Callum Reed believed in small joys -- warm coffee, pressed flowers in his books, and finding the quietest seat in the lecture hall before anyone else arrived. It made him feel like he belonged, even in a world built for the rich and ruthless.

𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑈𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 wasn't exactly friendly to scholarship students. Especially not to Omegas who kept their head down and their voices soft.

So when Callum pushed open the door to 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡 204 twenty minutes early and found someone already sitting in his favorite back-row corner seat, he faltered.

The man didn't move.

He was dressed in black from hoodie to boots, slouched like royalty with no throne, and had the kind of energy that sucked the sound out of the room.

𝐑𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞.

Callum recognized him immediately -- everyone did. The Vale family practically 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑑 the east wing of campus. Rhett didn't talk. Didn't party. Didn't date. People whispered about bodyguards and backgrounds checks and things disappeared when he got bored of them.

Rumors called him 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚.

Callum had hoped never to be within twenty feet of him.

Yet here he was.

Still, the professor's seating chart was posted, and his name -- 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐝 -- was clearly marked right next to 𝐑𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞.

𝑂ℎ 𝑛𝑜.

Callum took a breath and approached carefully, like one might approach a wild animal.

"Um...hi," he offered, standing awkwardly beside the desk. " Sorry. I think we're partners for the semester project."

Rhett didn't look up.

Callum glanced around -- empty classroom, silence heavy. "So, um, I'm Callum. Nice to meet you?"

Still no answer.

Callum fidgeted with the strap of his satchel. " I ----- I can sit somewhere else if you'd rather not ---"

A voice cut through the air like cold steel.

"Sit down."

Callum blinked.

Not rude. Not warm. Just an order. Flat and final.

He obeyed.

The next few minutes passed in awkward silence. Callum scribbled his schedule in the margin of his planner. Rhett stared straight ahead like the desk was a battlefield. Not a word. Not a glance.

Callum tried not to fidget.

When the professor entered and began the introduction to the semester's group psychological profiles project, Callum peeked sideways.

Rhett was still unreadable.

But his hand moved --- pulling out a notebook, black as his hoodie, and flipping it open with calm precision.

Callum looked away.

Later that day, when Callum finally opened his own notebook in the library, a small piece of folded paper fluttered out.

No name. Just three words:

| 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞.

His hands went cold.

He looked around. No one was watching. No sign of where it had come from.

But the handwriting?

Sharp. Clean. Controlled.

Exactly like the man sitting beside him in Psych 204.

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Hello guys!

This is your author Arya. Nice too meet all of you. Hope you enjoy this journey of Callum and Rhett together with me.

Till the time byee and take care.

.......-\`ღ´-.......

Callum wasn’t sure if the note was meant as a threat, a joke, or some kind of cryptic mafia-flavored icebreaker.

He kept it.

Pressed it flat between the pages of his notebook and stared at it in the library until the clock ticked past midnight. The words weren’t romantic—but they made his heart flutter anyway.

Don’t trust anyone.

It was either incredibly paranoid… or heartbreakingly honest.

The next lecture, Callum arrived exactly on time—early felt too desperate, late felt like surrender.

Rhett was already there.

Same posture. Same hoodie. Same stillness.

Callum hesitated, then sat beside him without a word.

He caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Rhett’s hand paused over his notes.

"...You came back," Rhett muttered under his breath, just low enough that Callum nearly missed it.

Callum turned, startled. "Was I not supposed to?"

No response. Just a sideways glance. Cold, unreadable eyes.

Then: “You’re not like the others.”

Callum blinked. “That’s… not a compliment, is it?”

A silence followed. And then—so faint it might have been imagined—Rhett’s lips twitched.

A nearly-smile.

Later that day, Callum did something reckless. Reckless for someone soft. Someone who listened more than he spoke.

He baked.

Because that’s what he did when emotions ran high—muffins, cookies, banana bread.

This time? Chocolate chip.

He wrapped one in napkin, tucked it in a little paper pouch, and sealed it with a blue sticker that said "Thank you."

It wasn’t for anything in particular.

Just… for the note. For not being cruel. For maybe, possibly not hating him.

