(Kaia Verene's POV)
My name is Kaia Verene.
Most people don't know that.
Not because it's a secret—just because they don't get close enough to ask.
And I prefer it that way.
Crowds and I don't get along.
Too loud. Too many people performing versions of themselves they think others will like. Too many eyes, too many expectations pressing in like I owe them something.
I don't.
So I stay where I always do.
At the back.
Unnoticed. Unbothered. Untouched.
Or at least—that's the plan.
"Kaia, you're not even listening."
I blink, dragging my gaze away from the window. The girl beside me—Lena, I think—has been talking for a while now. Her mouth's still moving like I didn't just mentally check out five minutes ago.
"Was I supposed to?" I mutter.
She groans, rolling her eyes. "God, you're impossible."
Good.
That usually makes people stop trying.
I rest my chin against my palm, turning back to the window. Sunlight filters through the trees outside, soft and quiet—nothing like the chaos inside this room.
I like it better that way.
Distance.
Silence.
Control.
Then something shifts.
Not visibly. No one says anything. No sound announces it. But the air—feels different. Like attention bends all at once toward a single point.
I already know why.
Still—
I look.
Mistake.
She's standing by the door.
Elara Quinn.
Of course I know the name. Everyone does. You'd have to be completely disconnected from reality not to. She's the kind of person people talk about without realizing it—effortless, constant, like background noise you can't turn off.
Pretty. Popular. Untouchable.
Just… not in the same way I am.
She smiles at someone, and it's like the entire room breathes easier. Like she carried sunlight in with her and decided to share it.
I look away immediately.
Not interested.
Not my problem.
"Look who finally showed up," Lena whispers, nudging me like I care.
I don't respond.
I've seen girls like her before. The kind that take up space without asking. The kind people orbit around without thinking.
And people fall for it.
Every time.
I don't.
I won't.
Because girls like her?
They don't notice girls like me.
And even if they did—
I wouldn't let it matter.
Simple.
End of story.
"Hey."
The voice is closer than it should be.
I freeze.
Slowly, I turn my head—
—and there she is.
Right beside my desk.
Up close, she's worse.
Softer. Realer. There's warmth in her eyes that doesn't match what people say about her. It's not distant. Not fake.
It's focused.
On me.
"Hi," she says, like this is normal. Like walking up to me—me—is something people just do.
I stare at her a second too long.
"…Do I know you?" I ask flatly.
There's a pause.
Then she smiles.
Not offended. Not awkward.
Amused.
"Not yet," Elara Quinn says. "But I was hoping that could change."
No.
Absolutely not.
I lean back slightly, putting space between us. "You're talking to the wrong person."
"Am I?" she tilts her head, studying me like I'm something worth figuring out. "You seem like the right one."
I don't like that.
I don't like the way she says it—like she's already decided something about me I haven't agreed to.
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
My jaw tightens.
People who think they "know enough" always know nothing at all.
"You should go back to your friends," I say, nodding toward the group watching us from across the room. "They look like they miss you."
"They'll survive."
"I won't," I mutter. "If this conversation keeps going."
That should've ended it.
It always does.
But Elara just laughs softly—like I said something cute instead of dismissive.
Cute.
I hate that.
"Okay," she says, stepping back—but not leaving. "I'll go. For now."
For now?
I don't like the sound of that.
"But I'll talk to you again," she adds, like it's already decided.
I meet her gaze, unimpressed. "No, you won't."
She smiles.
Slow. Certain.
"Watch me."
And then she walks away.
Just like that.
Like she didn't just walk into a space I've spent years keeping untouched—and leave something behind.
The room goes back to normal.
Noise. Laughter. Movement.
Everything the same.
Except it's not.
Because for the first time in a long time—
someone looked at me…
and didn't look away.
And somehow—
I didn't either.