So, you were fooling me all along?" he said with a disappointed smile, his voice laced with sarcasm.

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Where did you find that victim card? I want one too," she replied, her tone deliberately playful, trying to embarrass him.

He let out a long sigh, his expression darkening. "You’ve been brainwashed, love..."

"Don’t you dare call me that," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. Her gaze flickered briefly to the boy standing across the room, then back to him. "Do you see the boy over there? He’s my..."

"My what?" He took a deliberate step toward her, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

She stood her ground, her pulse quickening as she met his gaze. She was fearless, but the tension between them stirred something inside her, something she couldn’t fully control. "M-my boyfriend," she stammered, her voice faltering but still defiant.

He smirked, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Still, you can't call anyone else your love, my love," he said, his voice low and husky, a touch of possessiveness seeping through.

Her finger hovered in the air, pointed at him, as if she could somehow ward him off. But before she could speak, she felt a rush of heat at her ear. Her breath caught as his lips brushed just behind it, sending a shiver down her spine. "My love," he murmured softly, "You’re not in a state to understand this... but we’ll talk later." He paused, his hand gripping her wrist with a firm, almost comforting touch. "For now, come with me."

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Before she could react, he was already pulling her along, his grip possessive but not unkind. She followed, her mind spinning. His touch still lingered on her skin, leaving her numb and confused. The way he could bend her so easily, making her feel both weak and alive, unsettled her. Was this submission? Or something else?

As they walked, the weight of his presence pressed in on her, and despite every instinct telling her to pull away, she found herself unable to resist. She was helpless, caught between defiance and desire.

He led her into the room without a word, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in her ears. The air was thick, charged with an unspoken tension. She halted just a few steps in, her arms crossing defensively.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demanded, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a mix of defiance and unease.

His lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as he turned to face her. “To give you exactly what you want,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. Slowly, he began closing the distance between them.

Her eyes narrowed. “Woaah, so you’re back to this game again? Faking personalities? Twisting truths? You’re pretty good at it, aren’t you?” Her tone was confident, but the slight tremor betrayed the war between her fear and determination.

He didn’t respond, his gaze locked on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For every step he took forward, she instinctively took one back, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

“You think you know me so well,” he murmured, his voice almost hypnotic.

Her back hit the edge of the bed, the impact stealing her balance. She gasped as she fell backward, but before she could fully hit the mattress, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. The sudden motion sent them both tumbling onto the bed, his weight pressing down on her as they landed in a tangled heap.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Her breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs as she found herself staring up into his eyes—closer than she’d ever been before. His expression was unreadable, his gaze flickering between her eyes and lips, a storm of emotions roiling beneath his calm exterior.

“You should really stop pretending you don’t feel it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, a mixture of challenge and something deeper.

She swallowed hard, trying to muster a retort, but her words failed her. The air between them was heavy, charged with something she couldn’t quite name—a pull, an undeniable force.

And in that moment, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to fight him or herself more.

Aria Carrington

 Aria, wake up! It’s your first day of college, and you want to be late already?"

"Ughhh… I’m awake. Just give me five minutes, at least make me some tea in the meantime."

"Fine, but hurry up!"

Good morning to myself. Everything in my life isn’t perfect—I know that. It’s not the worst, either, but some things feel so out of place. I guess I’m just a miserable kid with a short temper and a tendency to get irritated easily. My parents are supportive—there’s no doubt about that—but they struggle to keep up with this modern world. It’s not their fault, though. They are who they are because of how they were raised. Maybe they aren’t really like this but just pretend to be, so I can stay focused on my studies instead of getting distracted by the outside world."

Their intentions were good, but somewhere along the way, it felt more like a curse for my mental health than a blessing. But today, a new chapter begins, and I don’t want to dwell on the bad times. I’m looking forward to good things, things I won’t regret later.

Still, it’s hard. Some wounds haven’t healed, and one incident in particular broke me. But I’m trying to pull myself together. Today is a fresh start—a new day, a new place. High time to move on, Aria.

_____________

"Is my tea ready?"

"Yes, come and get it."

She took a sip. "Mmm, nice. Where’s Dad?"

