Seraphina's POV:
The sound of the gates closing echoed.
The boy looked at her for a while, then left.
The guard's gaze lingered on the hairband now sitting neatly in her hair. His brow tightened slightly, as if wanting to question it, but he only exhaled and walked off.
Silence filled the room again.
The silence wouldn't have usually affected her, but now it felt cold.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the spot where he had been standing.
Only a couple of minutes later, she looked away.
Her fingers brushed the hair tie on her head, caressing it.
No one had given her anything besides medicines, drugs, curses, and beatings for all these years. Not without any hidden agenda.
Her brows pinched faintly.
'Who is he?' That question repeated in her mind again and again.
She tried to recollect anything about him, but couldn't.
Maybe she might remember him if she knew his na—
"Name," She muttered.
She had forgotten to ask it.
He had talked to her for almost an hour, and she didn't even know what his name was.
Her fingers curled slightly on the hairband.
He talked extensively about everything he did, as if discussing a topic, although he did spend a lot of time talking about his sister.
But the boy barely talked about himself.
Was he trying to hide something about himself?
If yes, then why?
These questions filled her mind.
'Why am I thinking about him so much?'
It shouldn't matter who he was.
It didn't.
It couldn't.
So she stopped thinking about him… or at least tried to.
***
During lunch, she went to the cafeteria, not because she wanted to, but because she hadn't eaten her breakfast this morning.
As she walked inside, she felt the gazes immediately.
Some hungry.
Some hateful.
Some dismissive.
She ignored them and joined the line.
Just when her turn approached—
"Hey, we were here first."
A rough voice snapped beside her.
Seraphina didn't even turn her head.
"Hey! I am talking to you!"
A hand struck her back– too hard.
Her balance broke, and she stumbled, her elbows hit the floor, sending a searing pain through her arms
Snickers rippled through the room.
'It hurts.'
She raised her head and looked at the one who pushed her.
The woman had a mean-looking face. She stared at Seraphina with a grin.
Then came her mockery.
"Oh, how did you fall so easily? I just tapped on your back. Ain't I right?"
She looked at her two friends.
They nodded their heads, sneering.
"It's her fault."
"She's so weak."
"Even wind can push her over."
They laughed.
"So, anyway—"
The first woman paused.
"Huh? Where did she go?"
The people around them pointed.
Seraphina was already gone—silently picking up her tray and walking toward her usual empty corner.
The crowd burst into laughter at the three women. Their faces reddened with embarrassment.
They stormed toward her—only to stop when a guard blocked their path.
"What are you doing?"
They looked at the guard who came there to stop their charade.
He was a middle-aged man with a beard, his height towering over them.
They tried to give some excuse, but he didn't listen and warned them before sending them away.
Seraphina didn't even look up to see what was happening and just ate her food.
She ate half of the food and threw the other half.
While heading back to her room, the three women reappeared—this time waiting for her.
They blocked her path.
"You think you are some hotshot just because of that face, huh?"
"Acting all high and mighty…"
"Sis, let's teach her some manners."
Seraphina stared at them blankly.
Then she stepped to the side to walk around them.
A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her backward.
Pain shot across her scalp—but she didn't cry out.
She had endured far, far worse.
The daily beatings from him, from her so-called husband.
The scars that still marked her back, arms, ribs—hidden under her clothes.
She simply raised her hand, reached up, and gently grasped the woman's wrist.
Her expression didn't change.
Her voice was flat. Quiet.
Emotionless.
"Leave it."