---
Chapter Fourteen — The Quiet Hour
By the time I got home, the city had already fallen asleep.
The streets were slick with rain, silver reflections bleeding across the pavement under passing headlights.
Mila's car drove off with a wave and a smile, and suddenly I was alone again — heels clicking softly against the wet stone steps of our old apartment building.
The lights from our flat glowed faintly through the curtains. My mother was still awake.
I hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before unlocking it. The moment I stepped inside, the warm scent of ginger tea wrapped around me — familiar, grounding.
"Arisha?" Her voice came from the kitchen.
"Yes, Mom," I said, forcing a small smile as I removed my heels. "I'm home."
She appeared a second later, still wearing her work clothes, exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. "You're late. Mila's party went on this long?"
Guilt pricked me. "Yeah. We helped her clean up."
She nodded slowly, though I could tell she didn't quite believe me. Her gaze lingered on my dress — the soft pink chiffon, the shimmer of pearls under the light.
"You wore this for a birthday party?"
I froze. "It was… formal. Mila's idea."
"Hmm." She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. Just… be careful, alright? I don't want you getting tangled in things that could hurt you."
Her words sank deeper than she meant them to.
If only she knew how close I already was to that edge.
"I will," I whispered. "Good night, Mom."
---
My room was dim, the city lights spilling faintly through the curtains. I changed, washed off the makeup, and sat on my bed with my thoughts still heavy from the day.
Sophia's diamond flashed behind my eyelids when I blinked — all that glitter and emptiness.
And then his voice came back to me, low and steady: Not everyone measures worth in diamonds.
My heart ached with something I couldn't name.
I walked to the balcony, wrapping my cardigan around my shoulders. The air was cool, touched with rain.
The daisy I had planted stood upright, drops clinging to its petals like glass.
I smiled faintly. "You survived another storm," I murmured.
Just then, a faint sound from the street below drew my eyes.
A car. Black, sleek. Parked quietly in the shadows near our gate.
I frowned — until I saw someone step out briefly, placing something against the door before disappearing into the misty dark.
Curiosity tugged at me, heartbeat quickening. I went downstairs, barefoot, the stairwell echoing faintly with my steps.
There, at the door, lay a single brown envelope — unmarked except for my name written in elegant handwriting.
Inside was a book.
The Secret Garden.
Worn edges, faint scent of old pages.
And tucked between chapter seven and eight, a note written on thick cream paper.
> For the girl who finds beauty in silence.
You said you prefer things that grow slowly.
So here's a garden you can keep — until you find your own.
— A.
My breath caught.
No extravagant gifts. No flowers or jewelry. Just paper and ink, and meaning.
I ran my fingertips along the handwriting, feeling warmth rise in my chest.
Back upstairs, I placed the book beside my daisy on the balcony table — the flower bending slightly toward it, as if listening.
For the first time in weeks, the loneliness didn't feel so heavy.
It felt like someone had seen it — and quietly, without asking, shared the weight.
---
Chapter Fifteen — The Scandal
The morning began like any other.
Cold air, half-empty coffee, and the quiet shuffle of students drifting across the campus courtyard.
If I had known what waited for me beyond the university gates, I might have turned back.
---
It started with whispers.
Again.
I was halfway down the English Department hallway when Mila caught up, breathless, phone clutched tight.
"Don't check your phone," she said immediately.
My stomach twisted. "Why? What happened?"
Her eyes darted around. "Someone posted photos. Of you. And Adrian."
My blood went cold. "What photos?"
"The ones from his party. You two in the garden, the candlelight—" she swallowed, lowering her voice. "It looks like you kissed."
The world tilted slightly. "We didn't."
"I know," Mila said. "But people don't care about truth, Arisha. They care about stories."
---
By the time we reached the main courtyard, the damage was done.
Screens glowed everywhere — students huddled in clusters, some pretending not to stare, others whispering openly.
Someone laughed behind me. "Guess our campus prince has a new charity project."
Another voice — sharp, amused. "She must be proud. A scholarship girl landing the Prime Minister's son? Bold move."
Heat rose in my chest, but my legs felt numb.
I wanted to vanish — to become nothing but air.
Then I saw him.
Adrian stood near the library steps, jaw set, phone in hand. His friends surrounded him, speaking rapidly, but his gaze locked on me the moment I appeared.
Everything else — the voices, the laughter — blurred out.
He walked toward me, steady, like the world around us wasn't burning.
"Arisha," he said quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Come with me."
I hesitated. "Adrian—"
"Now."
The firmness in his tone left no room for argument. He took my wrist gently but decisively, leading me away from the courtyard, through a side corridor that opened into the nearly empty art building.
---
We stopped in the narrow hallway lined with paintings. Dust motes danced in the sunlight spilling through the tall windows.
He turned to me. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" My voice shook.
"For this. For not protecting you better."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You can't control rumors, Adrian."
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration sharp in his movements. "No, but I can control what happens next."
"What are you going to do? Give a press statement?"
"If I have to."
"You'll make it worse."
He stared at me — really stared, like he was trying to decide whether to argue or hold me.
Then, quietly, he said, "Do you trust me?"
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to believe that he could fix everything just by being who he was — strong, untouchable.
But right then, I only felt tired.
"I don't know anymore," I whispered.
---
By noon, the entire university was chaos.
An anonymous blog had posted an "exclusive story" — full of speculation, photos, and twisted half-truths. It didn't just target me now. It dragged my scholarship, my background, even my mother's job into it.
"Climbing the ladder, one scandal at a time," the headline read.
When I saw it, something in me broke.
---
That evening, as I packed my books to leave campus early, the dean's secretary found me.
"The principal wants to see you, Arisha."
My heart sank. "Now?"
"Yes. And… Adrian Madden will be there too."
---
The office was cold, all wood and silence.
The principal sat behind his desk, expression unreadable. Adrian stood beside him, coat still damp from the rain, eyes burning with something fierce.
"Arisha," the principal said carefully, "you understand the gravity of the situation?"
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"The press is circling. This university values discretion. We can't afford—"
Adrian cut in sharply. "She didn't do anything wrong."
The principal frowned. "Mr. Madden—"
"She was invited to my home. That's all. If people twist it, it's their problem, not hers."
His tone was low, controlled, but the steel beneath it made even the principal hesitate.
I looked at him, stunned. He wasn't defending out of pity — there was something raw in his voice, like he'd finally reached a point of no return.
---
When the meeting ended, he followed me outside.
Rain had begun again, thin and cold, tracing lines down the stone steps.
"Adrian," I said softly. "You shouldn't have argued with him."
"I don't care," he replied. "I'm done watching them drag you through hell."
"People will think—"
"Let them." His voice cracked slightly. "I'd rather they think anything than see you hurt."
I stared at him, heart pounding. "You don't have to—"
"I want to."
The rain fell harder, blurring the edges of everything — the world, the noise, the ache.
For a long time, neither of us moved.
And then, without thinking, I said the words that had been waiting quietly inside me:
"This will ruin you."
He smiled faintly, rain glistening on his lashes. "Then let it."