The Skywalker Problem

Her mom died of an overdose when Rey was ten, leaving behind nothing but a string of foster homes and a box of junk that smelled like cheap vanilla and ghosts. Then, buried under old receipts and half-burnt photos, Rey finds something that changes everything — pictures of her mother with a man named Luke Skywalker, a wealthy professor whose life looks safe, solid, and untouchable.

Convinced he might be her father, Rey sets out to meet him, but when the truth doesn’t fit the fairytale, she lies. Just enough to stay.

Now she’s part of Luke’s glittering world — and stuck in the orbit of his nephew, Ben Solo: brilliant, arrogant, infuriatingly magnetic. The attraction hits fast and hard, and it’s wrong in every possible way. Because as far as Ben knows, she’s his cousin.

Rey’s lie was supposed to give her a family.
Instead, it gave her him.

Chapter Text

Somehow, the trailer still smelled faintly of her mother’s vanilla body spray—cheap, cloying, stubborn as memory. Rey used to love it. Now it just reminded her of things that didn’t stay.

She hadn’t been back in years. The place was caving in on itself: damp spots on the ceiling, wallpaper peeling like sunburn, a raccoon that had apparently declared the porch its kingdom.

Her new apartment wasn’t much, but at least the pipes didn’t wheeze when she showered and the floor didn’t tilt when she walked. “Nice-ish,” she called it—translation: four walls, a lock, and no visible mold.

The couch still sagged the same way it had the night her mother promised they’d watch Mulan together. Ten years old, a microwaved bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees, waiting for the sound of the door. It never came. Only the sirens did.

She’d stopped counting foster homes after twelve.
Stopped hoping after thirteen.
Started fixing things instead.

By twenty-two, she could rebuild a carburetor, fake a smile at a 7-Eleven counter, and vanish into cigarette smoke on her break behind the dumpsters—three skills that kept the lights on. Barely.

Rey wasn’t proud of the weed she sold to the regulars at the garage, or the lies she told on job applications. But pride didn’t pay rent.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and studied herself in the cracked mirror above the sink. Pretty, she supposed. Chestnut hair, eyes that looked brown indoors but caught light like amber in the sun. A scatter of freckles she used to detest and a few moles she’d decided were better left alone than replaced with scars. A T-shirt from a band she’d never listened to. She looked like every other girl who’d ever been told you’re better than this by someone who’d never been here.

Then the photos changed everything.

The old tenants who’d taken over her mother’s trailer had called one evening after work, saying they’d found something tucked beneath the floorboards of the makeshift closet in her mom’s old bedroom. Rey had almost ignored it—another day, another ghost—but something in the woman’s voice, or maybe just something restless in her, made her go.

A beat-up manila envelope, buried beneath a pile of her mother’s old things—a box she’d opened half expecting her mothers old stash and instead found snapshots. Her mother, younger, alive, laughing. A man beside her with sandy hair and the kind of smile that looked permanent. Luke Skywalker, Department of Mathematics, Class of ’03.

They were smiling in most of them. In a few, her mother kissed him on the cheek—an obvious couple. Obvious.

Rey stared at the photos for a long time, thumb brushing the edges worn soft with age. She’d never known her father. Her mother had always dodged the question with a shrug and a tired smile—he’s out of the picture anyway, sugar, just us girls. And maybe when Rey was little that had felt like enough. Just the two of them against the world.

But it hadn’t lasted. Nothing ever did.

So when she looked at the man in those photos—Luke, with his gentle grin and clean eyes—something sharp twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to want it, but there it was. The ache of maybe.

The name hooked her. She googled him that night.
Professor turned philanthropist. Lectures on chaos theory, awards, endowments, smiling beside students in tweed and sunshine. A man whose life looked safe.

The address on the back sealed the deal. He was real. He lived close—considerably close—and oh so fucking rich.

She sat on the edge of her narrow bed, phone in one hand, photo in the other. “You actually might be my dad,” she murmured, half a laugh, half a prayer.

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was desperate. But Rey had done stupid and desperate before—usually in the same day.

She closed the second-hand laptop and stared at the ceiling.
If he was her father, maybe the universe owed her one good twist.

Tomorrow, she decided, she’d find out.

⸻

“So, you’re actually gonna go to him? Like, today?” Rose asked, leaning over the hood as Rey swore at the Dodge that refused to start for the third time this week.

Rey blew a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah. Maybe. Depends if this piece of shit decides to cooperate.”

Rose squinted down at her, hands shoved into her scrubs pockets—the light-blue kind that always looked one wash away from giving up. She’d just come from the clinic, the local diagnostics place that did everything from strep tests to DNA paternity results.

They’d met two years back, the night Rey showed up in the ER with burns on her palm after a carburetor backfired in her face. She’d been half-drunk, half-stupid, and fully convinced she could fix an engine and drink through the process. Rose had been the nurse on duty, calm and patient even while Rey was slurring apologies and smelling like gasoline.

Rey never forgot that. And Rose never quite managed to shake her off afterward.

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Rey slammed the hood shut. “If he turns out to be a serial killer, at least you’ll get to say I told you so at my funeral.”

Rose groaned. “What are you even gonna say to him? ‘Hey, Mr. Solo—’”

“He’s a Skywalker,” Rey corrected, wiping her hands on a rag. “His sister—my possible aunt, maybe—her last name is Solo.”

“Right. Okay. So what then? ‘Hey, Mr. Skywalker, sir, I think I might be your long-lost daughter?’”

Rey shrugged. “Sure. I’ll improvise. You know I’m great at awkward encounters.”

Rose raised a brow. “And if he thinks you’re crazy?”

“Then I’ll flash my best smile and tell him my best friend works at a diagnostics clinic and we can do a very quick little father-daughter DNA field trip over lunch.” Rey nudged her playfully. “If he calls security, we’ll just call it… a character-building experience.”

“Rey,” Rose said softly, a hint of concern in her voice, “this is serious.”

“I am serious.” Rey took a bite of her sandwich, speaking around it. “Look, I don’t know, okay? It’ll come to me when I see him.”

Rose sighed. “That sounds so bad.”

Rey grinned, mouth full. “Story of my life, Tico.”

⸻

As she waited for the train, Rey huffed and sighed, smoke curling from the cigarette between her fingers. She’d never known her father. And after the funeral, the first person the system had tried to reach was her last remaining relative—her grandfather.

Sweet ten-year-old Rey had actually stopped crying for half a day when the social worker said they’d found him. She hadn’t met her “grandpa,” not yet anyway, but the background check—multiple arrests, a reputation for violence—killed that hope faster than a pigeon on a power line. Probably for the best, judging by how her mother used to flinch anytime Rey asked about him.

There’d been a moment of reflection around sixteen, that age where you start wanting to understand the people who broke you. Her grandfather, she’d learned, was an abusive bastard who used to beat on her grandmother even while the woman was dying of cancer. She didn’t survive. Her mother had run like hell, scholarship in mathematics clutched in one hand and nothing but fear in the other—only to end up building a whole new kind of nightmare for herself and her daughter.

Her mouth felt weird now. Cottony.
She’d never smoked weed herself—only sold it, on occasion. She’d never touched anything stronger than nicotine; didn’t dare to. But genes had a funny way of repeating their favorite tragedies. If it wasn’t drugs, it was the other devil—alcohol.

The first time had been on her seventeenth birthday. A few miniature whiskey bottles swiped from the kitchen counter. Her foster mother—an old drunk with a temper and a belt—caught her mid-swig and shrieked she’d send her right back to the system. Rey had laughed in her face, drunk and stupid and so sick of being scared.

After that, it became habit.
Two cheap beers after night school, one shot of something stronger to finish her off. She said it helped her sleep. Some nights it did. Most nights it just softened the edges enough to make existing bearable.

She snorted to herself, remembering the pitying look on the counselor’s face when she barely scraped her GED. She wasn’t dumb—hell, she’d been very good at math, even got a scholarship when the idea of going to college was alive and kicking. She still was good at it, when her head wasn’t pounding. But try studying twelve hours a day while working thirteen behind the counter of a minimart that smelled like burnt coffee and disappointment. Sometimes you needed something to quiet the noise.

She hated that she understood her mother more now than she ever wanted to.
That scared her most.

Still, she’d stopped.
A week and a half, give or take—the longest stretch in years. Ever since she’d found those photographs, the bottle had started to look less like comfort and more like a warning. She wanted to meet this man, Luke Skywalker, without reeking of failure. Without shaking.

She wanted to be someone when she saw him.

What the fuck was she gonna say?
No, really—what the fuck was she gonna say? She’d been sarcastic with Rose, same as always, but now? Now the sarcasm was gone, her chest was caving in, palms slick with sweat.

“He’s just finishing up. Maybe you’ll be able to catch him?” said the plump red-haired woman at the front desk, voice bright as a bell.

“Uh… yeah, okay. Thanks.” Rey’s voice cracked halfway through. She swallowed, probably too loud, and hitched her shabby tote higher on her shoulder. “The other side of—”

“Mathematics department,” the woman supplied, smiling. “Big white doors. Can’t miss ’em.”

“O-okay. Yeah.”

Rey turned and half-walked, half-ran down the wide hallway, the old wood echoing under her boots. The building was huge. Massive. Enormous. That’s just another synonym, dummy, she scolded herself.

She felt like a fish tossed on marble floors, stupidly blinking at everything—the tall ceilings, the smell of paper and polish, the quiet hum of air-conditioning that probably cost more than her rent. Even breathing here felt expensive.

One more staircase to go and—bam.

A fucking… what was that? A wall? No, not that hard. A column?

“Christ! I am so sorry, here—”

A man’s voice. Deep, steady, masculine enough to make her brain short-circuit for a second.

“Oh—shit, sorry, I’m fine, sorry,” Rey stammered, dropping to her knees as her tote spilled open across the polished floor. The stupid mints she’d bought to curb her nicotine cravings scattered like confetti.

“Fuck… sorry…” she muttered, scrambling after them as if they were loose change. Great job, Rey. Way to make an impression.

“I—” Her words died the second she looked up.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Eyes like they’d been carved to make women’s lives harder. Fuck, he was hot.

“Here, let me—” He didn’t even finish before he reached down and hauled her up with one easy pull.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Sure.” He stood straighter, and she followed, brushing off her jeans. Jesus, he’s tall.

“Wasn’t looking where I was going,” she added quickly. “I should’ve paid attention.”

He shook his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I was reading drafts on my phone—half my brain’s still on the models we’re running.”

She blinked. “Models?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Applied math. Structural dynamics, mostly. I teach part-time.”

Rey tilted her head, trying to fish something half-remembered out of her brain. “So… like, making sure a bridge doesn’t fall down when people walk on it?”

He gave a small laugh—automatic, not cruel, but still edged with that quiet academic arrogance. “That’s… one way to put it.”

“Right,” she said, unbothered. “Or when the weight distribution gets thrown off, and the pressure points start shifting. Stress accumulation. The whole thing bends before it breaks.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, the smile faltering. “Yes. Actually… that’s correct.”

Rey smirked as she shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

She didn’t care for arrogant pricks. Not that she’d spent a lot of time around them, but she could spot one fast. Even back when she’d turned eighteen and landed the same math scholarship her mom once had—made it all of two months in college—she’d had a few very short, very unsweet encounters with guys who carried that same I know better glint this one almost had.

He was hot, yeah. But she wasn’t having that.
Not today, anyway.

Rey nodded toward him. “Anyways—you know where Skywalker is?” she asked briskly. Her time was running out, and the longer she stood here, the more she felt like she didn’t belong.

“Sky— I… yes. Yeah, I do.” He nodded, a little dumbly.

Rey arched a brow. “Wanna show me where he’s at?”

For half a second, she almost smirked. The look on his face was worth it—like he wasn’t used to people like her talking that casually to people like him.

He nodded again. Rey caught the way the tops of his ears flushed red beneath all that dark hair and couldn’t help the flicker of a smirk.

“So… are you a student of his or—”

“Nah,” she cut in, still glancing around. God, this place was nice. Way nicer than that college she’d tried and failed to survive. Definitely nicer than night school.

“Ah. Well, how are you acquainted with—”

“None of your business, really.”

She turned, winked. He froze for half a second, eyes wide, posture stiff. Looked away. Rey had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Hey, relax,” she said lightly. “I’m just teasing. I wanna meet the guy, okay? I’ve got… a mutual friend situation. Sort of.”

The guy nodded, like he couldn’t decide whether to end the conversation or keep it going.

Rey bit her lower lip. Fuck, I didn’t even introduce myself… well, fuck, neither did he.

“I—I’m Rey, by the way. Sorry if I come off a bit—” She made a vague gesture, some kind of wild punch-in-a-circle motion that, if translated, probably meant this entire personality.

He blinked, a faint smile ghosting across his mouth. Wow, he’s got a lot of beauty marks, this one.

“That’s fine… Rey. I’m—”

“Ben! Come and meet Professor Sores! She just flew in from Barcelona!”

Rey froze. Luke.

Luke Skywalker, in the flesh. The man she’d spent a week reading about, googling like a creep, stalking through grainy faculty photos — standing not two feet away.

“Oh! My apologies, Miss—?” he said kindly, turning toward her.

Rey’s lips parted. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. Everything around her — Ben, the hallway, time itself — seemed to stutter.

“I’m…” she started, voice barely hers.
Then, before she could stop it:

“I’m your daughter.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

“I’m your daughter.”

The words kept looping back through her head like a scratched record—tinny, awful, impossible to stop. Idiot. Absolute idiot. He was probably going to call security, just like she’d joked with Rose. Hell, she would, if she were in his shoes. What the hell was she—

She’d stared back at Luke, almost unblinking but trembling. The man—poor man—had only parted his lips in soft, obvious shock, a faint hint of worry pulling at his expression.

Was he feeling sorry for her? Was he afraid of her? Did he think she was crazy—was she?

“What on earth did you just say?”

The man—Ben, right, Ben—his voice cut through like a blade.

There was bewilderment in it, sure, maybe even a touch of concern, but mostly… anger. Fury, even. The fuck was his problem?

