The table was set, but Gabriela barely touched her food. The aroma of roasted meat mixed with the herbs her mother had placed in a bowl, yet to her everything tasted dull, as if dinner had been made of ashes.
While her mother talked about school, a sudden flash crossed her mind. It wasn't a clear memory—more like a blurred image, as if it were an old photograph stained by moisture. She couldn't quite make out the boy's face, but there was one detail she would never forget: a white eye, identical to her own… and golden hair that seemed to drink in the light. That hazy image struck her all at once, sending a shiver through her body that she couldn't explain.
"Tomorrow will be a good day, Gabi," her mother said with a tired but determined smile. "Things will be different here. I promise."
Gabriela forced a smile, lowering her gaze to the plate. Different? A bitter certainty rose inside her: a new beginning didn't always mean freedom. She remembered well what it felt like to be singled out, the laughter echoing in her head as if it still lingered, chasing her. They're going to make fun of me again… The very thought made her stomach twist.
The silence between them stretched on. Outside, the night itself seemed to hold its breath. Gabriela lifted her eyes toward the window, and then she saw it: a shadow, still, outlined against the curtain. Her heart leapt so violently she nearly spilled her glass.
"What's wrong?" her mother asked, noticing the tremor in her hand.
Gabriela blinked, swallowed hard, and shook her head quickly."N-no… it's nothing."
But the hairs on her arms stayed on edge, as if the night itself had brushed against her with invisible fingers.
Dawn came wrapped in a dull gray, as if the sky itself carried the same heaviness pressing down on Gabriela's chest.
It was her first day at the secondary school in that forgotten, frozen town—a place that smelled of damp wood, of old earth, of silence.
Her mother walked beside her, saying nothing, but the tension between them was palpable.
Gabriela descended the cabin's stairs with her dark sunglasses already on. She didn't want to show her eyes. Sometimes she believed those two orbs of hers were the root of all the world's rejection: one completely white with a black iris floating in the center, like a sickly moon; the other a bottomless black, as if it could swallow any gaze. They were her mark, her curse.
Her mother gave her a quick glance but didn't judge. She respected her daughter's choice, though the sadness showed at the corners of her lips.
The drive to school was silent. Only the hum of the engine and the wind striking the windows filled the air. Gabriela pressed her sweaty palms against her skirt, feeling the air grow thicker with every kilometer.
When the car stopped in front of Black Hollow Secondary, her heart faltered.
The building was massive, old, with gray walls and windows that looked like watchful eyes. It resembled an abandoned hospital more than a school.
She drew a deep breath, swallowed hard, and forced herself to step out of the car. The cold hit her immediately—sharp, biting—but not as harsh as the stares of some students lingering by the entrance.
"Good luck, sweetheart," her mother said, brushing her hair back before planting a quick kiss on her forehead.
Gabriela gave a weak nod and began walking. Her steps felt as heavy as if she were dragging chains. Fear wrapped around her, but then—something shifted.
She saw him.
A boy, standing not far from the entrance, turned toward her. His black hair seemed to swallow the morning light, and his dark eyes cut through her like blades. But they weren't just eyes—there was fire in them, a strange heat that swept across her skin, chilling her spine while igniting her chest all at once. Gabriela felt a burn beneath her skin, a tingling that spread like electricity.
He didn't say a word. He simply looked at her for a few seconds, then, with an unexpected gesture, gave a faint smile. Barely there, but enough to carve itself into her bones. The warmth it stirred was unlike the golden-haired boy in her fractured memory.
Gabriela's legs nearly gave out. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. The air turned too dense to swallow.
Maybe… maybe things really could be different, she thought, though she hardly believed it herself.
She forced herself to keep walking. Some eyes lingered on her, inquisitive, while others dismissed her as though she were invisible. Every glance was a blade tearing at her skin.
Inside the classroom, the teacher lifted her eyes from her papers and examined Gabriela with a restrained smile."You must be Gabriela Velmora, right?""Y-yes…" Her voice came out small, barely audible."Well then, welcome to Black Hollow Secondary," the teacher announced to the class.
Dozens of eyes pierced into her like spears. Some whispered, some girls scrutinized her with judgment written in their faces. Yet one girl gave her a timid smile—a fragile beam of light in the gloom. The boys, on the other hand, regarded her with distant curiosity, more intrigued by appearances than anything else.
Gabriela longed to run, to escape, but her legs refused. She only managed to walk to an empty seat, collapse into it, and shrink as if to disappear.
The teacher was just about to begin the lesson when the door opened.
Time seemed to freeze.
A boy walked in. Tall, moving with slow, assured steps, as if his very presence bent the room around him. Golden hair, almost radiant, and piercing green eyes that seemed to light up the dim classroom.
Gabriela forgot how to breathe.
Her heart stopped.
And then—she remembered.
That fleeting moment on the water tower. The dizzying fall. The hands that caught her in midair. The blurred face of the boy who had saved her. That same golden hair. And in her memory, one detail sharper than all the rest—his eye, the same strange white eye that mirrored hers.
The world vanished. There was only him.
"Mr. Draven, this is the second day you've arrived late," the teacher said, her voice straining to sound firm.
He lifted his gaze only slightly, without the faintest trace of remorse, and replied in a voice dry and sharp as a blade:"It won't happen again."
Gabriela watched him through her dark glasses, torn between fear and fascination. She couldn't look away. It was him. The boy who had pulled her back from death.
But he didn't spare her a glance. He walked past her with the same indifference one shows to grass underfoot and sat two rows behind her.
Gabriela bit her lip, battling herself. She didn't want to turn, didn't want to seem weak, but something invisible tugged at her, consuming her.
The air around her seemed to vibrate, like an unseen thread stretched between them.
She turned, just slightly, as if drawn by a magnet. And in that instant, their eyes met.
His look was fleeting, simple, cold—like melting ice. Yet it was enough to send her gaze darting away, her heart hammering.
Is it him? Or am I just mistaken? The doubt gnawed at her, but the truth was clear: she was caught, ensnared by something she couldn't name.
Unbeknownst to her, he did notice. When she curled into her seat, small and trembling, a quiet, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. A smile he hadn't shown the world in a very long time.
Gabriela didn't see it. But that smile sealed something—an invisible pact, a bond that, though hidden in shadow, now tied them together.