The next day, before class started, Callum placed the cookie on Rhett’s desk without a word.

Rhett stared at it like it was a grenade.

“What is this,” he said flatly.

“A cookie,” Callum replied.

Rhett looked at it again. “Why?”

Callum flushed. “Because I thought you might be the kind of person who hasn’t had a homemade one in a long time.”

More silence. Measured. Stifling.

Then, with that same clinical slowness, Rhett picked up the cookie, broke it in half, and took a bite.

He chewed. Swallowed.

Then, almost inaudibly: “…Not bad.”

Callum smiled.

That was the first time Rhett didn’t look away.

That evening, when Callum returned to his dorm, there was another note folded between the pages of his notebook.

This one said:

|“Next time—less sugar.”

And beneath that, smaller:

|“But I finished it.”

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

This is it for today. Hope you like it. Like, Comment, Share and Subscribe. I will be honored to get support from you guys. Let's meet again in the next chapter of '𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔' where we'll get to know a little more about Callum and Rhett's relationship.

Do tell me if you want longer chapters, I will try to get everything in line and make the story unforgettable for all of us.

Thank you .

.......-\`ღ´-.......

(Callum’s POV)

Rain fell in steady sheets outside the dorm window, the kind that blurred everything into watercolor. Callum liked it—liked how the world softened at the edges.

He sat cross-legged on his bed, notebook open, pen still, but his thoughts weren’t on his assignment. They were on him.

Rhett Vale.

Tall. Distant. Staring like he knew all your secrets and judged none. Or maybe he judged all of them. Callum hadn’t figured him out yet.

Their last encounter in the library wasn’t exactly friendly, but it also hadn’t been cold. There was something else—something electric in the silence between them, something Callum kept replaying no matter how hard he tried to focus.

A soft knock jolted him.

He opened the door to find Rhett, damp from the rain, hoodie pulled low over his eyes.

“Hi,” Callum said, confused but not unhappy.

Rhett looked down the hallway once, then back at Callum. “You left this.” He held out a book—Callum’s annotated copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Callum blinked. “Oh. Thanks. I didn’t realize I—wait, how did you...?”

“I saw it on your table in the library. You left fast.”

Callum took the book, heart beating weirdly in his chest. “Yeah, I, um... didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“You weren’t.”

Silence. The hallway echoed with distant laughter and the muffled thunder of rain.

“You want to come in?” Callum asked, surprising even himself.

Rhett didn’t answer immediately. Then he nodded once and stepped inside, water dotting his boots.

Callum’s dorm was warm, small, and cluttered with books and tea mugs. It smelled faintly of vanilla and pages. Rhett stood near the window, arms crossed, staring out at the storm.

“Didn’t think you were the type to return books,” Callum said, trying to keep his tone light.

“I’m not. But I read it first.”

That made Callum turn. “You read it?”

“I like Wilde. He’s dramatic, but honest.”

Callum’s lips twitched into a smile. “And what do you think of Dorian?”

Rhett met his eyes, gaze unreadable. “He reminds me of people who pretend they’re hollow. Like if they act heartless long enough, they can make it true.”

Callum swallowed, throat dry. “You don’t think it works?”

“No. You can’t kill a heart that still wants.”

Something in that sentence made Callum sit down, legs giving a little.

“Do you—” he began, then stopped himself. But Rhett had already turned back to the rain.

“You don’t talk like most people here,” Rhett said quietly.

“Too soft?” Callum asked, smiling a little.

Rhett shook his head. “Too real.”

There was a long, quiet moment after that. The kind that fills the air between two people who haven’t decided whether they’re strangers or something more.

Then Rhett stepped back, hoodie dripping, and pulled the door open.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, voice low.

Callum nodded, heart twisting. “Yeah.”

But just before he disappeared into the hallway, Rhett paused.

“You can interrupt me next time. I won’t mind.”

And then he was gone.

Callum stared at the door for a long time.

Outside, the rain kept falling—but now, it sounded like a promise.

End of Chapter 3

Hii. This is your author here, I just wanted to know if you are liking the story or not. Do like and comment.