"He’s reading the newspaper over there."

"Good morning, Dad!"

"Good morning, bro!"

"Why do you call me ‘bro’ and not by my name? I mean, I like it, but is there a reason?"

"We don’t take the name of the eldest child in our home," he chuckled.

"But I’m your only child, Dad."

"Still, you’re the eldest, aren’t you?"

"Yes… Never mind," she laughed.

"Did you iron my dress again? Thank you."

"I’ve been doing that since you started school. Nothing new."

"I know, but still."

She hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek to his.

"All the best for today."

"Thank youuuu!"

_______

Here I was, standing in front of my college after all the hard work it took to get here. "Please, God, don’t make my first day miserable. Please."

I was early—thanks to Dad’s perpetual advice to leave extra time for unexpected delays on the road. I arrived an hour before the staff had even fully assembled. Ugh.

Wandering around the campus, I spotted a dance hall. A flood of memories hit me, and I struggled to breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself, a routine I’d perfected since he left.

"Why am I thinking about him again? Forget it, Aria. Move on," I muttered to myself.

As the minutes ticked by, students began to arrive. The bell for my first period was about to ring, so I started walking briskly toward my class, which was in the opposite corridor. No way was I running and making a spectacle of myself on the first day.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice my surroundings. I suddenly found myself in the middle of a huge crowd of boys—it was near the boys' washroom, of course. My chest tightened. Crowds, especially of boys, made my anxiety spike.The noise—laughter, shoes scuffing, voices overlapping—became deafening. My breathing grew shallow, and my vision blurred. My legs felt like lead, refusing to move.

"Not again, Aria," I scolded myself. "Stop thinking about that incident."

Just as I was trying to ground myself, a sudden shove broke my paralysis. Someone had collided with me, nearly falling in the process. I instinctively grabbed him to steady him.

"Thank you," he said, regaining his balance.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, no need to apologize. But thank you again. It’s my first day, and I’m really excited!"

"Excuse me?" I snapped, irritated.

"I said, thank you—"

"No, I mean, repeat what you just said. I didn’t hear you properly."

"How rude," he muttered and walked off.

"Is every boy like this?" I sighed.

A glance at my watch snapped me out of my thoughts—only two minutes until class started. "Run, run, run!" I weaved through the crowd and made it to my classroom just in time.

 _______________

Inside the classroom, I spotted Ivy, the girl I had met during orientation. She waved enthusiastically, signaling for me to join her. I nodded, relieved to see a familiar face. She was seated on the fourth bench in the middle row—a sweet spot, neither too close to the teacher nor far enough to be a backbencher.

As I slid into the seat next to her, Ivy launched into conversation, her energy pulling me out of my anxious haze. She shared stories about her morning, her family, and her first impressions of the college. I engaged with her, sharing just enough to keep the conversation going but holding back anything too personal. I wasn’t looking for close friendships—not after everything I’d been through.

While she spoke, my mind wandered back to my own thoughts, replaying the morning’s events and lingering memories.

"Aria, are you even listening to me?" Ivy asked suddenly, snapping me back to reality.

"Yes, yes," I blurted out, trying to sound convincing.

"Really? Then what did I just say?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

My mind raced for an answer, guilt prickling at the edges of my thoughts. I was about to fumble for an excuse when, thankfully, the lecturer walked in. Saved by the bell—or, in this case, by the professor.

The class began with the usual introductions—names, aspirations, and other first-day formalities. It was mundane but comforting, giving me a chance to collect myself.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

Aria's POV

“Ray Sinclair,” someone murmured from behind me. Curious, I turned around, only to see a tall, masculine guy with messy hair explaining his ambitions. But my attention got stuck elsewhere—Sinclair sounded way too much like eclair. I know, it’s childish to laugh at someone’s name, but Mr. Eclair? The irony is, I’m allergic to eclairs! One bite, and I’m down with a cold and cough. Hilarious, right?

To make things more absurd, the guy sitting next to him was Elio—yes, the same guy who called me rude. He had this grating voice, talking about his aspirations like anyone was dying to hear it. Honestly, no one cared.

