"Dear, wake up."
I can feel it,
the gentle tapping against my skin. A warm but distant touch. A voice, too soft to be alarming, but persistent enough to pull me from the depths of sleep.
A tired sigh escapes my lips.
Oh God.
The words roll out of my mouth in a breathy mumble as my eyes flutter open, adjusting to the blurry vision before me.
It's Morning.
A blinding brightness floods my room, and I don't need to guess who's responsible for this unwanted intrusion.
The wide open curtains let in the unforgiving sunlight, piercing into my barely awakened state. Only one person would do such a thing.
From across the room, I sense a familiar presence, a soft smile moving toward me.
"Hello, baby. How have you been?"
Mrs. Edwards. My adopted Mom.
Her voice, though still angelic in its own way, carries a hint of exhaustion, an underlying weariness that seeps through her carefully measured tone.
She steps closer, her arms reaching out for a hug I already know I won't return.
I feel the coldness of her skin as she wraps them around me, but I remain still.
Expressionless. Unmoved.
I no longer know how to fake a smile around them.
I no longer know when I stopped trying.
Affection, it used to come naturally once, didn't it?
But now? It feels foreign, like a distant memory that no longer belongs to me.
"I guess the body knows when something is off."
Dan's voice echoes in my head, a reminder of conversations past. I hear him clearly,
his words laced with an understanding that no one else seems to grasp.
A rush of warmth spreads through me as memories of us surface, his lips on mine, the way he makes me feel alive in ways no one else does.
Dan.
I can't wait to see him today. Just the thought of him fills me with an unexpected energy, making my body feel lighter.
I throw the covers off and move towards the bathroom, my mind already preparing for the day ahead when—
The door swings open again, Dad strolls into my room.
Immediately, I sense it. Something is off.
His presence, combined with Mom's, weighs heavily in the air.
A feeling of unease creeps in, clawing at my skin.
They look... older today. More tired.
The lines on their faces seem deeper, the shadows under their eyes darker.
I don't need to ask to know why.
The search for their lost son.
A part of me used to care. Deeply.
I used to wait for updates, hoping, praying that some news would come, that they'd find him, that this nightmare would finally end.
But now?
Now, I care less.
Because finding him means losing me.
Dad's voice breaks the silence.
"Your school principal has been trying to reach out to us, Helen."
I say nothing to that.
I barely react as I begin applying toothpaste to my toothbrush, my face unreadable in the bathroom mirror.
"Yeah," I finally mumble.
"So... any idea what it might be about?" Dad asks, his tone slow, tired.
He crosses his legs, making himself comfortable. Mom places her phone down, watching me closely.
"She says it's very important," she adds. "Something about your academics."
I freeze for a fraction of a second.
They already know.
Then why ask me?
The anger simmers beneath my skin, bubbling up before I can stop it.
I turn to them, my voice sharp.
"I don't know. Maybe it would be nice to grace her with your presence."
Without another word, I march into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I hear Dad calling my name, his tone laced with irritation.
Mom, ever the peacekeeper, mutters something about me still being a child.
Yeah, I think bitterly as I spit into the sink, scrubbing my tongue aggressively.
' Achild with no regard for her mental state'.
Then I hear it.
Dad's voice, lower, edged with frustration.
"I mean, we already spend so much money on her. Did she think the scholarship was entirely free?"
Mom sighs. "We should at least try and see the principal."
I grip the sink, my knuckles turning white.
Then the sound of footsteps retreating. The door closing.
All I hear is silence.
I turn on the shower, letting the hot water run over my body, letting it scald away the frustration, the exhaustion, the everything.
The tears sting before I even realize they're there.
Why does everything always have to be about them?
Why does no one stop to ask why I feel the way I do?
I stay under the water longer than usual, allowing myself this rare moment of vulnerability before I gather the shattered pieces of my composure.
By the time I step out, my phone pings with a message.
It's from Selena, asking where I was
"Where are you??"
I dry my hands and type back.
"Just got out of the shower."
The response is instant.
"We're being assigned into tutorial groups. Come ASAP."
I roll my eyes.
Of course. Another forced interaction, another meaningless attempt by the school to make us "bond."
I slip into my black skimpy gown, the fabric hugging my curves in all the right places. The long black leggings add just the right touch of mystery, a contrast of elegance and allure.
To finish it off, I slide into a pair of nude heels, something about the soft tone against the dark outfit makes me feel effortlessly put together.
My curls spill freely over my shoulders, cascading in soft waves. I smooth down my edges with gel, securing them into place with careful precision. A spritz of my vanilla scented perfume lingers in the air, settling onto my skin like a second layer of confidence.
Next, I dust on some brown powder, evening out my complexion, and finish with a swipe of lip gloss. It glides on smoothly, catching the light with a subtle sheen.
One last look in the mirror.
I tilt my head, assessing myself. Perfect.
Dan won't be able to resist me today.
The thought alone sends a chuckle past my lips.
As I step outside, my ride is already waiting. I grab a few snacks from the counter, stuffing them into my purse before slipping into the car. The scent of my perfume fills the space as I roll down the window, letting the crisp air blend with the warm vanilla notes.
The drive is smooth, the streets alive with the usual city noise, but my mind is elsewhere, on him.
When I finally step into the class, I feel it instantly.
The shift.
Heads turn, eyes trailing after me, whispers following in my wake.
I walk with purpose, my posture straight, my heels clicking softly against the tile floor. My gaze sweeps over the room before locking onto the one pair of eyes that matter most.
Dan.
He's already looking at me.
His expression is unreadable at first, but then, just barely, I catch it.
The flicker of something deep and unspoken.
Want? Maybe even longing.
A satisfied smile tugs at my lips.
Sabrina isn't with him today.
I knew they wouldn't last long. I knew she was just a distraction, a temporary storm trying to shake something that was built to last.
Across the room, I smirk as I meet her gaze.
No smugness today. No cocky smirk from her.
She stares, unblinking. If looks could kill, I'd be dead already.
I can hear the whispers around me, my name slipping past lips in hushed tones, but I don't care.
Dan is still watching me.
And that's all that matters.
I slide into my seat next to Selena, who doesn't even glance up from her phone.
Her fingers fly across the screen, no doubt messaging her long-distance boyfriend for the hundredth time today, I suppose.
I shove her shoulder playfully.
"Hey."
She grins, finally looking up.
"Damn, you look good today."
I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "I feel good." I say to Selena
My gaze flickers back to Dan, just for a second. But it's enough.
Selena follows my line of sight.
She gasps, nearly dropping her phone. "No way. Don't tell me you two made up?"
A slow, wide smile spreads across my lips.
"Yeah. We did. He came over, and we talked it out."
Selena snorts, rolling her eyes.
"You mean after you called and begged him a thousand times?"
I shoot her a sharp glare.
She leans back, raising her hands in defense. "Hey, just saying."
I huff, crossing my arms. "What matters is that we made up."
Before she can respond, I feel it.
A presence looming over me.
I look up.
Dom Bells.
The smirk on his face is unmistakable—too familiar, too deliberate. It's the same one he wore the other day, the same one that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. A
I tell myself it's nothing, just an expression, just a quirk of his lips. But my body betrays me—my stomach twists,