Chapter 306: [4.124] The Infinite Sunshine Has a Breaking Point

Harlow Valentine had a problem.

Not the normal kind of problem, like running out of her favorite strawberry lip gloss or accidentally dyeing her uniform skirt pink in the wash. Not even the medium kind of problem, like Cassidy starting a fight in the hallway or Vivienne scheduling a mandatory family meeting at six in the morning because she’d discovered inefficiencies in their breakfast routine.

No. This was a Harlow-specific problem. The kind that made her chest tight and her smile wobble at the edges and her brain loop the same thought over and over like a broken record stuck on the worst possible track.

Isaiah was going to meet Mother on Thursday.

Alone.

Harlow stood in front of her locker, staring at the inside of the door where she’d taped photographs and stickers and little notes to herself. A polaroid of all four sisters from their fifteenth birthday, back when smiling didn’t feel like a performance. A drawing Iris had given her last week, a chibi version of Harlow with hearts for eyes and a speech bubble that said "WAFFLES QUEEN." A pressed flower from the rooftop garden that she’d laminated herself because the petals were too pretty to let them crumble.

Her locker was supposed to be her happy place. A tiny shrine to all the things that made her feel like herself instead of just another Valentine sister, another face in the lineup, another asset in the brand portfolio.

Right now it just looked like evidence. Evidence of all the soft, fragile things she cared about. All the things Mother could crush without even trying.

The hallway noise washed over her in waves. Laughter from the freshmen clustered by the water fountain. Someone’s phone playing a K-pop song she recognized from her morning playlist. The distant echo of Coach Santos’s whistle from the gymnasium. Normal sounds. Safe sounds. The background music of a life that was supposed to be easy, or at least easier than this.

Harlow grabbed her textbook for sixth period and closed her locker with more force than necessary.

She needed to find Isaiah.

Not because she had anything important to say. Not because she had some brilliant plan to save him from Mother’s office on the forty-first floor with its Italian marble desk and its two-hundred-degree view of Manhattan and its complete absence of mercy. She just needed to see him. To confirm that he was still here, still solid, still the boy who ate her waffles and pinned her handmade heart to the inside of his jacket and looked at her like she was worth looking at.

The problem with being the sunshine sister was that everyone assumed the sunshine was infinite.

Harlow moved through the hallway with the kind of energy that made people step aside without realizing they were doing it. She’d learned that trick years ago, back when she first figured out that a big enough smile could part crowds like Moses and the Red Sea. People wanted to be near happiness. They moved toward it instinctively, and if you radiated enough warmth, they’d clear a path just to stay in your orbit.

It was useful. It was also exhausting. But Harlow had been exhausted since she was fifteen years old and her father closed his eyes in a hospital bed and didn’t open them again, so exhaustion was basically her default state at this point.

She found Isaiah outside the library.

He was leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand, his two-toned hair falling across his forehead in that way that made her want to reach up and brush it back. His uniform looked the same as always, slightly rumpled, tie hanging loose, sleeves pushed up to his elbows like he’d given up on formality somewhere around third period. Dark circles under his eyes. Tension in his jaw. The posture of someone who was holding too many things and pretending the weight didn’t hurt.

Harlow’s heart did something complicated in her chest.

"Isaiah!"

His head turned. His expression shifted from distant to present, from somewhere else to right here, and when his eyes found hers, something in Harlow’s stomach flipped like a pancake on a griddle.

"Harlow." His voice was warm. Tired, but warm. "Shouldn’t you be in class?"

"Free period." She bounced on her toes, closing the distance between them with the kind of energy that probably looked manic to anyone watching. "I was looking for you. I wanted to check. To make sure you’re okay. Because Thursday is coming and Mother is scary and I made you more cookies but they’re in my bag and I didn’t want to bring them because I thought maybe you’d think I was being weird but then I thought maybe cookies would help because cookies always help me when I’m stressed and—"

"Harlow."

"—and I know Sabrina already talked to you because she always knows everything first and Vivienne sent you that document with the color-coded sections and Cassidy probably threatened to commit arson which is honestly just how she shows affection at this point but I wanted to do something too and I didn’t know what to do so I just—"

"Harlow."

She stopped. Breathed. Realized she’d been talking without oxygen for approximately thirty seconds.

Isaiah was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Not annoyed. Not amused. Something softer. Something that made her feel seen in a way that was both wonderful and terrifying.

"I’m fine," he said.

"You’re not fine. Nobody’s fine when they’re about to meet Mother. I’ve been meeting her my whole life and I’m still not fine about it." Harlow reached into her bag and pulled out a small container wrapped in pink tissue paper. "I made you snickerdoodles this time. Different from the macadamia ones. I thought variety might help. With the stress. Or the impending doom. Whichever."

Isaiah took the container from her hands. His fingers brushed hers during the transfer, and the contact sent a spark up her arm that she tried very hard not to think about.

"Thank you," he said. The words sounded like he meant them. Like he wasn’t just being polite or going through the motions or saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

"You didn’t have to do this."