Racheal lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The ticking of the clock on her wall seemed louder than usual, each second dragging her deeper into thoughts she couldn't escape. Declan's words from earlier looped inside her head, refusing to fade.
You're not a joke. Not to me.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't help. The sincerity in his tone, the way his gaze had pierced right through her defenses—it shook her more than she wanted to admit. Declan had teased her before, played around with words, and even annoyed her countless times. But this… this wasn't a joke. He had been serious. And that seriousness terrified her.
Turning on her side, Racheal reached for her diary at the edge of the bed. She pressed it against her chest before finally opening it, her pen hovering uncertainly above the page.
Why do I keep running from him? Why does he look at me like I'm someone who matters?
The words flowed faster now, as if her hand had a mind of its own.
Gideon said he doesn't play games. That when Declan cares, he really cares. But how can I trust that? What if it's another trap? Another way for me to get hurt?
Her handwriting wavered as her chest tightened. Deep down, she knew the truth she was refusing to write. She wasn't afraid Declan would hurt her. She was afraid of how much she wanted to trust him. Afraid of the way her heart sped up whenever he came close, of the strange comfort his presence brought even when she didn't want it.
With trembling hands, she shut the diary and hugged it tightly. But even then, the storm inside her wouldn't settle.
When she finally drifted into sleep, it was anything but peaceful. Her dreams twisted into restless shadows. She saw Mr. Unknown lurking at the edges of her mind, that faceless figure that had haunted her for months. But this time, another voice broke through—Declan's voice.
Stop pushing me away.
She woke with a jolt, gasping as if she had been running. Her skin was damp with sweat, and her lashes were wet with faint traces of tears. For a long moment, she just sat there in the dark, clutching her blanket around herself like a shield.
By the time dawn broke, painting the room in pale gold, Racheal felt drained, as though she hadn't slept at all. She dragged herself out of bed and moved through her morning routine slowly, her thoughts heavy, her movements mechanical. Even brushing her hair felt like a task that needed extra effort.
When she finally stepped out into the morning air, the campus was already buzzing with life—students laughing, chattering, moving briskly toward their lectures. Racheal walked quietly among them, her mind elsewhere. She wished she could disappear into the crowd, but fate didn't allow it.
Because he was there.
Declan.
Leaning casually against the wall near her lecture hall, hands shoved into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, fixed on her the moment she appeared.
Racheal's steps faltered, her breath catching in her throat. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around, to retreat before he noticed. But it was too late. He straightened, tilting his head slightly, and their gazes locked.
No smirk this time. No playful grin. Just a steady, unreadable look that made her heart stumble.
She forced her legs to keep moving, her books clutched so tightly that her knuckles whitened. As she approached, Declan pushed himself off the wall and spoke, his tone calm, almost gentle.
"Morning."
Her lips felt dry, but she managed to whisper, "Morning."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Racheal wanted to look anywhere but at him, yet her eyes betrayed her, flickering back to his face. He wasn't mocking her. He wasn't trying to annoy her. He was just… waiting.
Finally, he asked, voice low enough that only she could hear:
"Did you think about what I said?"
Her throat tightened. Of course she had. She had thought about nothing else since last night. But how could she admit that?
"I… don't know," she said, lowering her gaze.
Declan studied her, his expression unreadable, though something flickered briefly in his eyes. Then he gave a small nod. "That's fine. I'll wait until you do."
He stepped aside, letting her pass, his presence lingering even as he didn't follow.
Racheal walked into the hall with her chest aching, her mind spinning. For the first time, she realized something that scared her even more than Mr. Unknown's shadow.
Declan wasn't chasing her recklessly anymore. He was giving her space. And that made his words, his patience, and his certainty far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.