Cole kept following Wuza, trailing her like a worried puppy with a death wish. She walked fast, but he didn't give up—his brain had stopped functioning the moment he saw those tears. She'd gone straight for her dormitory—a female-only room, shared with four other women.
The bathroom she came from was one in a row of bathrooms that was facing another row of bathrooms belonging to Cole and the other boys, that was what connected them in the first place, but beyond that, Cole's heart was sold.
Cole stopped outside the door, heart thudding. He knew he could get in trouble if he entered a female's only room, but he had to comfort Wuza no matter what.
His logic whispered:
You'll get arrested. Or hexed. Or both.
But his heart shouted,
She's crying! Go! Comfort her! Save the day, you idiot!
So he brazed himself preparing to storm in, and hurry to find Wuza.
And so—he barged in.
What followed was nothing short of apocalyptic.
As he entered, a series of screams followed. Women were shrieking to cover up their private parts, as they were completely exposed.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
"COVER UP!!!"
"GET OUT!!"
He had stumbled into a battlefield of exposed womanhood. Towels flew. Pillows became shields. One woman grabbed a boot as a weapon. Another hurled a brush like a dagger.
"Sorry..." Cole screamed as his eyes laid on different body parts, some of which he had never seen in his lifetime.
Cole froze.
His eyes—traitorous bastards—scanned. His brain took mental screenshots. He saw things. Soft things. Curved things. Dangerous things.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was:
"I—I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean—I just—Wuza—!"
He didn't give up, he continued to scan for Wuza Selone until he finally found her.
He spotted her, curled up in her bunk, shoulders trembling. Without thinking, he ducked a flying slipper and sprinted to her side.
Wuza didn't yell. She didn't slap him.
She just sat there, clutching her knees. When Cole finally sat beside her, she didn't even look up.
"I don't know what I did," he said, voice shaking. "I just—I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry…"
And something in that broke her.
She leaned into him. Not with passion. Not with romance. But with the weight of grief. The weight of everything she'd been carrying.
Cole held her.
He didn't speak. He just let her cry. One arm around her shoulder, the other patting her back like he was calming a baby dragon.
Unknown to him, the other women have gone to find instruments with which they would exact their revenge on Cole for barging into their room unannounced, seeing them in that state, and still not giving them a proper compensation.
Then came the reckoning.
A CRACK sounded behind his head.
"OWWWW!"
A wooden broomstick had connected with his skull.
"GET OUT!" screamed Agatha, a woman with breast so big they could send a man into overdrive.
Cole flinched—but didn't let go.
A second thwack from Daphne sent blood trailing down his cheek.
But still… he stayed.
"She's not okay," he murmured. "I can't leave her like this."
The women paused.
Ralia squinted. "Wait… is he still hugging her?"
"Even while bleeding?" Lois added, her voice softening.
"I think he's just stupid," Daphne grumbled.
"No," Agatha said, lowering her broom. "He's heartbroken. That kind of stupid can't be faked."
One by one, they backed away, watching as Wuza sobbed into Cole's now-bloodied chest.
He looked like a man who had taken a beating for love and still didn't know what love actually meant.
And in that ridiculous, awkward, and strangely beautiful moment—for the first time in a long time… Wuza didn't feel alone.
""I think he came for her… he must've done something and came to make amends," Ralia said quietly, folding her arms. Her brow was furrowed—not with judgment, but with concern. "He didn't even flinch while we hit him. That's… something."
Lois, ever the calm one, sighed. "We've had our revenge. Maybe we should just give them space."
The others shared a glance. Even Agatha, the unofficial commander of broomsticks and backhanded comments, shrugged and turned away, mumbling something about "wounded puppies and their sad loyalty."
They stepped back toward their respective bed spaces to get dressed. And for a moment, silence settled in the room—except for Wuza's faint breathing and the occasional drip of blood from Cole's head.
---
Ten minutes later…
Wuza finally stirred, wiping the tears from her face. Her senses returned one by one. Her nose caught the faint iron scent in the air. Her cheek, once resting softly, now felt a bit damp. She looked down—
Blood.
Her eyes widened as she realized it wasn't hers.
She turned—and gasped. "Cole…?"
He sat slumped beside her, head slightly tilted, blood trickling from the back of his scalp. His eyes were half-lidded, but he smiled like someone who had just survived a dragon attack and found peace in the flames.
"Cole, you're bleeding!" she shouted, sitting upright and now noticing the scarlet smudge on her blanket.
In a flash, she stood. Rage replaced sorrow.
She looked around—and saw the girls returning, dressed now, quiet, and acting like nothing happened.
"You idiots—seriously?! You broke his head open!" Wuza snapped, pointing to the bloodied spot where Cole still sat, dazed but loyal.
"Did he rape one of you or something?! No? Then what the hell was that beating for?!"
The women paused. Lois raised both hands in defense.
"Whoa—look, Wuza, we're sorry. But in our defense, he barged in here. This isn't a private suite. This is a shared room. We were butt-naked, and he came in like some panicked knight out of a fairy tale. That's not okay."
Wuza gritted her teeth but didn't respond yet. She waited, trying to calm herself.
But then—Agatha stepped forward, arms crossed, voice cold.
"What do you mean by rape?" she asked flatly. "You think throwing that word around makes your argument stronger? Or are you just trying to earn pity points because the guy you like bled a little?"
Wuza's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't push me, Agatha."
"Oh please," Agatha scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Apart from your exaggerated trauma, is there anything special about you?"
That did it.
Wuza didn't flinch. "Apart from your oversized apples, is there anything else in that empty chest of yours?"
Lois stepped between them instantly. "Enough!"
"You want round two?" Agatha growled, stepping forward, her hands curling into fists.
"Bring it on... you empty buffoon" Wuza said, equally calm and fierce. "I want to show you jut how nasty, crazy is... I've seen soldiers burn villages with less pettiness than this your stupid ass crack."
Cole groaned softly behind her.
The room fell silent.
The tension hung for a second longer—then Ralia sighed and stepped toward Cole, pulling a strip of clean cloth from her tunic, with a healing potion. "Let's just patch him up, okay?"
Agatha scowled, anger was visibly showing in her eyes, however, her mind was begging her not to test Wuza, so she said nothing more.
Lois rubbed her temples. "And let's agree… next time, no man is allowed to just barge in here alright?!... And the next time something like this happens, we won't mind unleashing our broomsticks like war hammers."
Wuza gently helped Cole lie down, brushing hair from his forehead as she applied the healing potion.
He smiled faintly. "So… we're cool now?"
Wuza rolled her eyes. "You're concussed. Don't ruin the moment."