Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 194: What are we ?

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed my hand. "So…what are we, exactly? After…everything?"

For a long moment, I couldn't answer. The rally's echoes still rang in my ears shouts, laughter, a last squelch of jam underfoot. The night air was thick with the scent of trampled grass, burnt sugar, and revolution. But Velka's hand was warm in mine, and her question didn't feel like one I could answer in front of half the academy, even if most of them were still distracted by Mara's epic attempt to ride a flying tart out the window.

I glanced at Velka, met her eyes, and squeezed her fingers back. "Come with me," I said, voice low, the urgency of truth making me bolder than usual.

She followed without another word, slipping away from the leftover chaos. We weaved through the shadows and the hush of half-lit corridors, past the portrait of Comrade Petronilla (who was too busy plotting a "midnight cheese strike" to notice us), up the spiral stairs, and finally finally out onto the north rooftop garden.

It was one of the only places in the academy that was truly private. Above us, the enchanted glass dome showed a tapestry of stars undimmed by city light, and a faint shimmer of magical barrier kept the spring air pleasant but the world at bay. The garden itself was wild, untamed: blue bellflowers that hummed softly, a lone apple tree whose blossoms glowed faintly, a pond where tiny koi swam in lazy figure-eights. It smelled of grass, hope, and old secrets.

We sat on a low stone bench, shoulders almost touching.

For a while, neither of us spoke. We just let ourselves breathe, away from the noise and eyes and endless, unspoken questions.

I was the one who broke the silence, my voice small and earnest. "You asked what we are. I…don't know. I don't think I've ever known, not really. "

She snorted a soft, bitter sound. "Great. So we're two confused girls, saving the kingdom one awkward conversation at a time?"

I let out a laugh, surprised at how much lighter it felt. "I suppose we are. But that doesn't mean I don't want to figure it out."

She looked at me, her expression fierce and vulnerable all at once. "Elyzara, I'm not interested in being 'just friends with benefits.' Or whatever it is students are calling it these days. I want more. I want you. Not just for stolen kisses in the hallway or to help you survive potions class. I want to matter. To you."

That hit me harder than any magical duel or system lecture. The truth of it settled somewhere deep in my chest a small, bright ache.

I nodded slowly. "I know. I'm just…afraid. Of messing this up. Of messing you up. Of not being enough for you, or being too much, or…"

She put a hand on my knee, gently but firmly. "You're not too much. If anything, you're exactly the right amount of chaos. You drive me insane. You make me want to yell and laugh and…kiss you until we both forget why we're scared."

I shivered just a little. "Does that mean you forgive me? For not knowing what I want?"

Velka was silent for a beat, then nodded. "I can forgive you not knowing. I can even forgive you being scared. But I need to know you're not going to run away the second things get difficult. That we're actually trying, Elyzara not just hiding behind jokes or world-saving."

I hesitated, then reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. "I promise. I don't want to hide anymore. I want to try really try. With you."

She squeezed my hand, relief and longing mingling in her eyes. "Good. Because I don't want to be your secret, Elyzara. I want to be your…your person."

For a second, the air shimmered with something almost magical hope, perhaps, or just the reckless possibility of real love. I leaned closer, heart pounding, and this time she didn't wait; she kissed me softly, deliberately, her fingers twining in my hair.

The world went very quiet and very bright.

There were no fireworks, no swooping strings just the gentle press of lips, the certainty of her arms around me, the feeling of being seen, wholly and without judgment. I'd read a thousand books about love, a hundred stories where the first kiss solved everything. This wasn't like that at all. It was better, because it was honest and raw and awkward and brave.

When we broke apart, I laughed quietly, breathless. "Does this mean we're…together?"

She grinned, cheeks flushed. "I'd say so. Unless you want to debate it some more. I'm sure the garden gnomes would love a ringside seat."

A pause. The garden gnome, to its credit, did not blink.

I let my forehead rest against hers, all my fears softening. "You really don't want to be just friends with benefits, do you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Elyzara, the only benefits I want are exclusive. And possibly unlimited access to your library card."

"Noted," I said, and we both started giggling quietly, so as not to wake the flowers.

We sat there for a while, cocooned in the safe hush of the rooftop, our hands intertwined. Sometimes the best magic was this: not a spell or a prophecy, but the space between two people who refused to give up on each other.

It wasn't perfect. I still had doubts, still worried that the world would pull us apart or that I'd let my fears get the better of me. But Velka was right I didn't want to run anymore.

"I'm sorry I've been so confusing," I whispered. "I think I was waiting for things to make sense before I let myself be happy."

She smiled softly, brushing her thumb across my knuckles. "Nothing ever makes sense here, Elyzara. But that's half the fun."

There was a distant clatter probably Mara crashing through a window in pursuit of a rogue cupcake but up here, nothing could touch us. We watched the stars wheel overhead, each one a reminder that some things shine brightest in the dark.

Finally, Velka said, "We'll need to tell the others. At least Riven. He'll explode with gossip if we don't."

I groaned. "He'll make up a song. Or worse, a limerick."

She grinned. "Maybe it'll be a good one."

I shook my head. "There are no good limericks, Velka. Only disasters waiting to rhyme."

She laughed, and it felt like something old and painful unspooling in my chest. "Well, at least we'll have each other."