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The city hadn't stopped spinning since Adelaide's Instagram post dropped.
One carefully lit photo of her hand in Monet's. The Kingsley crest visible in the background. A caption that read:
"For the girl who defended my honor when others tried to tarnish it. Monet De Haan is my girlfriend. Let that be the headline."
The fallout was immediate and seismic.
Public opinion turned overnight. Gossip Girl didn't even try to twist it—she just dropped it raw.
"XOXO: Looks like Queen A is done hiding her kingdom. And Monet? Still wearing the crown, bruised knuckles and all."
The post went viral. Think pieces rolled in. Hashtags trended. Monet trended.
But behind the screens and headlines, something quieter—more fragile—was taking root.
It started the day after the announcement.
They met in the courtyard of Monet's family estate, beneath a sycamore tree older than most of New York. The air between them still buzzed with unspoken things—anger, forgiveness, longing.
Monet waited by the stone bench, leather-bound journal clutched in one hand, trying not to look like she was unraveling.
Adelaide arrived in silence, hair braided back tight, wearing no makeup and oversized sunglasses that still couldn't hide the shadows under her eyes.
"I made an appointment," Adelaide said, sitting next to her but not touching. "For therapy. I found someone private. LGBTQ-friendly. Couples work."
Monet's breath hitched slightly.
"I'll go," she said, voice low. "If you're in, I'm in."
Adelaide looked over at her. "We've hurt each other, Monet."
Monet nodded. "I know."
Adelaide stared ahead again. "I said things I didn't mean. But I meant it when I walked away."
"I know," Monet whispered. "And I meant it when I fucked up everything. I just didn't know how to... do this. Us. Not when I felt like you hated me."
"I didn't hate you," Adelaide said. "I loved you. That was the problem."
Monet's eyes widened.
Adelaide looked down at her hands, folded too neatly in her lap.
"You made me feel seen. And when I started to fall, I panicked. I pushed you away because I didn't know if I was real to you. Or if I was just another win for you."
Monet reached over then—slowly, carefully—and laced her fingers with Adelaide's.
"You were never a game."
"I need to hear that more than once."
"You will," Monet said. "I'll say it every day until you believe me."