______________

Ray's POV

When my turn came, I introduced myself, and the girl sitting ahead of me suddenly turned and started staring. It wasn’t unusual for a girl to look at me, but something about this one—Miss Aria Carrington, or as my mind immediately dubbed her, Miss Carry—was unsettling. She was laughing, and I couldn’t figure out why. Did I say something wrong?

Later, when Elio was done describing himself, I leaned in and asked, “Did I say something stupid enough for her to laugh at?”

He smirked and said, “Oh, her? That’s the same girl I bumped into this morning. She was standing near the boys’ washroom, acting all rude. Who even does that? Maybe she’s the kind who stares at boys or something.”

I wanted to defend her, but why should I? Elio’s my childhood friend, and she’s just a stranger. But still, why was I thinking about Miss Carry so much? Me and my mindless thoughts…

Suddenly, someone called out in the most annoying voice on the planet. “Hellooowww, Ray!” Of course, it was Marie.

“Hiii, Marie. How are you?” I replied, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine. But you’ve stopped talking to me and barely even look at me now. Did I do something wrong?” she asked in the cheesiest tone imaginable.

I didn’t even bother listening; my attention was drawn to a muffled laugh nearby. Still, I replied, “Oh, no, Marie, I’ve just been… busy.”

In my head, though, I was screaming, No, Marie, I’m ignoring you on purpose! What kind of glue are you using to stick to me this much?

Marie, oblivious, said, “Okay, I’ll be sitting over there. If you need anything, just ask, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said with fake enthusiasm.

Elio leaned over, smirking. “Looks like someone needs help, huh?”

“Shut it, Elio. I don’t like her. I just tolerate her because she’s my neighbor. Honestly, if you’re interested, just tell her and save me the trouble.”

“No way, man. I’m good being single,” Elio chuckled.

Meanwhile, laughter from somewhere continued, probably directed at my awkward encounter with Marie. The professor had stepped out for some formalities, giving everyone the freedom to chatter.

Aria’s POV

The conversations going on behind me were downright hilarious. I was trying to control my laughter, but how could I? For the first time, I saw a guy ignoring a girl’s blatant flirting. Usually, girls only flirt when they’re welcomed, but this? This was new.

Ivy, sitting beside me, sighed. “The professor is taking forever to come back. It’s so boring.”

“Let’s take pictures!” I suggested. She agreed, and we clicked a bunch of selfies. But then I noticed something odd—Mr. Eclair and his friend were peeping into our photos.

I turned and shot them a look, but Elio didn’t hold back. “And what about you eavesdropping on our conversations and laughing? Hypocrite much?”

I felt slightly embarrassed but brushed it off. I’m not the type to stay silent. To my surprise, Ivy wasn’t either. “We can’t exactly shut our ears, blud,” she retorted.

Ray jumped in, “And we can’t move our seats, so maybe take your pictures from an angle where we’re not in them.”

I was about to reply when, the professor walked in. Part of me wanted to thank him for saving me from the brewing argument, but another part of me wished he hadn’t interrupted. I had a killer comeback ready.

The day unspooled in moments—laughter echoing through the hallways, sneakers squeaking against the polished floors, and the steady hum of first-day nerves that felt oddly comforting. Between Ivy snapping selfies and my accidental clash of words with Mr. Eclair and his friend, I found myself smiling more than I expected.

The argument wasn’t exactly a fight, but the kind of sharp exchange that left my cheeks warm and my mind replaying it in loops. A satisfying thrill hummed under the surface, like I’d won a game I hadn’t planned on playing. College wasn’t perfect, but it felt alive—messy and chaotic, yet strangely full of promise.

Right now, though, I just want to crash somewhere—anywhere that feels comfortable enough to rest. Not necessarily home, because let’s be real, home can be a bit of a drag sometimes. Comfortable? Sure. But it sucks the life out of me too often. I just need a moment to breathe.

But I don’t really have that kind of place, so for now, my escape is simple: me, my bed, my earpods, Spotify, and the notes where I pour my soul into poems. It’s not much, but it’s mine—a little corner of calm in the chaos, where I can breathe, reflect, and let the world melt away for a while.