The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, sharp and too bright after days of rain. Shyla blinked at it, half expecting to see storm clouds still dragging across the sky — but the world had cleared overnight. Everything felt new, cleaner… except her.
Ash hadn't spoken to her in three days.
He hadn't looked at her either. He came to class, silent, distant, eyes fixed anywhere but her direction. Whatever fragile thread had connected them before was gone now — or maybe he'd just cut it himself.
She told herself she didn't care. Told herself again when Leo pulsed faintly against her skin, the soft golden glow of the locket steady and warm. But she could feel the question humming in its core.
"He's avoiding you for a reason," Leo's voice whispered, quiet enough that only she could hear.
Shyla ignored him, brushing her hair back as she checked her phone. Messages from friends flooded the group chat — all about the same thing.The Annual College Ball.She sighed. Perfect timing.
By the time she reached the campus courtyard, the air was thick with excitement — posters going up, committees forming, dresses and themes being debated in every corner. For once, life looked almost normal.
"Shyla! You're on the decoration team, right?" her friend Maya called. "Come on, we need someone who won't burn the place down with fairy lights again."
Shyla laughed lightly, even as something inside her tugged toward the shadow of the library — where Ash usually stood, silent and apart.But he wasn't there.
The locket pulsed again. Harder this time.
"You shouldn't go near him," Leo murmured. His voice carried an edge now — not just warning, but fear.
She frowned, whispering under her breath, "You said that before."
"And you didn't listen. He's slipping, Shyla. You don't see what he's fighting."
Her heartbeat stumbled. "He's not—he wouldn't hurt me."
"That's exactly what he said the first time," Leo replied.The words were quiet, but they landed heavy, like something old and true.
She froze, fingers tightening around the locket. "The first time?"
Leo didn't answer.
The sunlight dimmed for a moment — clouds passing, or maybe something else. Around her, laughter continued, music started, the world spun easily forward.
But for Shyla, everything felt like it had just stopped.
Two Days Before the Ball
The days that followed blurred into soft music, glitter, and paper roses.
Every corridor in the college smelled faintly of paint and glue — the scent of hasty decoration and unspoken chaos. Shyla found herself in the center of it all, surrounded by laughter and the clatter of chairs, pretending she wasn't constantly glancing toward the doorway.
Ash hadn't shown up again.
Not in class, not in the library, not even outside by the old oak where he usually vanished after lectures.
She told herself it was better this way. That she needed space too. But every time her phone buzzed, her pulse jumped before she realized it wasn't him.
"Hey, can you pass the tape?" Maya asked, waving from across the room.
"Yeah—sorry," Shyla said quickly, tossing it over with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
The locket on her neck warmed, faint and rhythmic — Leo's quiet disapproval pulsing beneath her skin.
"You keep looking for him," he murmured. "Even when you know you shouldn't."
"I'm not," she whispered under her breath, glancing around to make sure no one noticed her talking to jewelry again.
"You always were a terrible liar."
"Leo, please. Not now."
"You're walking into something that isn't meant for you."
His tone was soft, but there was weight behind it — the kind that settled in her chest and refused to move.
"Then what am I meant for?" she muttered, grabbing a brush and painting over the cracks in a banner.
"Not him," came the answer.
She froze. "You don't even know him."
"I know what he was made to be," Leo said, voice fading to a whisper. "And that should be enough."
The locket dimmed again — silent now, like it regretted saying too much.
For a long time, Shyla didn't move.
Outside, the campus buzzed with color and noise — students laughing, lights being tested, someone blasting music from a speaker. Everything felt alive. But she couldn't shake the cold weight pressing against her heartbeat.