Chapter 10

Two days later, Vivi got a call from Professor Lang.

“Vivienne, there are rumors spreading in the department. Old plagiarism claims again. And some sketches posted anonymously online. They look like yours but labeled as copies. I believe you, but the exhibition board is asking questions. We need to handle this carefully.”

Vivi’s world tilted. “It’s Delphine.”

“I suspected as much,” Professor Lang said. “Gather evidence and stay focused on your real work.”

When Vivi hung up, she sat on the edge of Asher’s bed and put her head in her hands.

Asher found her like that when he came home. He knelt in front of her. “Talk to me.”

She did. The words came out short and hard. The stolen sketchbook. The emails. Delphine’s threats. The fear that her entire thesis would be ruined before it even opened.

Asher listened. When she finished, he took her hands. “We fight this. Together. You paint. I’ll watch your back.”

She wanted to pull away. To say she didn’t need him. But she didn’t. Instead she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.

For a moment, the world felt smaller. Just the two of them.

Then Asher’s phone buzzed. A text from Finn.

Finn: Dude, someone’s spreading stuff about your roommate online. Art drama. Looks dirty.

Asher showed her the message. Vivi’s face went pale.

The sabotage was moving faster now. And it was no longer just whispers.

Outside, rain started falling hard against the windows. The apartment felt smaller, the walls thinner.

Vivi looked at Asher. “I won’t let her win.”

“Good,” he said. “Neither will I.”

But as they sat there, hands still linked, both of them knew the real storm was only beginning.

The rain kept falling for three straight days. It matched the mood in the apartment—steady, unrelenting. Vivi threw herself into her paintings. Piece fourteen took shape on the easel: sharper gold lines now, pulling the broken figure back together with stronger strokes. She worked late, earbuds in, trying to drown out the fear.

Asher respected her space, but he stayed close. He left protein bars by her door during long sessions and made sure the coffee was always ready. One evening he came back from practice with takeout bags. “Thai. Your favorite spice level.”

She ate with him at the counter. Their knees brushed under the table. Neither moved away.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she said quietly.

“I know.” He met her eyes. “I want to.”

That night they ended up on the couch watching a quiet documentary about street artists. Halfway through, Vivi’s head rested on his shoulder. Asher’s arm came around her slowly. They stayed like that until the credits rolled. No words. Just warmth and the sound of rain on the windows.

The next morning brought the first real blow.

Vivi’s phone lit up during breakfast. An alert from the art department forum. Someone had posted old sketches—hers—labeled “Unoriginal Copies: Vivienne Kane’s Greatest Hits.” Comments poured in. Some laughed. Others questioned her thesis.

She stared at the screen, appetite gone. “Delphine.”

Asher looked over her shoulder. His face darkened. “This stops now.”

“Don’t,” Vivi warned. “I handle my own fights.”

But Asher was already texting. By afternoon, rumors reached the rugby team. Finn showed up at the apartment with Theo, carrying a box of snacks and determination.

“Little sis is under attack?” Finn said, plopping on the couch. “We got eyes everywhere.”

Vivi almost smiled despite herself. “I don’t need bodyguards.”

Theo shrugged. “Too late. Team decided.”

Asher nodded at them. “Just keep ears open on campus. No big moves yet.”

Vivi pulled Asher aside later. “This is my mess. Your season is important. Don’t risk it.”

He cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks. “You’re important too.”

The touch lingered. She leaned in. Their lips met softly—warm, careful, full of things unsaid. When they pulled back, both breathed a little faster. Asher rested his forehead on hers. “We’ll figure this out.”

That evening, Professor Lang called again. “The exhibition committee wants a review of your portfolio early. Gather everything you have. I’m on your side, Vivienne, but proof matters.”

Vivi spent the night organizing files. Asher sat nearby, quiet support. Around midnight she closed her laptop and looked at him. “Stay with me tonight?”

He didn’t hesitate. They went to his bed. She curled against him, his arm around her waist. Sleep came easier with his steady heartbeat near hers. No more words. Just closeness that felt like safety.

Delphine struck harder the next day.

