The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the marble floors of the university corridors. Students filled the air with chatter, footsteps, and laughter, a thousand voices weaving together into one buzzing hum. Some hurried to lectures, others lounged with coffee cups and phones in hand, but Aira Brown walked through it all like a silent storm—untouched, unbothered, unseen.
That morning, the university had announced a "special guest lecture," a motivational session for the incoming freshmen. It was supposed to be uplifting. Inspiring. Most students seemed thrilled, gossiping about who the "renowned counselor" might be.
Valentina leaned across her desk, whispering eagerly, "Who do you think it is?"
Kai slouched back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers. "Probably someone boring. Talking about life goals, discipline, and how to 'find your purpose.'"
Bianca smirked. "I hope it's someone we can mess with."
Rei adjusted his glasses, calm as always. "As long as it's not another two-hour lecture on finding inner peace, I'll survive."
The group chuckled lightly, their voices blending with the general excitement around them. But Aira—usually the picture of icy detachment—suddenly slowed her steps.
Her sharp eyes locked on the woman stepping onto the small stage at the front of the assembly hall.
Her world stopped.
The students applauded politely, curious smiles lighting their faces. The woman smiled back, radiating warmth and kindness. Her presence seemed comforting, her voice like honey dripping from the microphone.
But for Aira, the name announced had already sliced her open.
Mrs. Harper.
The smile didn't fool her. Not now. Not ever.
The storm inside Aira didn't show in her face. No tears. No outburst. No visible anger. Instead, an eerie stillness spread across her features—so cold, so absolute—that anyone who happened to glance at her felt an involuntary chill.
"She's frozen," Zane murmured, eyes narrowing as he studied her.
Ivy leaned closer, whispering, "Who is that woman?"
Damian's gaze flicked between Aira and the stage. "Whoever she is… Aira knows her."
Mrs. Harper's voice carried smoothly through the hall: "Hope. Perseverance. Love. Family. These are the foundations of every young soul's journey…"
To the students, they were uplifting words. To Aira, they were knives.
Each syllable scraped against old wounds, tearing them open again.
You taught them how to ignore me. You smiled when I cried. You turned away.
Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She couldn't breathe under the weight of the hypocrisy.
Without hesitation, without a word, Aira turned on her heel and walked out. Her heels struck the marble sharply, echoing like gunshots. Heads turned, whispers rose, but she didn't care. Not one step faltered.
The seven pairs of eyes followed her silently.
Bianca leaned forward, voice hushed. "I've never seen anyone look so… broken and terrifying at the same time."
Zane's gaze never left the door Aira had disappeared through. His voice was low, almost reverent. "She's not broken. She's surviving."
Hours Later – University Lounge
The corridors had emptied, classes long ended. The air in the lounge was quiet now, soft lamplight pooling across polished wood.
Mrs. Harper sat comfortably with a cup of coffee, her smile still plastered in place—except there was no one left to perform for.
The sound of heels echoed again.
Aira stepped into the room, her presence sharp as a blade. She didn't move quickly, but every step carried the weight of inevitability, like a predator who already owned the kill.
Mrs. Harper looked up, feigning warmth. "Can I help you, dear?"
Aira stopped a few feet away, her eyes colder than the marble beneath their feet. Her voice cut through the stillness, low and unshaking.
"You taught them how to ignore me."
The counselor's smile wavered.
"You taught them," Aira continued, each word a scalpel, "how to turn their backs. How to silence my screams. How to convince themselves that my pain was my fault."
Mrs. Harper's hands trembled slightly on the coffee cup. "Aira, you misunderstand—"
"No." Aira's interruption was a blade. "I understand perfectly."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping, deliberate and merciless.
"Now teach them how to live with the guilt."
The silence afterward was suffocating. Mrs. Harper's mask crumbled, her face pale, lips parted in shock.
Aira didn't wait for an answer. She turned, the movement precise, and walked away.
Her heels echoed again, fading into the empty corridor.
From the shadows near the corner of the lounge, seven figures stood hidden, unmoving. They had followed her, unknowingly stepping into the heart of her storm.
Ivy's eyes were wide. "What… just happened?"
Damian exhaled slowly. "She tore that woman apart… without even raising her voice."
Rei's tone was grave. "She's been through hell."
Bianca whispered, almost trembling, "That wasn't just anger. That was years of pain."
Valentina hugged her arms around herself. "No wonder she looks at people like she's expecting a knife in her back."
Kai, unusually serious, muttered, "She's stronger than any of us."
But Zane said nothing. His dark eyes stayed locked on the direction Aira had vanished. His jaw clenched, his mind spiraling.
She's a warrior in chains… and I want to be the one to set her free.
That Night
The night was cruelly silent.
Aira lay stiffly on her narrow bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. Her room was empty, walls bare, a half-packed suitcase still lingering in the corner, as though she never intended to stay.
Sleep didn't come easily. When it did, it betrayed her.
The dream came like it always did—shadows pressing against her chest, voices cutting through the dark.
Thomas:You're a burden.Sana:I wish you were never born.Lily:Just stay out of the way.
Her dream-self curled in on the cold basement floor, gasping for air, bruised hands trembling. She reached out, desperate, pleading.
But no one came.
Her silent screams echoed, swallowed by the void.
Then Mrs. Harper's voice, honeyed and cruel, bled into the nightmare.
You deserve it, Aira.
Her eyes flew open. She jolted upright, breath ragged, sweat dampening her skin. The shadows of the room pressed around her, but she forced herself to breathe.
"I don't need them," she whispered to herself. "I don't need anyone."
Her voice was firm, but the single tear that slid down her cheek betrayed her.
No one saw it. No one would ever see it.
Because Aira Brown had mastered the art of being untouchable.