Rey barely shifted her gaze toward him. His dark eyes locked on hers, sharp and unrelenting, lips parted but with the faintest sneer pulling at one corner.

She didn’t like that. Not one bit.

Rey swallowed, palms slick. She turned her eyes back to Luke’s. “I—fuck—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just—”

“Did you just say… daughter? What the fuck?”

Her jaw tightened. Something in the dark-haired one’s tone—it wasn’t disbelief so much as the flicker of an accusation forming—made irritation spark in her chest.

Rose always used to tease her about that—said Rey had “emotional intelligence off the charts.” High empathy, great instincts. Could read a room from the way someone’s tone shifted, the way their eyes moved.

It felt like that now.

It felt like the whole hallway had been soaked in gasoline, and her fingers wouldn’t stop twitching against her thigh—she could practically hear the match being struck.

She was gonna lose it—right here, right now.

Every muscle in her body was screaming to move. To bolt. Just like she used to when she was a kid—when the yelling started, when a hand twitched and she had half a second to guess if it meant run or duck.

Old instincts, old wiring. The kind that didn’t care that she was twenty-two now or that this wasn’t one of those houses. Her brain couldn’t tell the difference.

She clenched her fists, eyes shut for half a breath. Her heart was hammering so loud it was a miracle the men on either side of her couldn’t hear it.

“I—”

“Ben. Give us a moment.”

Luke’s voice was calm, too calm, the kind of calm that cut through panic like cool water. Rey’s eyes flew open as he gestured toward a nearby classroom.

“Professor Sores, Ben would love to speak with you about his issues with… the Navier–Stokes equation.”

“Wha—? I haven’t got issues with it! I’m not going—” Ben started, bristling like a kid caught skipping class.

“Ben, please.”

Luke tilted his head toward Rey, patient but firm.

Ben huffed, his jaw working, eyes flicking to Rey—long, unreadable, maybe even a little angry—before he turned on his heel and guided the visiting professor out.

The last few students trickled out. The door shut. Silence.

Rey still couldn’t breathe.

“So,” Luke said finally, easing himself onto the edge of a desk. His voice was softer now, but steady. “Would you like to start?”

Rey gripped the front of her blouse, the soft cotton worn thin under her fingers. Her hands wouldn’t stay still.

“…My mother,” she started, her voice small but scraping out of her anyway. “Mira.”

The name landed between them, fragile and heavy all at once.

“You knew her back in university,” Rey went on, words tumbling out now, uneven. “She—she was in the same course. Mathematics. I found photos of you two together.”

Luke’s lips parted—surprise, astonishment, something like sadness flickering across his face in quick succession.

“Of course,” he said softly. “Of course I knew her. We… we were together during the beginning of the university year.”

Rey felt something tug deep in her chest. It’s possible. It’s not just a hunch. He really could be—

“We broke up before the end of that first year.” Luke continued, licking his lips, eyes dropping to his hands. “It got complicated, but I—I tried to find her afterward. She left the program abruptly after, no forwarding address… I just lost contact.”

He looked back up, voice breaking slightly. “I can’t believe this. Is she— is Mira here? Did she come with you?”

Rey’s heart clenched again, that faint hum of pain that never really went away no matter how many years passed.

“She… she passed away.”

Luke’s face crumpled for a second—brows drawn, lips parting like he’d been punched somewhere deep. For a heartbeat, he looked more hurt than she felt.

“I… when?”

“A while ago,” Rey said quietly. “I was ten.”

She swallowed hard, the rest of it pressing against her throat. In due time I’ll tell him the full truth, she told herself. Maybe.

Luke looked at her, his blue eyes glassy now. “She… I am so sorry. I never—” He stopped, biting his lower lip, and something shifted behind his expression. “Wait… you—you think I’m—”

Rey nodded quickly, almost defensively. “She never mentioned who my dad was. And—don’t think I’m some kind of creep, but the math fits, right?”

Luke blinked, eyes still misty. “I… well, yes. I mean, it could be possible.”

Rey nodded, a faint, shaky smile tugging at her lips. “Listen, I—I’m sorry I blurted it out like that. I just… the second I saw you, it kind of came out.”

He let out a quiet laugh — not mocking, just stunned — rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to steady himself.

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like,” he said softly. “You showing up here after all this time, thinking—”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Rey cut in, a little too fast. “That’s sort of my problem. I’m a problem.”

The self-dig slipped out before she could stop it, and she winced; it was a reflex she’d trained too well.

Luke’s expression flickered—first a frown, then something gentler. “Don’t say that,” he said quietly. “You are not a problem.”

Rey could almost cry. Almost.

Luke pushed off the desk, fingers raking through his greying hair. “I… goodness, I didn’t even— You’re…?”

“Oh. Fuck—” she stopped herself, grimacing. Don’t swear at your potential father, dumbass.
“I’m Rey. With an E.”

Luke’s smile reached his eyes this time, the corners crinkling. “It’s very nice to meet you, Rey with an E.”

He took her hand, a steady, warm grip. “I think we both need to sit down and really talk. Please.”

He gestured toward the door at the back of the classroom. Rey only nodded and followed, that strange ache of hope blooming in her chest.

⸻

The restaurant he’d picked was nice. Way too nice. Rey felt both wildly out of place and weirdly triumphant—like she wanted to wave her menu at the well-dressed matrons nearby just to prove she belonged.

“Thanks,” she murmured to the waiter as he topped off her glass. Water. She wasn’t about to humiliate herself in front of Luke.

“Mira and I started dating at the beginning of the school year,” Luke said after the waiter left. He smiled faintly into his glass before taking a sip. “She was… an amazing woman. I regret not trying harder to find her after.”

“Why didn’t you?” Rey asked, cutting into the meat. God, this steak was glorious.

“I was going through a very difficult time,” he said quietly. He hesitated, then: “I had just come out to my family.”

The steak caught in her throat. She coughed hard, eyes watering.

“Rey! You okay?” Luke reached over, gently patting her back.

“Shit—sorry—yes!” she wheezed. “Fucking—sorry! Oh God, I didn’t mean to—sorry—”

Luke laughed softly. “No, no, it’s all right. I usually get that reaction.”

Her brain spun. So he’s gay? Then what—why say he and Mom dated? Was Mira his… cover?

As if reading her mind, Luke added quickly, “Rey, Mira and I—we were definitely…” He waved a hand vaguely, thought better of it. “Together. She was a beautiful woman. And yes, I was confused by my sexuality then, but she was so kind, so understanding. She’s the only woman I’ve ever been-”

Rey raised a hand, fork still between her fingers. “Got it. Got it. So… still the chance we’re related is there?”

His smile turned sad but hopeful. “Yes, of course. I just don’t understand why Mira would have kept this from me. She left so abruptly.”

Rey swallowed. Probably because the drugs started getting the better of her mother, she thought. When the demons she’d been carrying from her own past finally came crawling out.

“And my father had just… denounced me,” Luke went on, the last part almost muttered to himself.

Rey’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yes, it was a whole thing,” Luke said with a dry laugh. “We got… better. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you. And the possibility that I’m your father.”

Rey nodded, sipping her water. “I just—I don’t want you to think I’m using you or something. I just… really wanna know, you know?”

Luke nodded, kind and understanding.

(God, please, she thought faintly. Gimme this. You owe me…)

“Of course I understand,” he said. “I do too. I never imagined having kids of my own. Not that I was opposed, but with my orientation and… just the times, the people around me, I felt the pressure to keep it mostly under wraps.”

Rey nodded, catching the somber note in his voice.

“I regret that,” he added softly. “Not living my most authentic self.”

He looked at her, eyes gentle. “Rey. Whatever the test shows…” He didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to.

Whatever it showed—what? That he’d want to know her? That she’d have a place in his life? It seemed far-fetched, but Rey’s heart still smiled a little at the thought.

“I’ve got this friend,” she said, her voice dropping. “She works at a diagnostics clinic—blood work, paternity stuff…” She trailed off, realizing she’d forgotten how to speak like a normal person.

Luke’s phone buzzed for what felt like the fifth time that evening.

“Sorry, Rey,” he said, checking it. “It’s Ben. My nephew.”

“Tall guy?” she asked around another bite.

Luke laughed. “Yes. That’s him. He’s… a piece of work some days.” He shook his head fondly. “He wants to know what’s going on. Why we left him out of the loop.”

“Leia’s son,” Luke added casually.

Rey froze for half a second, her smile tightening. Oh. So the tall, slightly arrogant guy was her… potential cousin.

Leia Solo—right, that Leia. The rainforest conservationist, Luke’s sister. Rey remembered the photos she’d found during her late-night deep dive: Luke at a charity gala beside a striking woman with the same sharp smile, dark brown eyes though.

She was the guys mother. Ben was her “maybe” cousin…she didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

Rey frowned. What was that guy’s problem? Sure, her I’m your daughter entrance had been less than graceful—okay, borderline catastrophic—but couldn’t the guy let her have her potential father-daughter moment in peace?

Luke paid for the dinner. Practically swatted her hand away when she reached for her wallet. “Absolutely not,” he’d said, smiling, and it was playful enough that she didn’t argue.

He even drove her back—almost an hour and a half—and didn’t say a word about the distance.

(God… I know you’re up there. Just gimme this, she thought for maybe the tenth time that night.)

“And Leia,” Luke said as the city lights streaked by, “she’s absolutely astonishing. Met Han—Ben’s dad—years ago in Brazil during a summit on clean-water and preservation projects. Han’s… well.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s a character, I’ll tell you that much. You’ll see when you meet him.”

That word—when—caught somewhere behind Rey’s ribs.

Meet him?

He was planning it. Actually planning to introduce her to his family.

Rey didn’t want the night to end. It was already Friday, and Rose’s clinic was closed tonight, so the test would have to wait until Monday. Luke had agreed without hesitation—because of course he had. Like the nice fucking guy he was. Not some jerk trying to make sure she wasn’t his.

“I can’t believe this, Rey,” he said, smiling as they stood outside her building. “It’s fate—though my colleagues would probably laugh at me for saying that.”

Rey nodded. “I-I think so too. I mean, I’m not much of a believer.”
(Sure, so why’d you pray close to twenty times tonight then? a huffy voice in her head muttered.)

“But I feel like we were meant to meet.”

Luke’s smile softened. “Absolutely. Tomorrow I’ll text you—we can walk around the campus. I’d love to show you some of my projects. We can talk more, too.”

Then he hugged her.

He hugged her like he’d done it before. Hugged her like she wasn’t a waste of space, like she wasn’t another foster check or someone people gave up on.

Just a person.

Maybe even his.

She almost asked him to come inside. Then she remembered the peeled wallpaper, the squeaky floorboards, the kitchen light that flickered like it was scared of commitment.

But then again—so what? He was a nice guy. Really nice. Why not invite him in? He wouldn’t find it weird, right?

Before she could decide, his phone dinged for what had to be the tenth fucking time that evening.

That Ben guy again. Rey was starting to get pissed.

“You can tell him to relax,” she said, forcing a light smile. “I’m not gonna—” She caught herself just in time. “I’m not gonna steal you away.”

Her voice came out teasing, or at least she hoped it did.

Luke laughed softly, tilting his head in apology. “I’m sorry, Rey… he’s just—he wants to know what’s happening. And I should probably apologise for his earlier reaction. Sometimes he doesn’t know…”

“How to act?” she offered, one brow arched.

He smiled faintly. “How to put himself in other people’s shoes.”

Rey nodded, forcing a polite little smile.

Privileged little (big) shit, huh…

Luke reached out, patted her shoulder, then gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Come pick you up. I… I can’t wait.”

His blue eyes actually twinkled in the streetlight, soft and unguarded.

And for the first time in a long time, Rey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

⸻

That night, she actually got on her knees.

Did the sign of the cross the way that sweet old Russian lady from her former foster parents’ building had taught her when she was fourteen—before the poor woman was deported, courtesy of those same “parents.”

“Please,” Rey whispered, the word catching on her breath. “Please, I’m begging you. Make it so I’m his. Make it so I belong—to him, to his family. Please, God. Please.”

In retrospect… she probably should’ve been a little clearer about which “his” she meant.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

She was giddy. Actually fucking giddy.

She’d slept maybe four hours, tops, after he’d said goodbye, but she didn’t even feel tired. Not a yawn, not a drag—just this buzzing, stupid energy that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

It was weird. She was happy—elated, even—that she’d met him. Luke. But some traitorous part of her brain kept hissing: What if he isn’t your dad? What then?

It was all a little too good to be true. And if her life had taught her anything, it was that good things usually came with a catch. Better to stay a little pessimistic than get blindsided when the universe decided to yank the rug again.

“Just this once,” she muttered, half under her breath, “just give me one good fucking thing…”

Her phone vibrated.

Rey practically jumped out of bed, the mattress squeaking under her. Luke. His name flashed across the half-cracked screen.

She fumbled to answer, nearly dropping the phone. “Hey! Good morning! You up? I’m up—are you… up?”

(Are you insane?! Who talks like this?)

There was a brief pause, then his voice — warm, steady, and somehow exactly what she’d hoped it would sound like in the morning.

“Rey.”

God, the way her name sounded from his lips—soft, certain—like it belonged there.

“I’m getting the car ready,” he said. “I’ll probably be in front of your building around ten?”

“Great! Cool—I mean, yeah, that sounds great. And cool.”

He chuckled, that same gentle laugh from last night. “I’ll see you then, Rey.”

The call ended.

Rey stared at her reflection in the dark phone screen, then dropped it onto the mattress with a groan. “Smooth, Rey.”

⸻

“I was an absolute math whiz by the time I hit sixth grade—perfect timing, since that’s also when I apparently reached my full height,” Luke said.

Rey laughed, biting into the macaroni and cheese they’d grabbed from the university cafeteria.

He’d picked her up again that morning, driven her to campus, and talked the whole way—about everything from childhood stories to the Skywalker family legacy, her mom, his current projects, even the classes he co-taught with his nephew, Ben.

