PAST
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MELINA'S POV
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I woke up in an unusually good mood that morning.
Why?
Maybe because a goblin named Theo had literally jumped into my room last night.
The memory flashed through my mind, and before I knew it—
I laughed.
Out loud.
The sound slipped from my lips like an escaped secret, catching a few wandering ears. Heads turned. A couple of students gave me the kind of look reserved for people who'd escaped straight from a psychiatric ward.
Great. Perfect. Well done, Melina. Bravo.
I lowered my head and quickened my pace toward college, silently praying the pavement would open up and swallow me whole. A soft "tsk" escaped me, as if I could scold myself back into normalcy.
But something strange happened as I got closer to campus.
I wasn't just walking.
I was… hopping.
Like some over-caffeinated bunny. A wide, stubborn grin clung to my face, refusing to leave.
People noticed. Some smiled, some whispered behind their hands, a few teased openly.
And the weird part? I didn't care. Not even a little.
I probably looked like I'd completely lost it.
A boy breaks into my room at night, and here I am, grinning like an idiot.
I should be freaked out. Worried. Something.
But ever since I joined this college, my brain had felt foggy, like my logic had gone on vacation and forgotten to return.
My sling bag dangled loosely off my shoulder as I walked down the pavement, when suddenly—
my eyes landed on them.
Theo.
Damon.
Gregg.
And four other guys whose names still hadn't stuck.
They were gathered near the campus entrance like the opening shot of some high-school drama—some leaning against their bikes, others perched lazily on the stone benches. Laughter drifted through the morning air, easy and careless, as students rushed past them like background extras.
And then I saw him.
Theo.
He wasn't just standing there—no, of course not. He was perched on his expensive-looking motorbike like it was built to match his attitude. One leg rested on the seat, the other firmly planted on the ground. His elbow was propped on his knee, chin tucked lightly between his fingers, like he was watching the world through half-lidded eyes.
And those eyes…
Even from across the pavement, I felt their weight on me.
His gaze wasn't casual. It was steady. Playful. Mischievous in that quiet I-know-something-you-don't kind of way.
Our eyes met.
And suddenly, the morning felt louder—the chatter, the footsteps, the hum of bike engines—all fading into a dull, distant blur.
For a moment, it was just me.
And him.
Time slowed in that stupidly dramatic way it does in every romance scene I've ever mocked. His lips didn't move, but his eyes… they smiled. Like he found me genuinely amusing. Like he'd been waiting to see my reaction.
And God help me, I stared back.
The logical part of my brain screamed at me to look away. But my heart? It fluttered like it was auditioning for a K-drama lead role.
The seconds stretched like taffy. I could feel my cheeks heating, the corners of my lips betraying me with a tiny smile I couldn't suppress.
I finally broke eye contact first, looking down as if the pavement had suddenly become fascinating. My grin refused to leave, no matter how hard I bit my lip.
Even as I walked away, I could feel it—his gaze on my back.
Warm. Unrelenting.
It tickled the nape of my neck, urging me—no, daring me—to turn.
And of course… I did.
I turned, slowly, like I wasn't desperate to check, but I was.
And there he was.
Still watching me.
His friends were laughing about something, completely oblivious, but Theo's eyes stayed locked on mine like we were in our own private frame.
My heart gave that annoying thud-skip-thud thing, and I immediately cursed it.
And then—reality.
Oh. Friends.
I almost forgot mine had shattered like a glass cup on cold tiles.
I knew exactly where Zara would be.
I stormed through the hallway and found her in her usual spot—alone at her window-side desk, head bowed over a book.
I knocked gently on the desk.
"I'm busy," she muttered, not looking up.
Not giving up, I tapped again.
She finally looked up, irritation flickering in her eyes. But the second she saw me, her expression cracked. She stood up, trying to hide behind that "I'm fine" mask she wore so well.
But I knew better. I knew that look. The silent storm behind her calm.
Without a word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened at first, staring down at her hands like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to lean into it.
I kept patting her back gently. I knew that expression—loneliness hiding behind forced strength. I'd worn it myself. Sometimes all you want is a hug, but shame, or pride, or the lack of anyone to ask stops you.
Our chins rested on each other's shoulders. I felt her sniffles against my ear. I didn't ask what was wrong. I just held her tighter, and somewhere between her shaking breaths and my racing heartbeat, my own eyes filled up too.
"Did I steal your chocolate?" I whispered, trying to sound light. Still holding her.
"No," she mumbled into my shoulder.
"Did I steal your nonexistent boyfriend?"
A small snicker escaped her. "No."
"Then why aren't you talking to me? And… why are you crying?"
My voice broke on that last word. Seeing Zara cry—it pierced me.
"I… I didn't know how to start," she whispered. Her voice trembled. "I had so much to say… but I couldn't. I'm sorry for avoiding you like that."
"Let's not ignore each other like this anymore. It's… hurting me," she said, echoing my exact thoughts.
"I agree," I whispered back, smiling through my tears.
We broke the hug. Her eyes shimmered with tears, just like mine.
"Silly girl," she chuckled through the sniffles, wiping my tears away with her sleeve.
"Look who's talking," I laughed softly, wiping hers in return.
My heart swelled. Zara wasn't someone who showed emotions easily. But right now, she was holding on to me like I was her anchor.
And then I noticed him.
By the door.
Theo.
That same impish grin. A thumbs up. Then he walked away like he'd orchestrated this moment.
Tsk. I didn't do this for you, I thought. But deep down, I knew if he hadn't jumped into my room last night, I'd still be avoiding her too.
"I need to talk to you. Something serious," Zara murmured. The playfulness in her voice faded, replaced by a weight that settled between us.
I squeezed her hand gently, silently telling her I was here.
"Can we go to the rooftop?" she asked.
"Sure."
We climbed up to the rooftop. It was quiet, empty—the kind of place where confessions hung heavy in the air. We sat in the shade, the wind soft against our faces.
"Mel…" Zara began. Her voice shook. "I haven't told anyone this. Don't… please don't tell anyone. Not even Theo."
Her hands were trembling as she gripped mine. I squeezed back, steadying her. Whatever this was, it was big.
"I won't. Go on."
Her breath hitched. "The day you came over… remember?"
"Yes."
I'd never forget that day, even if I wanted to.
"That night… Mom was locked up in her room. She talked back to… f-father."
Father. The word dripped like venom.
"What kind of man locks his wife up…" I muttered before she continued.
"Theo left with Damon because of the fight," she whispered.
I frowned. Why would Theo leave his mom alone with a man like that? He must have had his reasons… right?
"There was almost nobody home. H-he… my stepfather… he barged into my room," she stammered. Her hands went ice cold. Her face turned pale.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me went still.
"He… he tried to rip my dress off."
The tears came before she could stop them. Her voice cracked, words shaking like glass ready to shatter.
I didn't think. I just pulled her into my arms. Carefully, like she was fragile. But she wasn't weak. She was surviving.
"He couldn't… do anything. Thankfully Theo came home," she whispered. Relief flickered in her eyes, but the tremor in her voice lingered.
Relief for what didn't happen. Pain for what almost did.
I held her tighter as tears spilled from my eyes. Anger burned hot in my chest. Fear. Pain. Fury. That man didn't deserve to be called a father.
The rooftop. The breeze. The world itself went silent.
Her words echoed in my head.
And my heart thundered under the weight of what she'd just shared.
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