednesday closed her eyes.
Anger burned, yes.
At the accusation. At the absurdity of it. That she would betray Enid. That Enid could believe it. Yet the anger never settled. It kept catching on something else. Something far more uncomfortable.
The look on Enid's face.
Enid had always been the one to reach first.
The first text. The first touch. The first apology. The first kiss.
A hundred tiny moments Wednesday had accepted without question. Without noticing the pattern. Or perhaps noticing it and allowing it anyway. Because Enid always reached. And Wednesday had quietly come to expect that she would.
Her gaze drifted toward the door.
The room felt wrong without her in it.
Finally, Wednesday moved.
She crossed to her desk and unfastened her bag.
The handkerchief was exactly where she had left it. Crisp linen. Frayed at one corner.
Not hers.
Wednesday lifted it between two fingers.
The memory surfaced immediately.
A shattered vial. The apothecary matron fussing over her before she could step away. Hands at her collar. A floral perfume strong enough to smother the room. The entire encounter had lasted less than a minute.
Less than a minute.
Wednesday stared at the handkerchief.
Then at the empty space where Enid should have been.
Her jaw tightened.
The explanation had been simple.
Embarrassingly simple.
And yet she had never given it.
Why?
Why had the argument spiralled so badly?
Because Enid had spent the entire argument asking for something Wednesday had never actually given her. Not evidence. Not explanations. Not facts.
Reassurance.
And Wednesday had answered every question except that one.
Something colder than anger settled in her chest.
Enid had been right about one thing. She had walked away hurt.
And Wednesday had stood there and watched it happen.
Hours bled away in silence, the dorm cloaked in shadows that stretched and shifted as the night deepened.
Wednesday hadn't moved from where Enid had left her.
The argument replayed endlessly.
Different approaches. Different answers. Different outcomes.
No matter how many times she replayed the conversation, she arrived at the same conclusion.
She had been given countless opportunities to stop Enid from walking away.
And wasted every one.
The door creaked open.
Wednesday's head snapped up.
Enid stood in the doorway.
Eyes red.
Arms folded tightly across her chest.
“"You came back."
Her tone was even, but the words landed heavier than they should have.
Something flickered across Enid's face. Wednesday saw the exact moment she remembered. The scent.
A fresh wave of self-recrimination hit her.
Hours.
Enid had been gone for hours and somehow it had never occurred to her to take a shower. An embarrassing oversight.
“I needed air.”
Wednesday nodded once.
Then, with uncharacteristic haste, crossed to her desk.
The handkerchief was still where she had left it.
She snatched it up before she could reconsider.
Held it out.
“This is the culprit.”
Enid frowned. Her nose wrinkled.
"Apothecary."
Wednesday took a breath.
"A vial shattered. The matron involved herself."
Enid stared at the linen.
Wednesday forced herself to continue.
“It was unwelcome. Uninvited.”
A pause.
“Nothing.”
The last word came out flatter than she intended.
The explanation sounded absurd now that she was saying it aloud.
The silence stretched.
Wednesday found herself watching Enid's face.
Waiting.
For understanding.
For anger.
For anything.
Instead, Enid just looked at the handkerchief.
Then:
"You could have just told me that."
"I know."
The admission came easily.
That didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
Wednesday tried to catch her gaze again.
Enid looked away.
Something tightened unpleasantly in her chest.
“I should have.”
The admission sat awkwardly between them.
Wednesday hated it.
Almost as much as she hated the look on Enid's face.
Silence settled.
“I thought facts would be sufficient,” Wednesday said quietly.
“They weren't.”
“No.”
Wednesday looked down at the linen still hanging between her fingers.
"They were not."
Another silence.
This one softer than before.
Enid rubbed at her eyes.
"I don't know why I reacted like that. I'm so—"
"Don't."
Wednesday took a step forward.
Enid looked up. She wasn't looking angry. Just exhausted.
"There was never anyone else, Enid."
Something eased in Enid's shoulders. Slightly.
For so long it had been Enid reaching first. Enid moving closer. Enid closing the distance. Enid taking the risk.
Wednesday was suddenly very tired of watching her do all the work.
Slowly, she reached up.
Brushed a loose strand of hair behind Enid's ear.
The gesture felt impossibly small.
And somehow more terrifying than the argument.
Enid went very still.
"Wens..."
“I do not tolerate the scent of others.”
Wednesday hated how vulnerable she sounded.
Hated it.
Continued anyway.
“I prefer yours.”
Enid's breath caught.
Wednesday swallowed.
Stepped closer.
Close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin.
Close enough to see the uncertainty still lingering in her eyes.
“I am trying.”
The words felt strangely insufficient.
They were also the most honest thing she had said all night.
Enid's expression softened.
Just a fraction.
It was enough.
Wednesday didn't let herself think.
Didn't analyse.
Didn't retreat.
This time, she crossed the distance herself.
Her lips met Enid's.
Firm. Certain. A choice. Nothing borrowed. Nothing hesitant. Just Wednesday.
Enid froze.
Then melted into her.
Hands gripping her arms as though anchoring herself to something solid.
When Wednesday finally drew back, she stayed exactly where she was.
Forehead resting lightly against Enid's.
Breath uneven.
Pulse traitorously fast.
“You smell like me now.”
The words were shaky.
Relieved.
Wednesday felt something sharp and satisfied settle in her chest.
“As it should be.”
And this time, when she kissed Enid again, there was no doubt left between them.