It was so easy.
Too easy.

Rey felt like she’d known him all her life. Like some missing piece had quietly clicked into place.

“That’s so cool,” she said. “I mean, I liked math and science in school, but I never went to a national competition—let alone won.” She smiled, stirring her fork through the cheese.

“Did you go to college?” Luke asked gently.

“Uh… I—yeah for like a month…two. I got a scholarship. Advanced one too, same as Mom—” she caught herself, “—same as you. But I couldn’t… I mean, it was a lot, you know?”

She kept her eyes on the plate, twirling the fork through the noodles like it was the most important thing in the world. It was embarrassing. The whole morning, even during the car ride, she’d dodged questions about herself or her mom. She’d told Luke Mira had died of an illness—which, poetically, it kind of was. He hadn’t asked for details after hearing the way her voice cracked.

When he tried to ask about Rey herself, she mumbled, looked out the window, steered the conversation somewhere safer. Anything to keep her hopefully-dad from realizing his hopefully-daughter was, in her own words, a fucking loser.

A soft cough interrupted her thoughts. The polite kind people did when they wanted attention without being rude.

“I… hello. Good morning.”

Ben Solo. Spick and span in a pressed shirt, dark slacks, and a face that probably belonged in one of those architecture magazines she’d flipped through in waiting rooms. His hair was slightly mussed, but it worked for him—of course it did.

“Ben! Come, sit—join me and Rey,” Luke said cheerfully.

Rey blinked, lips parting slightly. No… why? The whiny, petulant tone rang in her head, but she didn’t dare voice it. Instead, she shifted her tray to make room. Just a bit.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Ben said politely, then turned toward her. “Hello, Rey.”

“Hey…” she managed, quick and small.

Luke smiled, something faintly mischievous flickering behind those impossibly kind blue eyes. “I’ll go get more pudding before Mrs. Slonovetz from the History Department hoards it again. Rey—chocolate or vanilla?”

Rey blinked. Luke was asking her what flavor pudding she wanted.

She shouldn’t be happy with crumbs. But when you’d spent most of your life with no one asking what you liked, even crumbs felt like a feast.

Even at that, her heart did a tiny, traitorous tap tap.

“C-Chocolate.”

“Chocolate it is. I’ll be right back, kids.”

And just like that, Rey was alone at the table with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Probably-Judgmental.

He sat down, his tray twitching lightly in his large hands.

“I have to… apologise for my behaviour yesterday,” Ben began, voice low but deliberate, like he’d rehearsed it on the drive over. “For you to come here and… put yourself out there like that—looking for someone you think might be your father—and then have a complete stranger, me, react like a—”

“Douche?” Rey supplied, smirking as she sipped her milk carton.

Something twitched near his temple—barely there—but she caught it.

“Yes,” he said finally. “That.” A breath. “I was out of line. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I—well, I kept calling and texting Luke during what he later told me was your private dinner. I—”

“Yeah,” Rey interrupted, grinning. “You were like a jealous housewife.”

Another twitch. A pulse in his jaw this time. It was kind of satisfying.

“Anyway,” he said tightly, “I hope you can understand that there was no malice behind my words. And I’ll be glad to… assist, once you and my uncle find out the, ah, paternity result.”

A faint shiver ran through Rey’s spine. Right. That. The whole reason she was sitting here pretending to belong.

“Yeah… thanks,” she said, setting the carton down. “We—I mean, Luke—agreed to wait till Monday. My friend’s clinic works then, so we’ll get the results probably at end of the week.”

Ben tilted his head, brows knitting. “That long? I have an acquaintance—a doctor—he could—”

Rey’s lips curved into a small, needling smile. “No need. Luke agreed.”

“Well, yes, I get that, but wouldn’t you want to know—”

“I just said we’d get it done on Monday, Ben.”

“I heard you, Rey. But still—you just said you’d have to wait a couple of days—”

“Well, duh, it’s not a private practice of course we’d wait—” she cut in, leaning forward a little, voice sharper now. The words mind your business dangled right on the tip of her tongue, delicious and dangerous.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw ticking. “Uh-huh.” His tone went clipped, irritated. “So I reiterate—in my opinion, your best course of action would be to quickly get the test done at a private clinic and request the expedited—”

His voice sharpened as he spoke, confidence bleeding into arrogance. His chest lifted with each word, shoulders squaring, and—without even seeming to notice—he leaned a fraction closer across the table.

She felt it immediately, that subtle shift of space. The air between them grew smaller, warmer. Her pulse ticked once in her throat, but her smirk didn’t falter.

Rey leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. The motion was casual, deliberate. Her eyes narrowed.

“Well, slight problem, ’cause see—” she tilted her head, matching his cadence perfectly, “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Ben’s lips parted — halfway between a protest and a breath. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The tension between them shifted, charged and quiet, like the air before a storm. His fingers flexed once against his tray, and her gaze followed the movement without meaning to.

He blinked, straightening just a little. “Right,” he muttered finally, his voice lower than before.

Rey smirked again, victory curling through her like heat. “Right.”

His eyes didn’t move from hers.

Rey’s smirk twitched—just a little. The cafeteria seemed to hum around them, but no other voices really reached her. Where the fuck was Luke with the damn pudding…

Why was she being so bitchy? The arrogant ass wasn’t even wrong. His idea made sense, probably the smartest move for everyone. But it was the way he said it—so high and mighty, so sure of himself, like his words came straight from the mountaintop.

She wanted to knock him down a peg. Maybe two.

Yeah, it was childish. But fuck it—he looked rich enough not to care.

His rich, deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Are you always so…”

Rey looked up at him, smiling like sin in a sundress. “So what, Benjamin? Charming? Witty?” She flicked her hair back, lips curving. “Gorgeous?”

His mouth parted—just a little.

Their eyes caught again. And for a split second, it wasn’t the usual friction of two people arguing. It was something else. Something dangerously close.

Rey felt her cheeks warm, the air suddenly too thick. “I was… kidding,” she said quickly, voice a little too light.

Ben looked away, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on the table. “What I was going to say was—difficult.”

Rey felt her eye twitch. “I’m not difficult. I’m…”

She paused. What was the damn word…?

“Trying to think of it?” he asked, voice dipping with that infuriating calm.

“No! No…” She sneered, “I’m very… easy.”

(Wait—no!)

Ben’s lips pressed together, but not fast enough to hide the smile threatening there. He bit his lower lip, failing spectacularly.

“Oh… is that what you are?” he murmured, amusement and something darker threading through his tone.

“I mean—” Rey sputtered, face heating, “I meant I’m agreeable!”

“If you were agreeable,” Ben said, recovering far too smoothly, “you’d see my way of thinking works best—”

“Oh, shut up about the damn test, Solo. Luke said he’d wait till Monday. I will too. Done deal.”

There was a pause. The faintest tilt of his head.

“…Did you just call me Solo?”

Rey blinked, caught off guard by the way his voice changed on that name—lower, quieter, like it meant something more than she intended.

“Yeah?” she said slowly. “That’s your last name, isn’t it?”

He smiled then, just a little. Not smug this time—something else. Something unreadable.

“It is,” he said softly. “Just… not used to hearing it like that.”

She furrowed her brows lightly. He looked calm—but serious now, like he was studying her, dissecting her every blink and breath.

“…We could be… related,” he said slowly, almost to himself.

Rey raised a brow, forcing a smirk she didn’t quite feel. “Uh… yeah. Yup. Maybe. We’ll see, won’t we?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes,” he said quietly. “We will.”

The silence stretched—thick, taut—until a familiar voice broke through it.

“Okay! That is the last time I ever stop to chat with Professor Reitman,” Luke announced, rolling his eyes as he set a tray down. “Ben, he just spent the last ten minutes droning on about the Hodge Conjecture. You know, that one everyone else has the sense to ignore.”

He slid the chocolate pudding toward Rey with a smile. “Here you go.”

Rey blinked, tension snapping like a string. “Thanks,” she murmured, spooning at it a little too fast.

Ben just cleared his throat, gaze fixed very pointedly on his untouched coffee.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

They wandered the campus. It was mostly empty, which somehow made the place feel even more luxurious. The lawns were immaculate, the old buildings glowing gold in the late-autumn light.

Luke spent the later part of their Saturday afternoon sharing stories from his university days—hilarious, ridiculous stories that had Rey clutching her stomach with laughter.

Ben had… decided, apparently of his own free will, to keep tagging along. Maybe to help. Maybe to supervise. Rey didn’t mind. Per se. But she also wouldn’t have minded a little time alone with Luke either.

“So wait—you spent two weeks of winter break stuck in a biology lab?” Rey said, half-laughing, half-horrified. “How did you not, like, starve or something?”

“Oh, Rey,” Luke sighed dramatically, eyes twinkling. “The only thing I can say is thank God they’d just begun testing foods for Benedict’s and Biuret’s experiments. You’re looking at a man who survived off two boxes of Cheerios a day. Each.”

Rey snorted. “Such a scientist. Suffering for the data.”

Ben coughed. Again.

Rey had half a mind to tell him to either bundle up or back off before he gave her whatever “bug” he was harboring. Still… she had to admit, he wasn’t that horrible.

He’d even picked out the spot for lunch—a busy little place that smelled like maple syrup and heaven.

“Thank you,” Ben murmured as the waitress handed him his menu.

Rey didn’t miss the way the girl’s smile lingered—sweet, flirty, just a touch too long—before she turned and handed Rey’s over with all the enthusiasm of someone issuing parking tickets.

Rey arched a brow. Cute. Real cute.

They settled into something both comfortable and awkward—like they all knew this shouldn’t feel so natural, and yet it did. Maybe the tall, dark-haired charmer sitting across from her had something to do with that.

Their food arrived soon after. Luke had ordered eggs with maple syrup and butter—glorious stuff. Rey got the same, but with bacon bits. Superb. Ben…had a salad. Of course he did.

“Uncle,” Ben said, clearing his throat. “I have to remind you about the Skywalker Mathematical Symposium. Poe’s already confirmed he’ll be there, and I might be able to persuade Professor Hux to attend as well.”

Rey swallowed her food—too fast. “Wasa symposium?”

Ben blinked, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and mild disgust.

Luke smiled fondly. “It’s something our family sponsors every year. A few of the brightest minds sign up, they take a math-intensive exam, and we select the top students. Full scholarship, the works.”

Rey froze mid-bite. Holy crap… That’s incredible. She’d only ever read about people doing things like that in magazines or seen it online. Wait—his family sponsors that?

“Oh fuck,” she blurted. “You’re like rich rich.”

The words hit the table like a dropped glass.

She winced immediately. “Wait, I mean—it’s cool that you can, like… do that. For, uh…” she gestured vaguely with her fork, “you know, students. Like, giving back and stuff.”

She wanted to stick the damn fork in her eye.

Ben opened his mouth—smirk already forming, God knows what smartass remark was about to drop—but Luke beat him to it.

“Sign up,” Luke said, calm but firm, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. Rey, sign up.”

Rey blinked, the food stuck somewhere in her chest. “I—what? Are you nuts? I’m not, like… I don’t even remember calculus two.”

“There’s still three months to go,” Luke said warmly. “You’d have time to revise. It’s not that difficult—it’s just a lot of pressure. But you should—”

“Uncle,” Ben cut in, his tone all authority and low patience. “Rey just said she feels she’s not ready—”

“Ben, please. This is between my—” Luke stopped himself, catching the word just before it slipped.

Rey’s lips twitched. He was going to say daughter. Jesus Christ—he was actually going to say it.

“Between Rey and me,” Luke corrected, smiling as he looked back at her. “Just think about it, alright?”

Rey smiled faintly back.
He believed in her.

He actually believed in this girl who’d shown up barely a day and a half ago, blurting out that she might be his daughter. He’d paid for dinner, driven her around, wanted to spend time with her.

Rey felt her eyes sting. She had to go—now.

“I—I gotta use the bathroom. Be right back.” She hoped her voice didn’t waver as much as it felt in her chest.

She splashed water on her face and stared at her reflection.

It could work, right?

Sure, he had blond—well, gray now—hair, and those ridiculously blue eyes, like a clear pond in summer… but hey, freckles! He definitely had freckles. And she—well, she had a few. She wasn’t exactly tall, and he wasn’t either. That had to mean something, right?

Which traits did kids usually inherit from their parents again? Eye color? Height? Freckles?

She tried to recall her high school biology lessons, but her brain wasn’t cooperating.

Her phone buzzed.

“Oh, shit.” Rose. She’d barely texted her all morning—too busy being with him.

Rey wiped her hands on a paper towel and answered. “Rose, hey, sorry—I completely—”

“Don’t apologize, Rey!” Rose’s voice came bright and teasing through the receiver. “Gimme the dets! How’s it going? You sounded so freaking happy even over text!”

“…God, Rose,” Rey breathed, gripping the phone tighter. “I just… I really want it to be him, you know?”

“Oh, Rey…” Rose’s voice softened immediately. “I do. But, honey, please try and be prepared for… for anything, okay? Even if—”

“Don’t,” Rey cut in, shaking her head even though Rose couldn’t see it. “I mean, yeah, I know. But let’s just… hope it is him, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Rose relented, voice tender. “It will be, Rey. You’ll see. I already booked you guys for 10:45 on Monday, right after another father–daughter duo, actually. Another paternity test.”

Rey let out a long, shaky breath. “Okay. Great.”

“Oh, Rey…” Rose sighed, the worry bleeding through.

“I’m okay,” Rey said quickly. “I swear. Hey, I’ll call you later tonight, promise.”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Rose chuckled. “Finn’s apparently prepared something extra, extra special for tonight.”

“Oooh,” Rey drawled, a smirk curling on her lips. “Vet boy got neutered?”

Rose barked out a laugh. “Rey!”

Rey grinned despite herself.

(Finn had been Rose’s boyfriend for about a year and a half. Rey loved teasing him—practically her favorite hobby every time he came over. A small part of her wondered if it was because he took up so much of Rose’s time away from her. She could be… a little territorial. But still, she supposed the guy was okay. Fine. More than okay.)

