48.
The evening air was cool against Alina’s skin as she stepped out of the garden, her conversation with Hazel still lingering in her mind. They had talked about many things—work, life, the unpredictability of it all—but, inevitably, the topic had always circled back to him. Caelan.
Hazel had spoken about him with a knowing edge, her words carrying a weight Alina wasn’t sure she was ready to fully acknowledge. And yet, as she trudged back to her dorm, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, her thoughts kept returning to him, to the mansion she had unconsciously made her second home.
But tonight, she was too tired.
The weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders—the sharp reprimands from Ms. Davenport, the endless revisions, the suffocating atmosphere of the office. It had drained her, left her hollow. All she wanted was to sleep, to let the world fade away for a few hours before she had to wake up and do it all over again.
Her dorm was dark when she stepped inside, the silence settling around her like a heavy blanket. She slipped off her shoes and let her bag drop onto the floor before collapsing onto the bed.
A sigh escaped her lips as she reached for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on Jace’s name. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a second before she pressed it.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
She stared at the screen for a moment before tossing it aside, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was ignoring her.
Maybe she was just overthinking everything.
She should sleep. She needed to sleep.
But then, a thought crept into her mind. A quiet, insistent whisper that refused to be ignored.
Why did she keep running to Caelan?
Again and again.
Even when she told herself she wouldn’t. Even when she knew better.
Her fingers clenched the sheets as the question settled in her chest, pressing against her ribs. It wasn’t just about his mansion, about the comfort of a place that felt safe when everything else in her life was chaos. It wasn’t just about the books or the silence or even the way he looked at her sometimes, like she was something he couldn’t quite figure out.
It was something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name.
She closed her eyes, her heart pounding softly against her ribs.
She didn’t want to admit it. Not yet.
But the truth was there, waiting.
And eventually, she would have to face it.
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