Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 191: We don’t have to talk about it

The kiss was warm and feather-light, nothing like the dramatic declarations in romance novels but infinitely more magical. It tasted of trust and sunlight, of quiet promises and shared secrets. My eyes fluttered shut. I kissed her back, letting the world fall away.

When I finally opened my eyes, Velka was right there, inches away, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted in a soft, almost comical surprise. There was a silence a big, world-changing silence where neither of us seemed to breathe, and even the air in the dormitory tiptoed to the windowsill, wary of intruding.

Then Velka coughed. "Um."

I swallowed. "Um."

We stared at each other, as if we’d just sprouted wings or horns or possibly an extra head. Velka’s hand was still in mine, her palm a little clammy. I was suddenly, deeply aware of the ridiculous pink unicorn on my bedsheet and the fact that my hair was sticking up in about seven directions. So much for an elegant moment. The great future tyrant, conquered by static electricity and pre-teen awkwardness.

"I, uh…" Velka started, then stopped, biting her lip in a way that managed to be both fierce and uncertain.

I scrambled for words, but they scattered like startled pixies. What did you say after a kiss like that? Was there a rulebook for magical girls in magical schools dealing with magical first kisses after a week of emotional chaos and betrayal? If so, I’d missed that lesson probably while plotting to overthrow someone’s herbology exam.

"We don’t have to talk about it," Velka said finally, staring very intently at the crack in the ceiling. Her voice was so small it was nearly lost under the hum of spells in the walls. "If you don’t want to."

Part of me wanted to laugh, another part wanted to cry, and a third, infinitely braver part wanted to lean in again and never let go. But mostly, I felt like I’d fallen out of my own story, the one where I always had the next step figured out.

"It was nice," I blurted, immediately wishing I could dissolve into the bedsheets. "I mean not just nice, but… really, really nice." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Her lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. "I think so too."

We sat in silence, side by side on my bed, as the world crept cautiously back in. Someone was laughing two dorm rooms away. Somewhere in the hallway, Riven was probably bribing a house-elf with cheese. Down in the school courtyard, a flock of enchanted origami swans staged a tiny rebellion against their instructor, who’d foolishly scheduled a pop quiz. All of it kept turning, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Except everything had.

I risked a glance at Velka. She was still staring at the ceiling, her expression unreadable her usual armor of sarcasm and bravado replaced by something open and almost… gentle. It occurred to me, not for the first time, how much I’d come to rely on her. Not just for help in magical duels or sneaking into the library after hours, but for moments like this: small, impossible, precious.

"So," I said finally, in what I hoped was a casual voice, "does this make you my evil sidekick now, or am I yours?"

Velka blinked, then snorted. "Neither. We’re partners in crime. Equal opportunity menaces to society."

"Oh, good," I replied, grinning despite myself. "I was worried I’d have to get you a minion uniform."

She rolled her eyes, but there was real laughter in it now, a lightness that made my chest loosen. "Only if it’s black. With silver trim. And dramatic shoulder pads."

I pretended to ponder. "And a cape?"

She considered, deadly serious. "Only if it comes with a matching mask. I have standards, Elyzara."

"You always do," I said quietly, the joke dissolving into something softer. "That’s why I—"

But I never finished the sentence, because just then, a shrill bell rang through the school, signaling the start of class. The sound echoed off the stone walls, bouncing from one enchanted window to the next, accompanied by a faint voice probably our exasperated headmistress shouting, "Detention for anyone late! And that includes you, Riven!"

Velka groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed. "If I die in herbology, promise me you’ll avenge me."

I grinned. "Of course. I’ll feed our least favorite teacher to the carnivorous plants in your honor."

She grinned back, but her gaze lingered, searching my face for… what? Reassurance? Understanding? I squeezed her hand, gentle but sure.

"We’ll talk later?" I offered, suddenly shy.

"Yeah," she said, voice steadying. "We’ll talk later."

With a last squeeze, we scrambled to gather our things, both of us pointedly ignoring the way our hands kept brushing and how I couldn’t stop smiling. In the end, Velka beat me to the door, her cloak fluttering dramatically behind her. She turned, her face shadowed for a moment, and I wondered if maybe just maybe she was as nervous as I was.

"Don’t get caught daydreaming," she said softly. "Or you’ll end up with double homework."

"Tragic," I replied. "But worth it."

With a little wave, she disappeared down the hall, and I found myself alone, the memory of her kiss buzzing in my skin like a secret spell. I took a deep breath and tried to gather my scattered wits. There were bigger things to worry about Aria’s betrayal, the growing tension among the students, the mysterious network pulling strings in the shadow but for just a moment, I let myself savor the victory of that unexpected, magical kiss.

I threw on my robe and headed to class, the corridor crowded with a tide of chattering students. Their voices swirled around me, a flurry of gossip and laughter and the underlying current of uncertainty that had settled over the school like an unwelcome fog.

"Did you hear about the duel in the library last night?"

"Someone said Aria’s joined the Shadow Syndicate whatever that is."

"I heard Elyzara’s planning to take over herbology class and declare herself queen."

It was, all in all, a perfectly ordinary day at Arcanum Academy for the Magically Inclined and Socially Inept.

I slid into my seat just as the professor swept in, robes billowing, hair hovering three inches above his scalp (a side effect of last term’s experiment gone awry). He fixed me with a look that suggested he was still holding a grudge about the frog incident, and I gave him my brightest, most innocent smile.

"Miss Elyzara," he intoned, "late again. Perhaps you’d like to enlighten the class with your thoughts on the strategic application of mandrake root in royal politics?"

I blinked. "Well, sir, if you stuff enough mandrake in the council chamber, no one will be able to hear the opposition’s arguments over the screaming."

There was a pause, then a ripple of laughter. The professor rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his mouth despite himself. "Five points for creativity. And another five off for insubordination. As usual."

I grinned and slouched into my seat, letting the familiar rhythm of lessons and banter lull me into a strange, fragile calm. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Velka’s gaze from across the room. She raised an eyebrow, the hint of a dare in her smile.

It struck me then how strange and beautiful this world was, how sharp its pains and how dazzling its joys. I hadn’t chosen to be here, to transmigrate into a kingdom balancing on the edge of revolt, to carry the weight of destinies and betrayals. But I was here. And maybe, just maybe, I could make it my own.

As class dragged on, I let my mind wander back to the dormitory, to the touch of Velka’s hand, to the soft hush after our kiss. I wondered what would come next. Whether I’d ever feel ready for the choices ahead. Whether trust was something that could be built again, slowly, painfully, after being shattered.

A tap at my shoulder jolted me from my thoughts. Riven, ever the agent of chaos, passed me a folded note sloppily written in glittery ink.

"Meet us in the courtyard at lunch. Mara has a plan. Velka is bringing snacks. Don’t be late, or she’ll eat them all."

I snorted and scribbled back, "Only if Mara promises not to start another food fight."

Riven grinned, victorious, and the rest of the lesson slipped by in a haze of potion ingredients and whispered jokes.

By the time the lunch bell rang, I felt almost like myself again or at least a version of myself who might, one day, figure out how to be both a leader and a friend.

In the sunlit courtyard, I found my friends gathered under a blossoming tree Mara, fierce and animated as always, gesticulating wildly as she outlined her latest scheme; Elira, rolling her eyes but following every word; Riven, already halfway through a suspiciously large sandwich; and Velka, sitting quietly at the edge, her eyes lighting up when she saw me.