“Rey,” Rose said softly after a moment. “I love you, okay? Everything you’re hoping for—it’s going to happen. One way or another.”

Rey’s throat tightened. “Yeah. I know. Monday.”

“Bye, Rey-Rey.”

The line went dead.

Rey stared at her reflection for a long moment, palms braced against the sink. Her eyes looked red, her smile too hopeful.

She took one more breath—deep, shaky, useless—and stepped back into the restaurant.

That’s when she heard them.

“I just don’t think your approach is rational.”

Ben.

Rey froze, her stomach knotting on instinct. His voice carried easily even when quiet—rich, clipped, precise. Every word deliberate, like he measured it on some invisible scale before releasing it.

She crept a little closer, careful not to make the floorboards groan. Not close enough to be seen, but close enough to catch every word. The booth nearest theirs—thank God—was empty now, the family who’d been there earlier long gone. She slipped into the narrow space beside the wall, half-hidden by the edge of a decorative plant, pulse thudding so loudly she was sure someone would hear.

From here, she could see the back of Luke’s head, Ben’s tense shoulders. His tone—low, even, maddeningly calm—seeped right through the air between them.

Luke sighed. “I appreciate your concern, Ben, but this is—”

“You’re giving her false hope.”

It wasn’t loud, but it landed like a slap anyway.

Rey’s heart skipped once.

“You don’t know her,” he went on, steady but cool. “You don’t know what she wants.”

Luke frowned. “Ben—”

“She could be anyone,” he continued, that infuriating calm still there. “Some random girl who found an old photo and decided the math lined up. She walks in, says what she says, and you just believe her?”

Luke’s voice turned sharp. “I ran the numbers too. The timeline fits. The age fits. Everything fits.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Ben said, and though it came out quiet, it cut right through.

There was something strange about his tone—controlled but… restless. Like he was tethering himself to logic, reining something in. His chest rose and fell slowly, his fingers flexing on the table.

Rey couldn’t help but stare. The sharpness in his face wasn’t just arrogance—it was discomfort, too. Like he was arguing more with himself than Luke.

Still, his next words made her want to throw something.

“She seems like a nice girl,” he said finally, and Rey could almost hear the caution in it, “but nice doesn’t mean right. You’ve always been too trusting. There are people who see what you have—your reputation, your name—and use it.”

Rey’s breath caught.

He said it so softly, so civilly, that it hurt worse than if he’d yelled.

And yet, under the steady cadence of his voice, there was something else. She couldn’t name it—something quick, unsettled, like static between them. Maybe it was pity. Or disgust. Or maybe it was the way he wouldn’t quite meet Luke’s eye when he said her name.

Luke sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You sound just like him.”

Ben’s reply was quieter, rougher. “Good. Grandfather was the only one with any sense left.”

Rey’s pulse roared in her ears.
Nice girl. False hope. Using the name.

He spoke about her like she wasn’t a person at all—just a probability to be analyzed. A risk factor.

And still, under all of that ice and control, she could feel something else rolling off him. It was strange, confusing. He kept his posture perfect, his tone even, but she saw the muscle in his jaw jump, the faint flush along his throat. It was like the more composed he tried to be, the more something inside him wanted to move.

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t know what it was—maybe irritation, maybe attraction, maybe some awful mix of both—but whatever it was, it made her skin prickle.

She took a step, the wooden floor creaking beneath her boots. Both men turned instantly.

“Rey—” Luke started, but she beat him to it.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, forcing a tight little laugh. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little family strategy meeting.”

Ben straightened, startled. A flicker of guilt passed through his face—barely there, but she saw it. Then the wall came back up.

“That wasn’t—” he began.

“Yeah, sure.” Rey crossed her arms, biting down on the tremor in her voice. “I totally get it. I might be a liar, a scammer, a delusional nobody—but at least I’m nice, right?”

Ben’s lips parted like he wanted to respond but couldn’t quite find the words. His throat worked, and that calm mask slipped for half a second.

Luke pushed up from the table, voice soft. “Rey, please—”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh scraping out of her. “No, it’s fine. I get it. He’s logical. Careful. I’m just the messy part of the equation.”

Her shoes screeched against the floor as she stepped back, the sound sharp enough to turn a few heads.

Ben was already out of the booth, a concerned furrow between his brows. “Rey—”

“Don’t.” Her voice cut through the air, cold and precise. Ice over something that was breaking underneath.

Luke looked up at Ben, worry creasing the corners of his mouth, but she was already shrugging into her jacket—jerky, uneven movements, as if her body just wanted out.

“Rey, please—”

But she was gone before either of them could reach her.

The bell above the door chimed as she ran, the cold air slapping her face.

“Rey! Rey—”

Luke’s voice came from behind her, hurried, breathless. He hadn’t even grabbed his jacket.

“I’m not a fucking scammer, okay! I’m not!”

Her voice cracked, rough and desperate, the words tumbling out faster than her breath could keep up. “I just—I… I—fuck. Fuck it, okay? Forget I came here, forget that I said what I said—just—forget everything!”

Her throat burned by the end of it, her hands shaking so hard she had to shove them into her pockets just to hide it.
Because if she didn’t, she might’ve screamed. Or cried. Or both.

“Whoa, whoa, nu-uh. Not gonna happen, missy.”

Luke’s hand caught her arm—gentle, but unyielding. His palm was warm through her sleeve, grounding her like an anchor she didn’t ask for.

“Luke—”

“No,” he said firmly. “We’re getting that paternity test. And no matter the result, you’re still coming back to the lodge. You’re meeting the rest of my family—”

Rey laughed then. Sharp, hollow, disbelieving. “Yeah, right…”

He was only saying it to be nice. That’s what people did. They said the kind thing, the comforting thing, the temporary thing—right before the world reminded you where you actually belonged.

She stared at the pavement, her breath fogging in the cold. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t.

She’d heard promises like that before—we’ll take care of you, you’re part of the family now, you’re safe here. Always the same script, same warmth, same lie. And each time, she’d believed it. Each time, she’d packed up the few things she had, tucked away that tiny flicker of hope—maybe this was the one, maybe this was home.

It never was.

They’d always find a reason. Always.
Too quiet. Too defiant. Too old.
Too much like her mother.

And when they sent her back, she’d tell herself she was used to it. That it didn’t hurt anymore. But it always did. God, it always did.

So she didn’t say anything now. Didn’t argue, didn’t plead, didn’t explain. Just nodded once, because that’s what you did when someone nice said something impossible.

Luke’s grip softened, his thumb brushing lightly over her sleeve.

“Yes, Rey,” he said quietly, steady and certain in a way that made her chest ache. “You’re coming to meet them.”

His voice gentled even more. “And you are not allowed to leave my life. Ever. Got it?”

Rey blinked hard, her throat tightening. For a second—just a second—she almost believed him.

She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t let him see the way her throat moved, the way her eyes burned.

If she opened her mouth now, she might tell him everything—how her happiness, her fucking will to live hinged on this. On him.

How every good thing she’d ever lost had taught her that love was temporary, conditional, a loan you couldn’t pay back.

She wanted to say all of it—that if he wasn’t her father, she didn’t know what she’d do.
But she couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk the look that might flicker in his eyes. The shift from kindness to caution. From hopeful to concerned.

Couldn’t risk him thinking she was crazy.
Or obsessed.
Or worse—pathetic.

So she just nodded again. Quiet. Obedient. The way she’d learned to.

And let him believe she believed him.

“Hey!”

Ben’s voice cut through the night—low, firm, annoyingly sure of itself.

“Listen, I—”

“Oh, fuck you,” Rey snapped, spinning around so fast he almost ran into her. “The last thing I wanna do is listen to you.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me, I—”

“Ben,” Luke interjected, sighing, voice tired but calm. “Go back to campus. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“…Uncle—Rey, look—”

But he didn’t leave. Of course he didn’t.

He took a step closer instead—because that’s what men like him always did. Towering, broad, sure of themselves. His shadow nearly swallowed hers. His eyes searched her face like he was looking for some answer, darting over every twitch, every flicker—then lingered a beat too long on her lips.

“Listen,” he said quietly, voice softer now, a little too soft, “I’m sorry. But you have to understand—”

“Fuck off, Solo,” she bit out, her voice shaking with anger she couldn’t tell apart from panic. “I mean it.”

He froze, lips still parted, a muscle ticking in his jaw. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue—wanted to say something cutting, rational, or maybe something else entirely. But he didn’t.

He just swallowed, stepped back once, and nodded.

Then he turned and walked away.

Rey’s pulse was still hammering when he disappeared around the corner, her skin prickling where his gaze had been.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

Sunday came, and Rey felt like shit.
No—worse than shit.

Her chest still ached, her throat raw from holding too much in, and her eyes—too dry to even manage tears. The emotional whiplash from yesterday was brutal. She was angry, tired, humiliated, sad… every emotion from Saturday, just flipped and turned up tenfold.

Her phone buzzed.

However, she didn’t feel that thrill, that jump of hope. Still, she answered.

“Hey—Luke, listen—”

“I just parked,” he interrupted, voice warm, chipper even. “We’re going to go meet Professor Harlan. He’s one of the overseers for the symposium this year—he can explain the rules, the structure, the synopsis—everything.”

Rey blinked, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the weight in her chest.
Luke had spent the last part of last night doing damage control, gently trying to steer the conversation away from the whole restaurant blow-up. It was…cute. Kind of endearing, really.

“I know you said you don’t feel ‘ready,’” he continued, “but what’s the harm in trying, huh?”

He had a point.
And despite her mood, something—some spark of old curiosity, of the girl who once aced every math test without trying—stirred to life.

“Alright,” she murmured. “Let’s… talk to the Harlem dude.”

“Har-lan,” he corrected with a soft laugh. “Wonderful. I’ll be there around two. Oh, and Rey—grab a hat. It’s getting colder later.”

Rey smiled faintly at the screen once the call ended.

Grab a hat.

Oh, how fatherly.

It shouldn’t have hit her the way it did—those three dumb words—but somehow they pressed into her chest like a bruise she didn’t mind touching. No one had told her something that small, that normal, in years.

Not be careful because she was trouble.
Not don’t be late because she’d mess everything up.
Just… grab a hat.

She let out a shaky little laugh, rubbing her palms over her face—
but the tears had already started to come down.

Not the loud, ugly kind of crying either—just quiet, pathetic tears that slipped out before she even realized they were there. She tried to swipe them away fast, like that somehow made them less real.

God, she was losing it.

All this over a hat? Really? She’d survived foster homes, eviction notices, car engines exploding mid-repair—and this was what nearly broke her? Three words from a man who might not even be her father?

And yet… her chest still felt too tight, her throat a little too full.

Maybe this was what hope did. Maybe this was why people avoided it—it got into your bloodstream, made you reckless, made you believe in things you had no business believing in.

She stood, grabbed the one halfway-decent hat she owned—a soft gray beanie that smelled faintly of motor oil—and shoved it on.

“There she is!” Luke’s voice carried across the corridor, warm and full of that effortless cheer she still wasn’t used to.

He patted her back lightly as she reached him. She’d found him just where he’d texted—Mathematics Department, new wing—the new wing that, as the polished brass plaque proudly announced, was “courtesy of the Skywalker Foundation.”

So… his wing then.
Of course it was.

“Hey,” she smiled faintly, still a little embarrassed from yesterday’s meltdown. “Sorry I’m a bit late, I—”

“Rey, this is Professor Harlan.” Luke gestured toward a tall man in his sixties, silver hair swept back neatly, the kind of crisp posture that screamed academic royalty.

“Professor Harlan’s one of our most esteemed mathematicians,” Luke went on. “He co-chairs the symposium committee.”

“Hello, Rey,” Harlan said, his voice smooth and faintly accented—Swedish? Finnish? One of those cool, calm, Scandinavian ones that made every word sound more important. “Professor Skywalker tells me you are interested in entering the symposium, yes?”

Rey blinked, shifting her weight. Interested was… a strong word.

But then again, so was daughter.

“Uh, I mean… sure?” Rey said, scratching at the back of her neck. “If you still have, like, openings or whatever—”

“Oh, Rey! Of course we do!” Luke laughed, clapping her on the back again—gentle for him, but still enough to make her wince a little. “It’s math, for goodness’ sake! People aren’t exactly clamoring to sign up!”

Rey chuckled awkwardly.
Professor Harlan, however, didn’t share the humor. His expression barely moved, save for the faint lift of one unimpressed brow.

“Yes, well,” he said, tone crisp, “we will be delighted to have one more mind join the challenge.”

He turned to his desk, retrieving a thick booklet that looked like it had seen several decades of symposium hopefuls. “I will need your details. Your name?”

“Rey…” she hesitated. “Ugh. Niima.”

Luke stood beside her, his elbow brushing her arm. The contact was small, steady—comforting.

“Or Skywalker,” he added softly.

Harlan blinked, eyes darting between them, a flicker of confusion furrowing his brow.

“I’ll tell you later, old friend,” Luke said lightly, a secret smile tugging at his lips.

“Hm.” Harlan adjusted his glasses and nodded, flipping to a new page. “Very well. Your address, please… and a contact number.”

Rey rattled them off automatically, her voice steady even though her pulse wasn’t.

The old professor jotted everything down while Luke’s arm brushed hers again, a barely-there gesture—but one that made her stomach flip.

Rey wasn’t sure what she wanted more: the truth… or for the truth to stay exactly like this.

“It won’t be too difficult,” Luke said, tucking his hands into his coat pockets as they walked down the corridor. His tone was reassuring, teacher-like—the same one he probably used with students terrified of failing his exams.

“You’ll want to brush up on a few essentials,” he continued. “Core calculus, of course. Algebra—both linear and abstract. A bit of probability theory, maybe a surface understanding of differential equations. Oh, and discrete math. The judges love when participants show range. Logical proofs, elegant reasoning—those go a long way.”

Rey blinked up at him, her brain already short-circuiting. “Uh-huh… linear… what now?”

