Isabelle chewed her food slowly, methodically, her gaze fixed on her notebook as if the formulas scribbled on the page could anchor her thoughts. But no matter how much she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting sideways—back to the presence beside her.
Damien Elford sat with the kind of casual disregard that would've made her bristle any other day. He leaned slightly into the desk, his elbow propped up, fork in hand, slowly working through his lunch as if nothing in the world could truly bother him. There was no stiffness in his posture, no flicker of awkwardness or shame. Just a quiet, nonchalant rhythm to his movements that felt almost... settled.
And that was what bothered her the most.
She had heard everything. Every word that passed through the classroom door before she'd stepped in. Kaine's voice still echoed in her head—sharp, cruel, blisteringly honest in the way betrayal always was. Ezra's lazy chuckles. Moren's seething silence.
