The sound of her phone buzzing filled the quiet room.

Elara didn’t look at it.

She’d silenced Cassian’s number a few days ago—right after that bizarre visit from his family. The conversation had played on repeat in her mind ever since. A woman dressed like grace itself had smiled sweetly while implying she back off. Her words might have sounded polite, but Elara had lived long enough to recognize a line drawn in silk.

She wasn’t naive.

They thought she was a gold-digger. An inconvenience. A girl playing out of her league.

And the part that stung more than anything?

Cassian hadn’t denied any of it.

He hadn’t told her he was interested. Hadn’t confessed anything directly. He just… let them come.

And now?

Silence.

She tucked the blankets tighter around herself, glaring at the ceiling. Her phone buzzed again.

Her curiosity finally cracked. She reached over, opened it.

Group chat: “Everhart Sightings 👀”

> Photo uploaded

“Is this Cassian Rhys?! Outside of campus housing?! 👀👀👀”

Her heart stopped.

The image wasn’t clear, taken at night from across the street, but the outline was unmistakable. Cassian. Standing at the entrance of her building.

How…?

Who had taken it?

And more importantly… who knew enough to post it?

A cold shiver ran down her spine. Her life had been quiet, ordinary. People didn’t take photos of her, let alone stalk her building.

She exited the group, muted notifications, and buried her face in her hands.

This is too much.

If the world was already watching her without knowing the full story—what would happen if they found out the rest?

That she was the girl Cassian had been searching for?

That they were talking?

That his mother had visited her like she was a problem to solve?

No. She couldn’t handle this kind of attention. She didn’t want to.

Her thumb hovered over his name in her messages. No unread texts. Just the last one she sent, short and neutral.

> “Got home. Thanks.”

That was all. And he hadn't pushed since.

Still, her chest ached. It wasn’t just fear making her pull away—it was the confusion. The overwhelming doubt that none of this was real.

Did he even like her…? Or was it all just some weird… emotional guilt?

Her breath trembled.

Maybe it was better to end it before it began.

She locked her phone and sat in silence.

But silence was no longer peaceful—it was sharp, like the calm before a thunderstorm.

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