Luke chuckled softly. “Linear algebra. Matrices, vectors, systems of equations. You’ll pick it up again quickly, I’m sure.”

“Right,” she said, trying not to look as panicked as she felt. “Totally. Matrices. Love those. Big fan.”

He grinned, pretending not to notice her sarcasm. “And this year, they’ve added something new—a creative portion. You have to come up with your own idea, a sort of mini-theorem. Doesn’t have to reinvent the field, just something that shows how you think about math beyond numbers on a page.”

Rey frowned, her fingers twitching in thought. “Like… come up with my own problem?”

“Or your own solution to one,” Luke clarified. “Something grounded. Personal, even.”

Rey tilted her head, thinking for a long moment. “Could I… use a car as an example?”

Luke blinked, a small laugh escaping him. “A car?”

“Yeah, I mean…” She rubbed the back of her neck, instantly regretting saying anything. “It sounds stupid, but I work in a garage, right? And sometimes when a car’s been in an accident, the frame’s off balance—like, the pressure shifts to one side more than the other. So if you look at it like… I dunno, an equation… it’s kinda like forces being redistributed unevenly? You could measure how the weight shifts between the tires, or how the alignment changes depending on impact.”

Luke stopped walking, watching her carefully.

Rey winced. “That probably made zero sense.”

But he shook his head slowly, his expression softening. “No, actually—it makes perfect sense. You’re describing stress distribution in applied physics. Using practical geometry and force analysis. It’s… a surprisingly good analogy.”

She blinked. “It is?”

“It is,” he said warmly. “That’s exactly what the symposium needs—people who see math in motion. People who don’t treat it like it lives in a textbook.”

Rey felt a weird warmth crawl into her chest, something that wasn’t embarrassment for once.

Luke smiled wider. “That’s a wonderful idea, Rey. Really. We can fine-tune it together. Han will probably love it, too—he used to be a mechanic himself before switching to engineering.”

“Han?” she asked carefully. “That… Ben’s dad?”

Luke laughed, nodding. “Oh yes. He’ll be thrilled to have someone to talk to about engines and torque and all that. All the other men in the family? Useless on the topic, he says.”

Rey smiled, amused. “That’s… that’s cool, yeah. I could talk to him about that stuff.”

Luke gave her that soft, crinkled-eye smile that felt like sunlight on old wounds. “I’m telling you—it runs in the family, Rey.”

She smiled back, trying not to show how much that last part hit her right in the chest. “Isn’t he your brother-in-law?” she asked, dragging out the law just a little—half teasing, half testing.

Luke laughed, catching the implication immediately. “Ah—same difference. Either way…” He gestured between them. “We’ve got something here.”

Rey laughed too, though something about the line snagged in her throat. Runs in the family. His gesture. His damn smile. Just… everything.

Luke looked at her with that same soft, encouraging look again—the kind that made her want to be the version of herself she could see in his gaze.
“So,” he said, gentle but sure, “you’ll think about entering?”

Rey swallowed, a small, almost shaky smile breaking through. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Come on—lunch is on me.”

Rey followed him out into the sunlight, the cold air catching on the edge of something she didn’t quite have a name for.

“Everything was a mess,” Luke said with a laugh, shaking his head at the memory.

They’d found another little lunch spot—quiet, tucked between two old university buildings—and Rey had loved it from the moment they sat down. The kind of place that smelled like butter and old wood polish, where sunlight streamed through the glass in wide, warm stripes.

“I mean, I’d practically lost half my luggage, my passport was torn clean in half—courtesy of the family dog, Chewie.” Luke’s smile widened. “And yes, before you ask, the name fits. You’ll see him—you’ll love him—but for goodness’ sake, keep your shoes somewhere high.”

Rey laughed, a soft sound that came easier than it should have.

“Anyway, it was all—” Luke waved his hand in an elegant, chaotic swirl. “—a complete disaster. But somehow, I made it. The Sahara. I’d wanted to see it for years. Right before graduation, right after…” He hesitated, just a flicker. “After my father and I stopped speaking.”

Rey stilled, her fork hovering midair.

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “That trip saved me, I think. I was angry, disoriented… twenty-two and feeling like the world had ended. But standing there—just me, the wind, and miles of silence—it all sort of… realigned. Perspective, you know?”

Rey nodded quietly. She knew that feeling better than she wanted to admit—the ache of being lost, the way something vast and wordless could remind you you’re still alive.

“Anyway,” Luke said, brightening again. “It was chaos. But beautiful chaos. And in its own way, it became… mine.”

He took a sip of his tea, studying her over the rim of the cup before setting it down. “Rey, if I had to give you one good piece of advice—and trust me, I’m not particularly wise despite the grey hairs—it would be this: don’t ever trade your happiness for someone else’s comfort. Never. Ever.”

Rey’s head tilted slightly. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She just watched him, really listened.

Luke exhaled, eyes drifting toward the window. “I have regrets. A few big ones. Chances I wish I hadn’t let pass me by.” He smiled faintly, wistfully. “That trip to the Sahara—it was one chance I did take. And I’m so damn grateful I did. It healed something in me I didn’t know was broken.”

Rey blinked, her vision softening. Her eyes were starting to sting again, and she hated it—but she didn’t look away.

Then Luke’s lips curved into something warmer. “You wanna know something crazy?”

Rey swallowed. “What?”

“Your mom was the one who pushed me to take that trip.” His chuckle came low, fond. “I’d mentioned it once—offhand, during a date, I think. And that woman, Rey, she wouldn’t stop. Went on and on about how I just had to do it. Kept saying it’d change my life, that I’d come back different. Hell, she was half-ready to tag along herself.”

Rey laughed under her breath, blinking the wetness away. “Yeah… that sounds like her.”

“She was stubborn,” Luke said softly. “God, she was stubborn. But in the best way.”

Rey smiled. But this time, it trembled.

A beat passed between them.“Rey… was she sick for a long time?” Luke asked softly. “Was it cancer? I remember her mentioning—”

“Luke—” Rey’s voice cracked before she could catch it. “I’m sorry, I really, really don’t want to talk about… about my mom. I’m sorry.”

The words flew out sharper than she meant them to. Too fast. Too defensive. She could feel her pulse hammering in her throat, that old instinct to run already curling under her skin.

Luke froze. Blinked once, then again—slowly, carefully, the way people do when they realize they’ve stepped too close to something fragile.

“Of course,” he said quickly, voice low and steady. “I’m sorry, Rey. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Rey shook her head, fidgeting with her napkin until it tore in two. “No, I—I mean it’s fine. It’s—”

Her voice faltered, catching on the word.

Fine.

God, she hated that word. It was the one she’d used for years to patch over bleeding wounds.

Her heart ached—sharp, twisting, and relentless.
So many feelings at once: sadness, guilt, anger… mostly anger.
Was she already using when she pushed Luke to take that trip? Rey didn’t know. She didn’t want to. But she couldn’t stop wondering. When did it start?
After she dropped out of her program? After she lost her scholarship?
After she broke up with him?
After everything good she ever touched turned to ruin?

She blinked fast, staring at her lap until the world steadied again.

Luke was still watching her, not pressing, just there. That calm, patient presence made something tighten in her chest—like kindness was a language she’d forgotten how to understand.

He finally spoke, quiet enough that she almost didn’t catch it.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “Not ever, if you don’t want to.”

She swallowed hard, nodding once, her throat thick.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Just… not right now.”

“Of course.”

He smiled then—small, genuine, the kind that didn’t demand anything in return. And somehow, that made it worse.

Because God help her, she wanted to lean into it.
Wanted to believe that someone could sit across from her and not flinch at the mess she came with.

But she just picked at the napkin instead.
And Luke, bless him, didn’t say another word.

It was close to eleven.

Luke’s car hummed softly against the quiet, headlights cutting through the dark as the city thinned out around them. Tomorrow was the day. The day that could make—or break—her.

Fuck.

“I’ve put in the address of the clinic,” Luke said, adjusting the dial on the heat. “I’m sure I’ll find a good parking spot. Afterwards we can grab a bite—maybe even go shopping for skis. Do you ski, Rey?”

Rey blinked, caught off guard. “I—huh? I… no, I don’t.”

He chuckled, that low, warm sound that made her chest feel too small. “Ah, we’ll fix that then. Everyone should learn at least once. I’ll teach you. There’s this great slope about an hour north of the lodge where Leia and Han are—quiet, clean air, hardly anyone around.”

Rey smiled faintly, looking down at her hands. Skiing. Shopping. Lunch. He said it so casually—like they’d done this a hundred times before. Like tomorrow wasn’t hanging over her like a goddamn guillotine.

She watched the streetlights flash across his face—soft lines, silver hair, calm eyes—and felt her throat tighten.

“Luke…” she started, barely louder than a whisper.

He hummed in response, that soft, attentive sound that somehow made it worse.

“What if it’s… not you?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept his eyes on the road, the silence stretching a little too long before he finally said, “Then we’ll both be a little sad.”

Rey looked at him, the corners of her eyes burning.

He went on, calm as ever. “And then we’ll still grab that bite. And I’ll still teach you to ski.”

Her lip quivered. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out broken. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to be nice, Rey.” He glanced her way, smile faint but steady. “I mean it.”

He reached over the console, resting a hand briefly on the back of her seat. “Now—get some rest. Eat a proper breakfast. Lord knows you need it.” He poked her side lightly, and she jumped, smiling through the sting in her eyes.

“Maybe take another look at the synopsis,” he added, nodding toward the stack of papers on her lap. “See which books you might need. I’ve got a digital subscription to a few university databases—I’ll text you the login. Just… breathe, and remember I’m here. Got it?”

Rey smiled, eyes lowering. “Got it.”

“Good.” His voice softened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave her one last smile before driving off.

Rey stood there for a moment, her heart still clamoring in her chest despite how cool she hoped she looked. She caught her reflection in a nearby window—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, half a smile.

She was just about to turn her key when—

“Rey, hey, I—”

She let out a sound somewhere between a gasp, a scream, and a dying kettle. Her keys clattered to the floor.

Ben.
Fucking.
Solo.
Standing right behind her in the dim, flickering light of the hallway, coat collar up, hair slightly mussed like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times on the way here.

“What the fuck! Are you out of your mind? Why—how—what are you even—”

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed, palms half-raised like he thought she might swing at him. “Jesus, you wanna wake up the entire building? I—I just… I needed to come see you. To apologise for—”

“How the fuck do you even know where I live?” she snapped, taking a step back. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh my God—you stalked us, didn’t you? I knew that stupid BMW was making weird turns—”

“My car is not stupid,” he bit out, jaw tightening. “And I didn’t stalk you, Rey. I just—” He exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair again, looking uncharacteristically rattled. “I couldn’t ask my uncle. He told me to cool off another day. But I couldn’t. I had to say I’m sorry.”

“You had to,” she echoed, folding her arms tight across her chest. “You needed to. You keep saying that, Solo—like it’s some noble duty. What, you think if you rack up enough ‘sorrys,’ it cancels out you being an ass?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “No. I just thought it might make me less of one.”

The quiet honesty in his voice hit her like a shove. Just for a second. But then she caught herself, chin tilting higher, armor snapping back into place. “You don’t strike me as the type who cares that much about other people’s feelings.”

“I don’t,” he said flatly. Then his eyes flicked to hers. “Except apparently yours.”

The air between them stilled.

Rey’s mouth went dry. Her pulse jumped—traitorous, loud.

He looked startled too, like he hadn’t meant to say it, his shoulders locking tight. “I just—what I said at the restaurant, about you using Luke’s name—I was out of line.”

“Out of line?” she repeated, a brittle laugh cracking through. “You basically accused me of conning your family.”

“I didn’t basically—”

“You did!”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then finally ground out, “Fine. Yes. I did. But I was wrong.”

Rey’s throat ached. She hated that it did. “Congratulations on the self-awareness, Professor.”

His lips twitched, halfway between irritation and reluctant amusement. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Good,” she snapped. “I aim to please.”

They were close now—too close. She hadn’t noticed when it happened, when his shadow joined hers on the wall, when her own breath started syncing with his. The air felt thick, electric—like static before a storm.

Ben swallowed, his voice quieter, rougher. “I didn’t follow you to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, low, pulse thrumming in her ears.

He looked at her—really looked. His gaze softened just enough to make her stomach twist. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about how upset you were. And I hated that I caused it.”

For a beat, the world went quiet.

Rey blinked, forcing herself to look away. She wanted to say something sharp, cutting—but her voice refused to cooperate. Instead—
“I’m a big girl, Solo. You think this is the first time someone’s said something insulting to me?”

He frowned, voice low. “Rey, look—”

“No.” She lifted a hand, cutting him off. Her voice shook, but not from fear. “I just want you to know something right now.”

His eyes narrowed, studying her like he couldn’t decide if she was a puzzle or a dare.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” she said, steadying herself, “and the day I get the results—I’m not gonna turn away from Luke. The guy says he wants me in his life, best believe I’ll be in it.”

Ben blinked, still taken aback. His eyes darted down, noticing the stack of papers half slipping from her grip. “The symposium?” he asked slowly. “You’re… you’re actually gonna do it?”

There it was again—that faint, patronizing look. The kind that said sweetheart, you’re punching above your weight.

“Yeah,” she shot back, lifting her chin. “Definitely. I am. Is that a problem?”

He frowned, caught off guard. “A prob—of course not. But you have to understand the material’s a lot to handle, and you said yourself—”

“I know what I said, Solo.” Her voice sharpened, eyes glinting. “I haven’t got dementia. But I decided I wanna give it a shot. So mind your damn business.”

He let out an incredulous sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “How are you doing this? I didn’t come here to fight. I…” He dragged both hands through his hair again, pacing a step away, then turning back toward her. “Christ, Rey, you’re something else.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice calm but burning. “I get that a lot.”

The silence stretched—thick, charged, the air practically humming between them. His eyes searched hers like he was trying to figure out what she was made of. And maybe what the hell she was doing to him.

She decided to move first. Whatever “make-up” or “wave-the-white-flag” fantasy he’d cooked up on the drive over, she wanted to crush it flat.

