Adrian's POV
Her word kept echoing in my mind.
Different.
She said it so quietly, like she wasn't even sure she should say it. But I heard it. I always hear everything.
Different.
I leaned against the wall in the empty hallway, arms crossed over my chest, staring at the lockers in front of me. The other students rushed by, laughing, chatting, living in their little worlds. But her voice cut through it all. She saw me differently. Not as the new kid. Not as the so-called handsome transfer everyone whispered about. She saw something else.
It unsettled me.
I didn't like people seeing through me. That was dangerous.
When the final bell rang and I left the school grounds, I couldn't shake off the weight of it. I drove in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound as the city blurred past. My new house wasn't far from school—a large, quiet property hidden by tall fences. My father liked privacy. Needed it.
I pushed through the front door, already smelling the faint traces of cedarwood and leather that filled the living room. My father was there, sitting in his chair like he always did, a thick book in one hand, a glass of water in the other. His sharp gray eyes flicked up to me the moment I entered.
"You're late," he said simply.
"School ran long," I muttered, dropping my bag onto the couch.
He closed his book and studied me with that intense stare that always made me feel like a boy again, even though I wasn't. "How was it?"
I hesitated. "The same as every other school."
His gaze sharpened. "Don't lie to me."
I clenched my jaw. He could always tell. "It was… fine. I kept my head down."
He stood, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room. "Good. That's exactly what you need to do. We can't afford another mistake like the last school."
My chest tightened at the reminder. The rumors. The accusations. Bullying. That's what the humans called it. They didn't know the truth. Couldn't know.
"I didn't start that fight," I said quietly, almost to myself.
His expression hardened. "It doesn't matter. They saw what you did. They saw what you're capable of. And now you're here. A second chance, Adrian. Don't ruin it."
I looked away, frustration burning in my veins. He didn't understand how hard it was, holding back every day, pretending to be someone I wasn't. Pretending to be human.
"I'll be careful," I said finally.
He studied me a moment longer, then gave a short nod. "Good. Remember who you are, and remember what happens if anyone finds out."
I didn't need reminding. I'd been carrying that weight my whole life.
But still, as I went upstairs to my room, her voice wouldn't leave me.
Different.
Why did it sound less like an accusation… and more like a truth?
---
Irene's POV
I spent the whole afternoon thinking about it.
The way his eyes locked onto mine. The way I blurted out the word like some idiot. Different.
Ugh. Why did I say that? Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?
I sat in the corner of my parents' café, pretending to read through my science notes but not actually focusing on a single word. The smell of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries surrounded me, familiar and comforting. Customers came and went, chatting happily with my dad behind the counter.
Everything looked normal. Everything felt normal. Except me.
Anna and Elsa would have laughed if I told them what I said. Or maybe they would have squealed and twisted it into some wild romantic story. I didn't need that. I didn't need more reasons to think about Adrian Blackwood.
But I couldn't stop.
What was it about him? His eyes? His silence? The way he didn't act like anyone else in school?
I pressed my forehead against my open notebook, groaning quietly. "I'm losing my mind."
Later that night, I walked home with my dad after closing the café. The streets were quiet, the glow of the streetlights flickering softly. My dad hummed under his breath, always the calm one. Always steady.
When we got home, my mom wasn't there yet. That wasn't unusual. She often stayed out late, sometimes claiming it was for supplies, sometimes not bothering to explain at all.
I tried to focus on my homework, but every creak of the door pulled my attention. When she finally came in, it was nearly midnight.
Her steps were uneven. Her breath heavy. The sharp smell hit me before I even turned around.
"Mom," I whispered, standing quickly.
She waved her hand, dismissing me as she stumbled toward the kitchen. "Don't look at me like that, Irene. I'm fine."
"No, you're not," I said, frustration tightening my voice. "You promised you'd stop. You promised—"
"I said I'm fine!" she snapped, louder this time, her face flushed.
I froze, my chest tightening. She never yelled. Not like this.
Dad appeared in the doorway, his expression pained but resigned. "Angel, please. Not tonight."
She shook her head, muttering under her breath as she disappeared into the bedroom, the door slamming behind her.
Silence filled the house.
I stood there, trembling, my fists clenched. Anger burned in me, hot and raw. But beneath it was something worse. Fear. Worry.
Because no matter how much I hated seeing her like this… she was still my mom. And I couldn't stop caring.