Vivi arrived at the studio to find her main workspace trashed. Paints spilled, brushes scattered, and one of her smaller practice canvases slashed with red paint that read “FRAUD” across it. Security cameras showed nothing useful—someone had timed it perfectly.

She called Asher, voice tight. He arrived in fifteen minutes, still in practice gear, mud on his shoes. “Who did this?”

“Delphine. Has to be.” Vivi’s hands shook as she cleaned up. “She’s dating my ex. This is personal.”

Asher helped her gather the ruined supplies. His jaw was set. Later, he walked her to Professor Lang’s office. The professor listened, eyes sharp. “This is sabotage. I’ll push for an investigation. But keep working, Vivienne. Your real pieces will speak louder.”

Outside the office, Asher spotted Delphine down the hall, talking with a group of fine arts students. She laughed at something, then glanced their way with that cutting smile.

Asher stepped forward. Vivi grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

But he pulled free gently. “Hey,” he called, voice carrying. “Delphine, right? Leave Vivi alone. This department sees talent. Stop trying to bury it with lies.”

Delphine’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Defending your little roommate? Cute. But everyone knows her history. Stolen ideas. Weak work. Maybe you should focus on your game instead of playing hero.”

A small crowd gathered. Phones came out.

Asher’s voice stayed calm but firm. “Her work is real. Yours looks like desperation. Back off.”

Delphine smirked. “We’ll see at the exhibition.”

Campus security broke it up. But word spread fast. By evening, Asher got a call from his coach. “Donovan, what the hell? Nearly suspended for harassment? Fix this. We have games coming.”

Asher hung up, frustrated. Vivi found him in the kitchen, staring at his phone.

“This is why I said no,” she said. “Your team needs you. Your future—”

“My future can wait.” He pulled her close. She didn’t resist. They stood like that in the quiet kitchen, arms around each other. The hug turned into another kiss—deeper this time, full of quiet need. Clothes stayed on. Hands explored gently over fabric. Heat built until they moved to the bedroom, door closed behind them. Everything faded to the comfort of shared warmth, whispered names, and the kind of closeness that healed more than it burned.

Afterward, they lay together under the covers. Asher traced a paint stain on her arm. “Worth it.”

Vivi rested her head on his chest. “You’re stubborn.”

“So are you.”

The rugby boys stepped up more. They showed up the next afternoon with cleaning supplies and new paints for Vivi’s studio. Finn joked the whole time, lightening the mood. Theo carried heavy boxes without complaint.

“Team little sis gets full protection,” Finn declared, handing her a fresh sketchbook. “And Ash is officially whipped.”

Asher laughed and shoved him. Vivi watched them, a small real smile breaking through. For the first time, she felt like part of something bigger than her walls.

Marcus met her on campus the following day. They sat on a bench under a tree. “Heard about the drama. And the rugby captain defending you. Things changed since the flood.”

Vivi nodded. “He’s... there. Doesn’t push. Just stays.”

Marcus studied her. “You like him.”

She didn’t deny it. “Terrifies me.”

“Good. Means it’s real.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve got your back too. Send me anything you need for evidence.”

That night, another email arrived. This one included a photo of the torn sketch page—the drawing of Asher’s hands. The message read: “Private obsessions? How sweet. Exhibition will be fun.”

Vivi showed it to Asher. His eyes hardened. “We’re ending this.”

They spent the evening gathering proof: screenshots, timestamps, witness notes from the studio. Asher’s friend on the team helped trace one post back to an account linked to Delphine’s circle.

But Delphine had friends in high places. The next morning, Vivi got word that the exhibition board wanted a formal meeting. Doubts were growing.

Tension filled the apartment. Asher had an important game coming up, but he skipped extra practice to stay with her. They cooked dinner together—simple pasta—and talked about everything except the fear. After, they watched the rain from the window, his arm around her.

“You’re painting brighter,” he said softly.

“Because of you,” she admitted.

He kissed the top of her head. They moved to the bedroom soon after. The closeness came naturally now—tender, reassuring, a quiet promise in every touch. They fell asleep wrapped together, the storm outside matching the one building inside.