“Well,” she said with a shrug, voice dripping honey and steel, “I’d say it was lovely to see you one last time before our fates are officially sealed by the test, but…” Her mouth curved, dangerous and sweet. “Night, cous’.”

She saw it—just for a split second—the flicker of something that looked like disgust, or maybe denial. Something about that word cousin hit him like acid.

And God, she loved that.

The door slammed shut between them, sharp and final.

Rey leaned against it, heart hammering in her chest, staring at the wood as if she could still feel him standing on the other side.

She shut her eyes and exhaled, willing her pulse to calm. Tomorrow was coming. And she’d be damned if she let him mess up her focus again.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

Monday. 10:00 a.m.

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee.

Rey sat in the waiting room chair that squeaked every time she shifted, knees bouncing so fast she thought the whole damn floor might start vibrating with her. Her palms were clammy. Her mouth too dry. She’d barely eaten breakfast, couldn’t even remember brushing her hair.

Luke sat across from her, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping a steady rhythm against the linoleum. His face looked calm—but that kind of performative calm that only made the anxiety underneath more obvious. His smile was patient, his eyes soft, but his fingers drummed like they were counting seconds to impact.

When their eyes met, he smiled gently.
“You okay?”

Rey opened her mouth to lie, but what came out was a nervous laugh. “Define ‘okay.’”

Luke chuckled. “Fair enough.”

The sound comforted her and gutted her at the same time. He was so good. So genuine. And she—she was sitting there praying the test would prove a truth that might not exist.

The frosted door opened. Rose peeked out, bright as ever in pale blue scrubs.
“Rey-Rey! You made it!”

“Hey,” Rey managed, standing.

“I’m sorry for not texting earlier—it’s been chaos. The new girl, Charlotte, started today. Bless her heart, she’s sweet but—” Rose exhaled dramatically, glancing toward the front desk, where a young woman was twirling gum around her finger while typing. “—let’s just say I’ve earned an early glass of wine.”

Rey grinned weakly. “Lovely. So… do I just go in or—”

“Luke Skywalker?” Rose asked, glancing down at the clipboard.

He stood immediately, ever the gentleman. “That’s me. You must be the famous and lovely Rose.”

He actually kissed her hand. Of course he did.

Rose’s grin widened. “And you’re the patient with the best manners I’ve had all morning.”

She flipped through the clipboard, then lit up.
“Also—great news! The new testing machine’s here! You’ll get your results today, no week-long wait.” She tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor, practically buzzing.

Luke’s face brightened. “That’s wonderful!”

Rey smiled—sort of. The other half of her wanted to throw up. Today.

Not a week from now. Not enough time to brace, to hope, to prepare for the sound of her own heart breaking.

Rose turned, gesturing down the hallway. “Rey, you’ll be in Room Three. Mr. Skywalker, come with me.”

Luke gave her a small nod—gentle, steady, full of warmth. “See you soon.”

Rey forced a smile back, but her stomach had already started its free-fall.

⸻

Room 3 was too white, too quiet, too cold. Rey sat on the exam table, swinging her legs, staring at the tray beside her: sealed needles, sterile wipes, two labeled vials.

One read Skywalker, Luke.
The other, Niima, Rey.

Ten minutes passed. Fifteen.

Charlotte finally stumbled in, gum still in her mouth, phone in her pocket playing muffled pop music.
“Ugh, sorry! Crazy morning. You’re—uh—Rae? Ree?”

“Rey.”

“Right. Rey. Got it. Okay!” Charlotte chirped, flicking her gloves on—inside out, then fixing them with a nervous laugh. One of the sealed needles slipped from her hand, clattering onto the floor.
“I swear I’m usually not like this.”

Rey didn’t believe her for a second.

Finally, with a fresh needle, Charlotte found a vein. The draw wasn’t bad—until she yanked the needle out too fast. Blood welled up, bright and sudden, trailing toward Rey’s wrist.

“Oh my God—uh—hold pressure!” Charlotte stammered, grabbing a cotton pad, flustered.

Rey pressed down, forcing a tight smile. “It’s fine.”

Charlotte’s phone dinged. She flushed red, fumbling it off the counter. “No—no, I’m just gonna grab more gauze from the cart, be right back!”

“Sure,” Rey muttered, but the door was already swinging open.

The smell of Charlotte’s cheap floral perfume hung in the air after she left.
The room fell silent again, save for the faint buzz of the computer monitor.

Rey sat there, pressing the pad against her arm, staring at the two vials on the tray. Her name. Luke’s name.

She didn’t even know why she leaned closer—just something to do, something to keep from shaking apart.

That’s when she saw the open computer terminal on the counter. Her name, her file already pulled up, blinking in the system.

A single line of text stood out:

Blood Type: B+
Maternal: A-
Potential Match: Skywalker, Luke – O-

Her brain short-circuited.

O- and A- couldn’t make B+. Not biologically. It was impossible.

The world shrank to that tiny screen.

She hadn’t even thought about her mom’s blood type in years, barely remembered her own, but this—this she knew. Luke would know, too. Of course he would. He was a literal genius; he’d take one look and connect the dots in half a second.

Her stomach turned cold.

Then she noticed something—small, stupid, hopeful: the tab was marked Internal View Only. A restricted field. Not visible to patients. Only official medical staff.

Okay. Okay. So maybe she still had a chance. Maybe she could fix this. Maybe—

Her pulse slammed in her ears.
What was she even thinking? She couldn’t fix blood. She couldn’t rewrite biology.

But her brain was already racing ahead of her—running through ideas, half-formed lies, anything to hold onto the thing that was already slipping away.

The cursor blinked at her.
Blink. Blink.
Like it was daring her.

And that’s when it started—the panic that felt less like fear and more like static, crawling up the back of her neck.

She wasn’t thinking anymore. She was reacting.

Her throat tightened; she felt her pulse in her
temples.

Of course. Of course. This was the part where the universe reminded her she didn’t belong—not to anyone.

She should have known better than to hope.

Her cursor hovered over the line. Her fingers trembled. She just wanted to close it. Walk out. Pretend she hadn’t seen it.

But she didn’t move.
Because Luke’s words from the car echoed in her head—
Then we’ll still grab that bite. And I’ll still teach you to ski.

He’d already decided to care.

And something in her—broken, desperate, terrified—snapped.

The computer didn’t even need a password. Just an open form — one of those internal programs clinics used for preliminary checks before the samples went to the main lab.

She clicked the “Results Pending” field.

A line of text appeared almost instantly:

Match Probability: 0.00

The official result. The system’s auto-calculation — the basic genetic logic that kicked in the moment blood types were entered.
And even that old, half-glitching program knew better.
O- and A- couldn’t make B+.

The machine wasn’t cruel; it was just right.
It didn’t wait for DNA sequencing or paperwork or hope.
It did the math, ran the ratios, and quietly declared the impossible.

Cold, clean, absolute math — the kind that didn’t care about feelings.

Rey stared at the screen until the numbers bled together, her reflection ghosted back at her in the glass.

Her fingers shook.
Delete.
0.00 became blank space.

Her heart hammered so loud she could barely breathe.

She typed 99.87.
Stared at it.
Deleted it.
Typed 99.88.
Deleted again.

Her reflection wavered on the black monitor glass — pale, scared, guilty.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop it, Rey.”

But her hand didn’t listen. It hovered, shaking, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat she couldn’t steady.

Because this wasn’t just about Luke.
It was about every door that had ever slammed in her face. Every foster home that had “tried their best” before giving up. Every teacher who’d called her “bright, but inconsistent.” Every time someone said you’re not really family.

Her throat closed up. She could hear Luke’s voice from the car — Then we’ll still grab that bite. And I’ll still teach you to ski.
He’d said it like it was easy. Like he meant it.
And maybe he did — for now.

But people always meant it for now.

And Rey knew how for now ended.
It ended in forgetting.
In being left behind because loving her was inconvenient.
Because she wasn’t “theirs.”

Her finger twitched over the keyboard.

It wasn’t even lying, not really — just fixing something that was broken.
The math was wrong, that’s all. It had been wrong her whole life.

She typed 99.89.
Stared at it until the numbers blurred.
Then she deleted it.
Her chest ached, every inhale sharper than the last.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “You’re insane.”

And yet the cursor blinked, patient, waiting.

Because a small, ugly voice whispered back:
He’ll forget you too.

That did it.
Her hands moved before her mind could stop them.

99.88.

She hit Save.

And the moment the screen froze — grey, silent — her heart stopped right along with it.

She turned away, gripping the counter.
She could walk out. She could still tell Rose. Tell Luke. Tell someone.

“Shit.”
Her pulse spiked. Fingers tapping frantically at the Delete button.
“Shit, shit, no—don’t—”

The whole screen was still pitch black.

The door burst open.

Charlotte, coffee in hand, breezed back in. “Ugh, this thing again? Crashes like every other hour. Drives me nuts.”

Rey’s stomach flipped. “I—I didn’t touch—”

Charlotte rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t worry bout it.“
She smacked the side of the monitor, hit the tower’s button twice. “See? You just gotta sweet-talk it.”

The screen flickered back to life—bright, functional, horrible.

And there it was.
Her edit.

Match Probability: 99.88% – Confirmed.

Charlotte didn’t notice. She squinted at the monitor, gum snapping faintly. “Kay… so, like, I’ve put this in and…” she muttered, typing something that sounded vaguely important. “I’ll forward it to Rose, and the results’ll be in today by, I don’t know… seven-ish? And now you’re good to go. You did great, sweetie.”

Rey nodded automatically. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to press them between her knees to hide it.

Seven.
Seven o’clock.

The number landed in her head like a countdown.
By then, the machine—the real analysis—would finish. The program would cross-check every file, every drop of blood, and it would see. It would know.

Would it throw an error? Flag the mismatch? Would Rose get a call from the lab asking why the genetic markers didn’t align?

Her mind raced through every possible outcome, none of them survivable.

What if the machine logged every keystroke? What if Rose—God, Rose—is the one who finds out? There’d be a timestamp, a digital footprint, a trail she couldn’t erase. What if they called another lab, cross-checked the data, realized the sample didn’t add up?

They’d know.
Of course they’d know.

She could already see it: Luke’s confusion first, then the disappointment that would hit like a blade slipping between her ribs. The same look everyone got when they realized she wasn’t what they thought she was—another lie, another girl trying to claw her way into someone else’s life.

Charlotte kept clicking, humming under her breath, oblivious to the implosion happening three feet away.

Rey forced herself to stand, to smooth her jacket like everything was fine. The edges of the room felt too bright, her heart thudding in her throat.

She couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or throw up or curl up in a corner until the world stopped spinning.

Instead, she just smiled, small and numb.
“Thanks,” she said, voice almost steady.

Then she walked out of the room, every step echoing in her skull like the tick of a clock counting down to seven.

Her body was shaking, but her mind was numb.

It was done.
No switch to undo. No safety net. No second “Are you sure?” prompt.

Just a single, irreversible lie.

And when she stepped out into the hallway and saw Luke waiting at the end, smiling at her—
that’s when it hit her hardest.

She’d just tried to make herself his daughter.
On paper.
In code.

She was a fucking liar.
And somehow, the worst part wasn’t that she’d done it—
it was that, in that exact second, seeing his eyes light up when he spotted her—
she didn’t regret it.
Not yet.

Around three o’clock, Rey made peace with it—

if you could call absolute collapse peace.

She sat in the passenger seat like a ghost, chin propped on her hand, watching the blur of trees slide past the window. The world looked too alive for how she felt. Luke was trying—God bless him, he was trying—but every time he spoke, the words bounced right off her.

He talked about the drive, about the cottage, about how the place looked even better this time of year. He said they’d stop by the lake before dinner, maybe even light a fire. His voice was warm, full of life. And she just sat there, nodding, murmuring something now and then, the smile on her lips barely qualifying as human.

She hadn’t told him. Of course not.

She couldn’t.

Well—maybe one day she’d tell him she tried to fake it, that for one unholy minute she’d lost her mind enough to believe she could rewrite blood. Either way by seven o’clock, the email would come, and he’d know. He’d see.

He’d read the numbers, the neat percentages, the medical phrasing, and he’d realize—scientifically, biologically, definitively—that she wasn’t his.

And she’d have to sit there, pretend to read it at the same time, do the whole wide-eyed act. The gasp. The sad little smile. Maybe even say something noble and selfless like, But you’ll always be in my life, right?

Bullshit.

Her stomach twisted. By seven o’clock, her fate wasn’t just sealed—it was burned. Charred beyond recognition.

God, how pathetic could she be? To think she could outsmart a lab, to think she could fake the un-fakeable. Moron. Idiot. Loser.

“—we’re here!”

Luke’s voice cracked through her spiral like a window opening in a storm.

She blinked, dazed, and turned toward the windshield.

The cottage stood at the edge of the treeline, golden light spilling from the windows, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. It looked impossibly warm, inviting—like a place meant for people who belonged.

Luke grinned at her, boyish and bright. “Told you it’s beautiful, huh?”

Rey swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a small nod.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Beautiful.”

She blinked at the entrance — a woman and a man stood waiting by the wide wooden door, smiling like something out of a Christmas commercial.

Dear God, was Hallmark filming?

The woman—Leia, had to be—was holding a mug of what looked suspiciously like hot cocoa, steam curling up past her soft smile. Her eyes were kind, sharp, a little too knowing. The man beside her—Han, obviously—had that easy grin Luke always talked about, the kind that said I’ve seen everything and still find it funny.

“You must be Rey,” Leia said, stepping forward before Rey could even process the moment. Her voice was soft but sure, like music that already knew the melody. She pulled Rey into a hug—gentle, unassuming, warm in a way that made Rey’s throat tighten instantly.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Leia murmured.

“Yeah, uh—likewise,” Rey managed, her voice half-swallowed.

Han stepped up next, giving her a quick, one-armed hug that still felt more genuine than half the affection she’d had in her life. “Welcome, kid,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Luke’s been talking about you non-stop. Practically glowing.”

