I arrived at the usual place where I meet Oliver, but... he didn't look like Oliver. Even the wind forgot how to move. The sky stood still, and the birds had gone silent. Everything was too quiet.

He stood there—tense. His eyes weren't on me. They were empty, staring at nothing.

"What, you're not counting the seconds I'm late anymore?" I tried to break the silence.

"Sorry? What did you say?" He spoke in a detached, robotic tone.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh... yeah. I'm fine." But his voice was dry. His jaw clenched. His fingers trembled.

Something in me pulled tight.

He stepped closer—like a quiet danger moving without sound. He looked like he was trying to hold back a storm. But the storm had already broken inside him.

"If you're not upset, why did you say I'm annoying? It sounds like you were already upset before I arrived."

His eyes darkened.

He dropped his hand from my face. I drew in a shaky breath.

"I just wanted to understand what's going on with you," I whispered, tears spilling before I could stop them.

He almost reached to wipe them—but stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed my hand, and without a word, transported us.

The world spun. Instantly, I found myself in the gym again. But this time, he didn't hold me steady. I lost my balance and almost fell. Coldness replaced where his grip had been.

"Maybe he doesn't want me anymore," I thought.

"Okay. You need to create a bubble. Or a water droplet." He spoke in a clipped voice. Almost unrecognizable.

"How do I do that?" I tried to stay calm.

"Maybe try doing one thing without me telling you. How about that?"

I closed my eyes and raised my hand. He clapped three times.

"Wow. Congratulations. You can do one and a half things."

When I opened my eyes, a small sphere of water hovered above my palm. I smiled—for the first time, I felt like I was succeeding.

I tried to move it—to splash him, lighten the mood. But something went wrong.

Before I could react, his hand was around my throat.

Cold fingertips burned against my skin. A sharp metallic scent filled my nose.

My heart slammed like a hammer against a locked door. My chest heaved in strangled bursts.

His voice dropped—lower, deeper.

He wasn't Oliver anymore.

"Stupid girl," he hissed.

And in his eyes, there wasn't rage. There was something else. Something foreign. As if someone else were looking through him.

And in my head, another voice whispered—maybe his, maybe not: "I can give you pain, if that's what you're after."

No sound came from my mouth. Only burning.

The world narrowed to the pressure of his fingers around my neck.

Oliver had always been harsh and always pushed me—but this? This was different. Too sharp. Too cold.

The Oliver who once laughed after drenching me with water is no longer here.

Now, I wasn't a warrior. Or a student.

Just a girl.

No voice. No strength. No air.

Maybe if I had just looked him in the eye—maybe he would have come back to himself.

The floor's cold seeped into my back.

If this were his way of making me stronger, then he no longer recognized my worth.

His eyes flickered. And instantly—he let go.

I collapsed, coughing. My hand flew to my neck. The world blurred. My pulse raced. There was rust in my mouth.

"I don't know what that was," I whispered. "But that wasn't him. Or maybe it was—and he crossed a line."

He reached to help me; I pushed him away.

I pulled out my phone. I'm sorry. We will have to reschedule.

Maybe he just lost control. Maybe one moment doesn't erase everything he's been. But something inside me splintered. I didn't know if I could ever trust him again.

He grabbed the edge of my shirt—and transported us again. This time, to the parking lot.

I staggered toward my car. But then I felt a gaze.

I turned to Jace.

My heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen Oliver. He only saw me.

But then his eyes shifted past me—and I knew that everything had changed.

His gaze cut through me—not with anger, but with disappointment.

"Running from the truth again?" His voice was cold.

My hand flew to my neck. Too late. He had already seen.

"Who did that to you?"

"Drop it, Jace. It's none of your business."

"Why? You're protecting him? You're not angry?"

"Of course I am. You don't know what you're doing."

"I don't need to know," he said. "I know what I see."

He turned—and saw Oliver.

Something trembled in him. Fear. Rage. Both. His hands shook, as if his body knew something his mind hadn't caught yet.

"Jace—don't—" I tried.

But he shoved Oliver.

Oliver didn't move.

Jace's fist landed against his chest. Oliver punched back.

The air crackled with static. Leaves swirled. The scent of rain filled the air.

Students gathered; whispers spread like wildfire.

And all the eyes landed on me.

Olsor's commanding voice cut through: "All right. Disperse. Nothing to see." Orin and Billy were at his side.

Oliver walked away without a word.

"There will be consequences," Olsor said, eyes fixed on me.

Jace turned and left; I followed.

And inside me, a truth I would rather not face: Maybe I never knew Oliver. Maybe I never knew myself.

And maybe what I loved was never him at all—just the idea of him.