Monday morning arrived like a test I wasn’t ready for. I walked across campus with my bag slung over my shoulder, the bracelet hidden safely beneath my sleeve. The early sun felt too bright, the chatter of students around me too loud. I kept my head down, focusing on the rhythm of my footsteps, trying to blend into the crowd like I used to.

For the first hour of my lecture, I actually managed to feel almost normal. I took detailed notes, my pen moving steadily across the page. When the professor asked a question about fluid balance in post-operative patients, I even raised my hand and answered correctly. Sophia whispered something sarcastic about the professor’s tie during the break, and I laughed, a real, soft laugh that surprised me. For those brief moments, I let myself believe I could still balance both worlds. That I could keep Dominic locked away in the dark corners of my mind while still being the focused, responsible Jasmine everyone expected.

That illusion didn’t last.

By the second hour, the cracks started to show. My attention kept slipping. My fingers would drift under my sleeve without permission, tracing the familiar leather as if checking it was still there. Each time I caught myself, I yanked my hand back to the notebook, but the urge kept returning stronger. The calm the bracelet gave me was subtle, almost invisible until it wasn’t. Until the absence of that calm made my thoughts feel too loud again.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly too aware of my own body. The memory of Dominic’s voice, low, steady, commanding, brushed against the back of my mind.

Good girl.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard, trying to push the thought away. But it lingered, warm and dangerous, making it impossible to focus on the lecture slides in front of me.

During the short break between lectures, I waited in line for a coffee. Sophia suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, away from the flow of students. I stared at her, surprised. Her usual playful energy was gone, replaced by something sharper.

“Okay. Enough,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve been somewhere else for days. Did something happen at the club? With that guy?”

I froze. My mouth opened, but the words got stuck somewhere between my throat and my tongue. The noise of students moving around us felt suddenly too loud, like static in my ears. 

“Nothing happened,” I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “We just talked. It’s not a big deal.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. She studied me for a long second, her gaze searching my face.

“You’ve been weirdly calm and weirdly anxious at the same time. You disappear into your head for long stretches, you’re smiling like you’re half somewhere else, and you keep touching your wrist like it’s a lucky charm. I’m actually worried about you, Jasmine.”

Her words landed like small stones in my chest, one after another. I felt my face growing warm. Before I could come up with another lie, Emily walked up behind her, quieter but no less concerned. She looked at me with those soft, perceptive eyes that always saw too much.

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” Emily said gently, her voice steady and kind. “But you don’t have to carry it alone either.”

Their kindness hit harder than any accusation could have. I wanted to tell them everything, the way Dominic could make the whole world go quiet with just two words. They wouldn’t judge me. They cared. So why did the words refuse to come? I looked down at my shoes, throat tight, eyes stinging.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Really.”

Neither of them looked like they believed me. I wasn’t sure I believed myself either. Sophia opened her mouth to say something more, but Emily placed a gentle hand on her arm, silently telling her to let it go. The silence between us stretched for a few uncomfortable seconds. I couldn’t meet their eyes. Nearing the end of the break, more and more students left the cafeteria. My need for coffee forgotten, I turned and walked back toward the lecture hall, feeling their worried gazes on my back.

I couldn’t stay there. As soon as the lecture ended, I slipped away alone and found a quiet stairwell in the back of the science building. I sat on the steps, leaning against the cool concrete wall, trying to steady my breathing. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paint. It was suffocating. My fingers found the bracelet under my sleeve again, tracing it like a talisman, desperate for the calm it promised.

My phone vibrated. I pulled it out with trembling hands.

Unknown: You’re upsetting your friends.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I looked around the empty stairwell, suddenly feeling exposed. He was doing it again. How did he know? Where was he watching me from? The thought sent ice down my spine, but it also brought that familiar, shameful warmth.

Another message appeared.

Unknown: Breathe.

Without thinking, I straightened my posture, closed my eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. My hands stopped shaking. Then another. My racing heart began to slow. The noise in my head quieted, just a little.

I opened my eyes and stared at the screen. I had obeyed him before I even realized I was doing it. The realization settled over me like cold water. My fingers tightened around the phone. This wasn’t just attachment anymore. It was something deeper, something I was starting to need. And that frightened me more than being watched ever could.