Rey laughed nervously. “Oh God, that’s… terrifying.”

“Please, come in, come in!” Leia said brightly, stepping aside.

Warmth spilled from the house in a wave—firelight, cinnamon, the faint hum of a record playing somewhere deeper inside. Everything smelled like sugar and pine, like comfort and stability, like the sort of home people built and kept.

Rey stepped inside slowly, her boots thudding softly against the wood. Her chest ached at how… lived-in it felt. Family photos lined the mantle, a stack of board games half-toppled in the corner, a knitted throw draped over the couch.

It was the kind of place you came back to.

And the kind of place she’d never had.

And never would.

“Wow, this place is—” she started, then froze as her heel crushed against something on the floor.

“Oh—shit! Sorry!” She bent down, cringing, realizing she’d stepped on a very expensive-looking pair of leather boots.

Han grinned, waving it off. “Not mine, don’t worry about it.”

He tilted his head toward the big couch in the center of the room.

“Those belong to the other troublemaker in the family.”

Rey followed his gaze.

And there he was.

Ben Solo.

Laid out like sin and arrogance on the couch, one arm draped lazily behind his head, the other holding a half-open book he clearly wasn’t reading. His dark hair was pushed back, the sleeves of his forest-green sweater rolled up just enough to show his forearms — of course they were perfect, because of course he would have the audacity to have perfect forearms.

He didn’t even look surprised to see her. Just turned his head slowly, eyes catching hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her heart stumbled.

“Oh,” Rey said weakly. “You’re… here.”

Ben’s mouth twitched, a half-smile that wasn’t friendly. “It’s my family’s cottage. Where else would I be?”

Rey bit her lower lip, fists curling tight near her hips. Every nerve in her body screamed for something—anything—to hit. A wall, a chair, maybe him. She did not need this right now. Not Ben’s silent brooding, not Luke’s optimism, not her own stomach churning with guilt and adrenaline.

But before she could even begin to spiral—something huge, warm, and very alive crashed into her side.

“Holy—!”

A bark. A very loud bark. Followed by fur, drool, and about a hundred pounds of pure chaos.

“Chewie!” Han’s voice rang from across the room.

“Oh, Han, I told you to put him upstairs until she settles in!” Leia scolded, but she was laughing, the kind of laugh that only came from long, well-worn love.

Meanwhile, Rey was flat on her back, helpless and hysterical, as a mountain of fur enthusiastically covered her in slobber.

“Che—Chewie? Oh my God—stop it, ya mutt! Stop—!” she laughed between gasps, trying to push the enormous dog off her. He was massive, all paws and affection, sniffing at her hair, her jacket, her face, tail wagging like a whip.

“Welcome to the family,” Han said, grinning as Leia rolled her eyes.

Ben grabbed Chewie by the collar, his large hand curling easily around the thick leather strap. “Alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, low but firm.

And somehow, the damn dog actually listened. With a low, content huff, Chewie backed off—though not before giving Ben’s hand a sloppy lick, which earned him an eye-roll and the faintest ghost of a smile. The beast lumbered back behind him, circling once before flopping down with a groan that rattled the floorboards.

Rey was still catching her breath, cheeks flushed, hair wild from the encounter. She wiped at her face, smearing away the last streak of drool, still laughing softly under her breath.

“Thanks,” she managed, her voice a little hoarse.

Ben tilted his head slightly, studying her with that maddeningly unreadable expression of his. His eyes lingered on her longer than they should have—on her smile, on the way she tried to tuck her hair behind her ear but missed twice.

“No problem,” he said finally, his tone casual but his gaze anything but.

Rey glanced up at him, catching the faintest edge of something in his eyes—something raw, unguarded, almost… human. It made her chest tighten, just for a moment.

“Rey,” Leia said gently, a hand resting on her back. “If you’d like to freshen up—the bathroom’s upstairs. Dinner will be ready around six.”

Rey nodded, still trying to catch up to the rhythm of this household—the warmth, the smells, the people. Her eyes flicked from Leia’s kind, smiling face to the much taller figure standing just beyond her shoulder.

Ben hadn’t moved.

He stood there, one hand still absently scratching behind Chewie’s ear, the other shoved deep into his pocket. His expression was neutral—too neutral—but his eyes were… something else. Watching her. Not in that cruel, assessing way he’d done before. Not exactly gentle, either. Just… present. Like he was trying to decide what the hell she was.

“Thank you,” Rey said quickly, dragging her gaze back to Leia, who beamed in that effortlessly warm way mothers seem to master.

“Of course, dear.” Leia squeezed her arm softly. “You’ve both had a long day. Relax a bit before dinner, hmm?”

“Yeah, that sounds—good.”

She moved to step past Ben, and for a brief, suspended moment, they were too close. The faint smell of cedar and something darker—soap, maybe, or aftershave—caught her breath before she could hide it. He looked down, barely tilting his head, and she could’ve sworn one corner of his mouth twitched.

“Up the stairs, second door on the left,” he murmured, voice lower than it needed to be — calm, controlled, almost too careful.

Rey nodded, her hand curling around the railing. “Got it.”

Ben’s eyes flicked over her face, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to be infuriating.

“Look at that,” he said quietly, so only she could hear. “You actually take direction.”

Rey’s breath hitched. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t cruel — but something in the way he said it, that slow drag of words, made her pulse trip.

She wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to shove him. Mostly, she wanted to breathe.

Rey tore her gaze away first, muttering something that vaguely resembled “thanks,” and hurried up the stairs, feeling his eyes trail her until she disappeared around the corner.

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

When she finally stepped into the bathroom, she could barely look at her own reflection.

Sick.
That’s what she was — a sick, deranged woman. Crazy. Certifiable.

How could she even think to do what she did? To touch something sacred like that? To actually try and steal what wasn’t hers?

Her stomach turned. She gripped the counter, knuckles white, then splashed cold water over her face like she could scrub the thought away, wash off the guilt clinging to her skin.

Her phone buzzed again — the screen lighting up with Rose’s texts stacked in cruel little rows:

10:45 — “i cant wait to send out the results Luke was so nice, Rey-Rey! u are gonna be his daughter. I can feel it!!”
12:05 — “Rey-Rey there’s something up with the machine — super slow results will probably come around eight now.”
14:55 — “its back up! Although Charlotte will send out the results cause Finn ‘had to’ take me out to lunch early, idk what that’s about. keeping you posted.”
15:34 — “Rey-Rey u okay? Try to breathe honey, everything will be okay 💜💜💜💜”

Rey stared at the screen until the words blurred, her own warped reflection glinting faintly in the glass.

It was 16:16 now.

Her pulse ticked in her ears like a clock running out of time.
Mere hours until it all came crashing down — or worse, didn’t.

She lifted her gaze back to the mirror. Her eyes looked foreign, like they belonged to someone else entirely. Someone who’d done something unforgivable.

Time was literally ticking away — and she couldn’t tell if she wanted it to stop or hurry the hell up.
She stepped back out, eyes darting around the hallway. Even the freaking hallway was nice. Everything was.

Gosh, Leia was so gentle — the kind of gentle that seeped under your ribs before you noticed. Barely a few lighthearted exchanges, and Rey could already tell the woman was good. Han too, in that rough-edges-but-heart-of-gold way.
And Luke… she couldn’t even begin. The man was something else entirely — kind, patient, open in a way that made her chest hurt.

She wandered slowly, her fingers brushing against the painted wall, pausing by a few framed photos.

Ben. Graduation cap slightly askew, tall — so much taller than his dad. His face was Leia’s though, and that nose was all Han. His hair… thick, dark, unfairly perfect.

A mix of both his parents. Genetics.
Because that’s how it actually worked, dummy. His was real. Tangible. Blood-deep.
Not like you.
You don’t belong to these people.

“I assume you got lost.”

His voice came from behind her — deep, smooth, and far too close.

Rey spun, heart jerking up into her throat.

“I—huh? No, I didn’t, I was just—”

“Snooping?”

“I’m literally walking down a freaking corridor, Solo. Pictures hanging — how can I not fucking look—”

“I’m kidding, Rey.”

He stepped closer, that stupid smirk tugging at his stupid, handsome, stupid face. The light from the hallway window caught the edge of his jaw, too sharp, too steady.

Her palms went clammy. Not from him — not just from him — but from the storm brewing in her chest. Guilt, dread, anger at herself, anger at everything. Every minute that passed dragged her closer to the moment where the universe would tear the lie apart and expose her for what she was.

A fraud.

A girl who’d wanted too much.

“Whatever. Would you move?” she muttered, voice brittle.

“Are you okay?” His tone had shifted — not mocking now, but careful. Curious. “Is this about this morning? The test? Luke said it was quick.”

“It—yeah, no, yeah it was… fine. I’m fine, Solo. Just—”

“He also said you’d have the results back later today. Not Friday. That’s good. You took my advice.”

Oh, this patronizing asshole.

“I did not take your advice,” she snapped, heat flooding her cheeks. “It just happened that way. Now move.”

Ben tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he could read the panic behind her eyes. That unreadable, professorial look of his — like she was another problem to solve.

“You should try and relax,” he said, voice even. “Why are you so strung out? You said it yourself — whatever happens, you’re here to stay.”

Rey blinked hard.

Yeah, she had said that. Back when she’d believed it. Back before she’d sat in a clinic and tried to rewrite her own goddamn DNA.

Now every breath felt like a countdown.

“I… look, I don’t know,” she mumbled, staring somewhere past his shoulder. “I… maybe I’m not gonna be his daughter.”

Ben frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Her voice cracked. “Call it a hunch. Move—”

“Rey.” His voice softened — careful now, low enough that it made something in her tighten. “Relax. Maybe… maybe it’d be better if you aren’t.”

Her head snapped up, anger flashing white through the panic. “Excuse me?”

“Look, just—” he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I mean, Luke will still want you here. With him. With… us.” He hesitated, throat bobbing. “But maybe it’d be better if we weren’t… related.”

She stared at him. The words hit like a slap — but beneath the sting was something stranger, darker. Something that made her chest clench for reasons she didn’t want to name.

“Oh wow,” she said, her voice trembling with both fury and exhaustion. “You dislike me that fucking much, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.” His tone hardened — an attempt at control. “Stop swearing so much.”

The space between them felt alive. Too small. Too charged. Her pulse jumped with every breath he took. His cologne — clean and sharp with something darker beneath it — filled her head until she wanted to shake it off.

“Then what the fuck are you trying to say, Solo?” she hissed, stepping closer, chin tilted up in defiance.

Ben’s jaw worked. He was close enough now that she could see the tension at the corner of his mouth, the flicker in his eyes — half anger, half something else.

Something that made him hate himself for even feeling it.

“I—”

He stopped. His throat flexed, his words caught somewhere between confession and restraint. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides. He wanted to grab something, ground himself, but everything in the world felt like her.

Her breath hit his neck. He could smell the faint sweetness of her shampoo. His chest felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. He shouldn’t be thinking this. Not about her. Especially not about her.

“Ben! Come down and help with the dishes, please! Bring Rey too!”

Leia’s soft, sweet voice cut through the moment — warm and ordinary and impossibly grounding.

Rey exhaled sharply, like she’d been punched. Ben looked away first, shoulders taut, hands shoved deep into his pockets as if to hide the tremor in them.

Neither of them moved.

The air between them still hummed, charged, heavy with everything unspoken — guilt, confusion, want.

And in Rey’s chest, guilt clawed a little deeper.

Because whatever happened tonight — whatever that test said — she’d ruined everything already.

She sat beside Luke, pretending her hands weren’t shaking. The table was set perfectly—candles, napkins folded into neat little triangles, plates that probably cost more than her rent ever had.

Luke, being Luke, was as effortlessly kind as ever. He pulled out her chair, waited until she sat, and smiled like all of this—she—made perfect sense.

He poured himself a glass of something pale and gold, its sweetness curling faintly through the air, then reached for a second bottle. “Rey,” he asked, “white or red?”

“Oh, no. I can’t.”

The words left too quickly, too sharp. And immediately, she wanted to claw them back.

Across the table, Ben’s fork paused midair. His chair creaked slightly as he leaned back, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean can’t?”

Fuck.

That wasn’t what normal people said. Normal people laughed, said “maybe just a glass” or “I’ll stick to water.” Not can’t.

Her stomach twisted, her mind sprinting for something casual, something safe. “I just… don’t drink,” she said, her voice too fast, too practiced. “Not—don’t like it.”

Her smile felt thin, the kind you wear when someone’s staring too close.

She didn’t dare look at Ben again, but she could feel his gaze on her—steady, unnerving, like he was trying to solve her.

Truth was, she did drink.

More than she should’ve.

There had been nights, too many of them, when she’d needed the numbness. The warm hum that dulled the ache, that made all the wrong choices seem quieter for a little while. But she couldn’t. Not here. Not in this house where everything felt so fragile and good.

Especially not with the clock ticking down to seven.

By seven, the email would come.

By seven, Luke would know.

She swallowed hard, hands clasped tight in her lap. She could still see the monitor screen in her mind, the number she’d typed, deleted, typed again. The moment she’d hit save.

The machine had crashed. That was it. That was the end.

The blood would speak for itself now. It would tell the truth.

“Coca-Cola or root beer?” Luke asked again, still smiling.

“Coke’s good,” she managed, her throat dry as sandpaper.

“Of course,” he said softly, pouring her a glass.

Ben hadn’t looked away. He was quiet, unreadable, but she felt him watching—felt the weight of his attention like static on her skin.

Not pity.

Not even suspicion.

Something stranger.

As if he could feel there was a secret hovering just under her surface.

“Luke mentioned you work on cars? You got your own shop or something?” Han asked, spooning up mashed potatoes like it was the most casual question in the world.

Rey smiled faintly, shoulders loosening just a little. “Just work there. I like it. I mean, I work mostly alone—which is great. And I like the cars.”

“What’s your favorite?” Han’s grin widened, sensing kindred energy.

“My—uh—favorite?” She hesitated, tapping her fork against her plate. “Probably a ’67 Shelby GT500. Loud, angry, constantly leaking oil—basically my spirit animal.”

Han barked out a laugh and clapped his hands once. “Now that’s a car! Finally someone who speaks my language!”

Leia smiled indulgently, Luke chuckled. Ben, though—Ben just looked away, jaw tightening slightly as he stabbed at a green bean. The corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk but didn’t quite let himself.

“How long have you worked there?” Ben asked after a moment. His tone was bored, but his eyes weren’t. They flicked to her and stayed there.

“Since I was, uh, sixteen. No… fifteen, I think. Can’t really recall.” She waved her hand vaguely. “A while.”

Ben frowned. “You… worked while underage?”

Rey shrugged. “Social services didn’t give much of a shit after the fifth placement. Left me alone after I told them I was gonna kill myself if they didn’t fuck off.”

The table went silent. Not quiet—silent.

Like the air itself had been vacuumed out of the room.

Even Chewie lifted his head from under the table.

Rey blinked, realizing what she’d said, and let out an awkward laugh. “I’m kidding! I—uh—I can be a bit blunt, I guess. There’s mostly men at the shop—ex-prison guys, some military. No one really does the small talk thing. So, yeah. Didn’t exactly go to school for manners.”

Leia’s eyes softened, full of quiet, aching empathy. Luke looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Han broke the silence first, lifting his glass. “Well, for what it’s worth, sounds like you learned to survive. That’s better than manners.”

Rey smiled, grateful for the out. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Luke also mentioned you’re going to try out for the symposium?” Leia asked brightly, hands clasped in delight. “I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly! Did you get all the materials? I’m sure Ben has some old textbooks that could—”

“Mother.”

Ben’s tone cut in, polite but pointed.

Rey’s smile twitched. “No, really, I’m good. It’s okay. I’ll just… try it out. See how I do.”

Right. That. The symposium. She’d practically forgotten she’d even signed up for it. Another test she’d probably fail at. Another chance to embarrass herself.

Luke nudged her gently, voice warm. “You’ll give it your best shot. Whatever happens—happens.”

Rey nodded faintly, focusing on the small ring of condensation beneath her glass.

A sigh escaped from across the table—soft, but unmistakably irritated.

She glanced up. “You good?”

Ben didn’t look at her. He toyed with his fork like it had personally offended him. “I just don’t think Rey needs pushing. She said herself she wasn’t prepared.”

“I changed my mind,” she shot back before she could stop herself.

He ignored that, of course. “And besides, it’s an extremely competitive spot.”

Leia gasped softly, eyes lighting up. “Oh! If you do manage to get in, you’d be in Ben’s class! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Rey froze, smile faltering. “I… didn’t know that.”

Of course. That’s why he’d been so against it. Why he’d looked so smug about her “chances.”

Leia beamed with pride. “My Ben is the youngest professor—thirty-seven and already leading the department! Well, alongside Luke of course, but still!”

Rey blinked. Thirty-seven?

He didn’t look—well, not in that way.

“You’re thirty-seven?” she asked before she could help herself.

Ben’s brow arched, tone dry. “I am.”

“Ah.”

“…Do I not look thirty-seven?”

“…No.”

“…Would you like to elaborate?”

Rey’s mouth curved, a smirk tugging before she could stop it. “Not really.”

Han laughed into his glass, shaking his head. Leia smiled faintly, Luke hid a grin behind his napkin.

Ben, meanwhile, tightened his grip around his wineglass—his knuckles pale, his smile polite, but his eyes… his eyes were a dare.

“Good to know,” he said quietly, gaze holding hers just a second too long.

Han groaned as he leaned back and patted his stomach. “I don’t know how the hell you even get through half the stuff I see in his notes. I barely made it through Calculus before I started pretending I had the flu. Don’t know how I got my engineering degree. Don’t have that love for numbers like these guys…”

Rey laughed softly, the sound easing some of the static tension in her chest.

Ben’s fork clinked against his plate as he shifted. “Yes, well. Some minds are wired differently,” he said, tone clipped but controlled.

“God, yeah,” Han went on, completely missing the cue to stop. “That whole thing your grandfather came up with—the exponential… correlation? Whatever the hell it was. The one Anakin practically lost his marbles over?”

“Han,” Leia said quietly, but the warning in her voice came too late.

Ben’s jaw flexed, the muscle in his cheek ticking hard. His voice, when it came, was low, measured. “It’s called the Skywalker Exponential Principle. And he didn’t ‘lose his marbles.’”

Han blinked, fork halfway to his mouth. “I’m just saying, the guy was brilliant—changed half the way modern physics works, didn’t he? But he got… what’s the word—obsessive.”

Rey glanced between them, uncertain, catching that strange flicker of discomfort in Leia’s expression. “Wait—so your grandfather… he created new formulas in the math world?”

Luke smiled faintly. Ben didn’t.

“Yes,” he said simply, his tone too even to be casual.

“Wow,” Rey murmured. “He’s like… a genius.”

“Was,” Ben corrected. “And yes. Much more than that.”

The table went still for a beat. Even Chewie huffed softly in the corner, the sound oddly human.

Rey tilted her head slightly. “So… he really invented his own equations? The Skywalker Principle and… something else?”

Ben’s eyes flicked toward her, sharp and unreadable. “He did. Both still used today. And no one—not even Luke or I—has ever been able to fully replicate his methods.”

There was pride in his voice, but something else underneath. Something raw, unspoken, and a little dangerous.

Han chuckled, trying to break the tension. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s for the best. One genius losing his grip per family is enough, huh?”

Leia’s look could’ve frozen glass.

Rey’s gaze darted back to Ben. His knuckles had gone white around his wineglass. “He didn’t lose his grip,” Ben said, voice quiet but lethal. “He saw further than anyone else ever could.”

The silence that followed was heavy. You could hear the faint pop of the fire in the next room, the click of a clock, and nothing else.

Rey swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the intensity in Ben’s voice or the ache beneath it. The kind of ache that didn’t come from embarrassment or pride, but from inheritance. From carrying something you didn’t choose.

Han cleared his throat, muttering something about dessert.

Luke jumped on it, his tone too bright. “Right—dessert, yes. Leia, what did you make?”

Leia rose to fetch the plates, her hand brushing Ben’s shoulder briefly as she passed. He didn’t move.

Rey glanced at him one more time, just long enough to see the quiet storm in his eyes—rage, grief, reverence—all twisted together into something that made her heart beat too fast.

Dessert was good.

Too good.

The kind of good that made her sick, because everything—every damn thing—was perfect.

Leia’s pie. The soft jazz. The fire’s glow. Han’s laughter, Luke’s quiet contentment, Chewie’s slow, steady breathing. It was all so warm. So whole.

And none of it belonged to her.

Every tick of her phone felt like a flick of a rubber band against her skin.

19:58.

Two minutes.

Leia reached across the table, her hand soft and certain.

“Rey,” she said gently, “whatever the results show, you are welcome here. Anytime. Truly.”

Rey nodded, her throat locked.

“Yeah, kid,” Han added, waving his fork. “Who else am I gonna talk to about engines? Ben doesn’t know a carburetor from a fuel pump.”

“I do know—” Ben started.

“Yeah, yeah.” Han grinned. “Point is, you’re family either way.”

Family.

That word hit like a slap.

Luke turned to her, calm and kind. “You ready?”

Her pulse spiked.

He was holding his phone.

“Whatever happens,” he said softly, “it doesn’t change a thing.”

Sure it doesn’t, she thought, every muscle already locked.

He tapped the screen.

Scrolled.

Frowned slightly, squinting as the page loaded.

Her chair scraped back before she even knew she’d moved.

“Rey?” Luke called.

“I—sorry, I just—need a sec.”

She was halfway through the kitchen already, lungs burning, pulse a roar in her ears.

They’d know. The zeros would be there.

They’d see it and realize she’d never had even the slightest chance of belonging with them.

Her vision blurred as she hit the back door, fingers shaking on the latch.

You’re not his. You’re not anyone’s. You’re nothing. No one.

Her stomach twisted; bile rose.

She couldn’t stay and watch it fall apart.

Her hand closed around the doorknob—

and a firm grip caught her wrist, yanking her back hard.

She gasped, spinning—

Ben.

He’d followed her, chest heaving, hair disheveled, fury and confusion warring in his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. “Why are you running?”

“Let go, Solo!” she cried, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t fucking do this, okay? I’m not—I’m not his—”

“So what?” he shot back, his grip tightening. “Come back to the living room.”

“No!”

“Rey—”

“Let me go!” She shoved at him, wild, breath shaking.

He didn’t move. His jaw clenched; his voice broke lower, rougher. “Why the hell are you acting like this?”

“Because I can’t stand there and pretend!” she shouted, her words tumbling over themselves. “I can’t sit there and lie when—when—”

“Lie?” His tone sharpened. “What lie?”

“Ben, I—”

“Rey!” Leia’s voice, soft but panicked, carried from the hallway. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Han’s heavier footsteps followed. “Kid?”

But Ben still hadn’t released her. His eyes searched hers—angry, confused, something else flickering behind it. Fear, maybe.

And then—

“Rey…”

Luke’s voice. Calm, soft, but still cutting through everything.

The room froze.

Ben’s hand fell away.

Luke stood in the doorway, phone in one hand, tears in his eyes that weren’t sad—just bright, almost glowing.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

And opened his arms.

Rey couldn’t move.

“Rey,” he whispered again, voice trembling on the edge of joy. “You’re my daughter.”

For a second, her brain couldn’t even form words.

“What?” she breathed.

He held out the phone.

The screen glowed, bright and damning.

Match Probability: 99.88 %.

She blinked. Once. Twice. The numbers didn’t change.

Leia let out a sound that was half sob, half laughter. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes shining.

“Oh, Luke…”

Han swore softly under his breath and grinned. “I’ll be damned.” He gave a short, rough laugh and shook his head. “Knew it. I told you, Leia—I told you.”

Luke just looked at her like she was something found.

Something precious.

Her body went weightless.

No zeros.

No error message.

Just that number.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until Luke’s arms were around her, warm and steady, his hand at the back of her head.

Ben stood a few feet away, silent. He took the phone, stared at the result, and then lifted his gaze to her—slow, deliberate.

“You…” his voice cracked slightly. “…you’re his daughter.”

Rey’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t disbelief in his tone.

It was something deeper—something that sounded a lot like loss.

And Rey, trembling in Luke’s arms, could only stare back—

because somehow, against every law of logic and blood and truth—

her lie had lived.

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Agneska on Chapter 1 Thu 09 Oct 2025 10:34PM UTC

💚💚💚💚

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Holdo77 on Chapter 1 Fri 10 Oct 2025 06:21AM UTC

What a way to make a first impression! Two of them I guess!

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Viedelamort on Chapter 1 Fri 10 Oct 2025 07:10AM UTC

Oh man I related to the vanilla bodyspray growing up. I can't wait to see how this story goes.

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PoorQueequeg on Chapter 1 Sun 26 Oct 2025 11:41AM UTC

Oh my goodness I had no idea you had a cousin story and I AM HERE FOR THIS!

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Agneska on Chapter 2 Fri 10 Oct 2025 09:25PM UTC

💚💚💚💚

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(Previous comment deleted.)
1. Holdo77 on Chapter 2 Sat 11 Oct 2025 08:11AM UTC
  
  LOL! This is so textbook AI! 🤣🤣🤣🤣
  
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2. 1. (Previous comment deleted.)
  2. 1. Holdo77 on Chapter 2 Mon 13 Oct 2025 06:48PM UTC
      
      🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
      
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Holdo77 on Chapter 2 Sat 11 Oct 2025 08:10AM UTC

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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BethanyKey on Chapter 2 Sat 11 Oct 2025 08:16PM UTC

Oooh can’t wait for the rest, I love when solo meets his match!

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PoorQueequeg on Chapter 2 Sun 26 Oct 2025 11:45AM UTC

Yassss I love it!

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Agneska on Chapter 3 Fri 10 Oct 2025 09:03PM UTC

Thank you for the update. 💚

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1. ziva2204 on Chapter 3 Fri 10 Oct 2025 09:18PM UTC
  
  💜💜💜
  
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PoorQueequeg on Chapter 3 Sun 26 Oct 2025 11:48AM UTC

Gosh I enjoy the snippy bickering and unconscious attraction. Ben tries to make it up with her and she calls him Solo. So great.

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Agneska on Chapter 4 Mon 13 Oct 2025 08:02PM UTC

Thank you for the update. 💚

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Wizard1022 on Chapter 4 Mon 13 Oct 2025 11:36PM UTC

Love it but Rey needs to be more mean to Ben 💕

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Holdo77 on Chapter 4 Tue 14 Oct 2025 08:14AM UTC

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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PoorQueequeg on Chapter 4 Sun 26 Oct 2025 12:02PM UTC

I totally get Bens position and it’s actually good he cares about Luke to watch out for him. And I just love the angst and Ben and Rey scrapping and bickering and her saying, fuck you solo gives me life.

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amichaton on Chapter 5 Mon 13 Oct 2025 09:56PM UTC

Hmmm, I wonder why Ben comes across as disgusted or in denial about being related to Rey. Hmmmm 🍆🍑 lol

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1. ziva2204 on Chapter 5 Mon 13 Oct 2025 10:12PM UTC
  
  🤭
  
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BethanyKey on Chapter 5 Mon 13 Oct 2025 11:49PM UTC

Yessss 2 chapters in one day lol. Are you going incorporate a sugar daddy dynamic in their relationship? I really want to see a devoted head over heels Ben, but as always your writing is amazing!

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Viedelamort on Chapter 5 Tue 14 Oct 2025 05:25AM UTC

Ben is already whipped lol

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pixiefairydust on Chapter 5 Tue 14 Oct 2025 11:39PM UTC

I cannot wait to read more!!

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PoorQueequeg on Chapter 5 Sun 26 Oct 2025 12:11PM UTC

I love their tension so much, and tho you said it isn’t the case, part of me wishes Luke was Reys father so the pair of them could at least have that.

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