They reached the quiet part of campus, where the stone paths curved under tall oaks and the hum of distant traffic barely reached them. Mira and Jake walked a few steps ahead, laughing quietly, leaving Lily just behind.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She froze mid-step. The rhythm of her heartbeat slowed, then jumped—cold, sharp, like the wind brushing her arms through her oversized sleeves.
Instinctively, she pulled her phone out. Her fingers shook slightly, brushing the screen as if afraid of what it might say. The message glowed against the morning sunlight,
"Be home at 7pm."
Her stomach sank, tight, like someone had wrapped a hand around it and twisted. It wasn't angry words, it wasn't yelling. Just… a rule. A command disguised as care.
She swallowed, bitterly.
Aiden's shadow fell across her suddenly.
"Winslow… are you okay?" His voice was calm, low, holding back. He stopped a step away, his gaze steady on her. "You didn't seem… well."
She jumped slightly, her breath catching. The sudden attention made her dizzy, like she'd been standing in a quiet room alone and someone turned on a bright light. She forced her lips into a smile, soft, but hollow, trying to mask the knot in her chest.
"Oh… I'm fine. Sorry," she said, voice light but brittle. "I… think I have to go now."
She didn't look at him. Not even once. Her dark brown eyes lowered to the path ahead. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she moved toward Mira.
Aiden stayed still. He watched the way she walked, slight hunch in her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened around her bag strap as if it were holding her together.
She didn't escape his notice. Not really. But he didn't step closer, didn't push. Just… Not a word escaped him. Not out of disinterest, but as if every breath was deliberate. He thought,
She's not fine. Not even close.
Her steps quickened, carefully measured, avoiding any glance that might reveal the tremor in her hands, the faint tightening of her jaw.
"Mira… I… think I have to go now," Lily said awkwardly when she reached her friend. Her words stumbled out, uncertain, like a candle flickering against wind. "I have… something at home."
Mira's head tilted slightly, green eyes warm. She didn't press. She only nodded softly.
"Oh… okay, Lily. Be careful. See you tomorrow," Mira said, pulling her into a gentle hug. Lily stiffened slightly but didn't resist. The warmth of Mira's arms felt safe, fleeting, like sunlight on cold skin.
She stepped back quickly, keeping her smile small and controlled.
Jake waved, teasing something, but Lily only nodded in acknowledgment. Her lips curved into a polite smile, but inside, her chest felt hollow, the edges of her mind filled with a quiet ache.
Behind her, Aiden's figure remained. Tall, still, unreadable. His hands rested lightly at his sides, shoulders relaxed but rigid in poise. His gray eyes were fixed on her, calm, yet holding that unspoken notice that saw everything she tried to hide.
"Take care," he said finally, voice steady, low.
Lily nodded once. She turned, trying to catch a breath that felt trapped somewhere behind her ribs. She stepped faster, each footfall echoing softly against the stone path. The morning sunlight brushed her hair, but it did nothing to warm the cold that settled in her chest.
Her mind replayed the message, over and over, sharp and silent,
Be home at 7pm.
A rule, not a question. Not a "how was your day?" Just a command.
She bit her lip lightly, tasting the faint salt of tears she refused to let fall. Her hands tightened around her bag strap again, knuckles white under the fabric.
Every step away from Mira, away from Aiden, away from the laughter she'd shared, felt heavier than the last.
She wanted to stop. To sit. To curl into herself and let the quiet ache take her, but she couldn't. Not yet. Not here.
So she walked. Fast, deliberate, trying to make her shadow stretch ahead of her, trying to escape the hollow echo of a home that never felt like hers.
Behind her, Aiden stayed for a long moment, watching. Watching her shoulders straighten, watching her stiff gait, watching the fleeting sparkle of forced smile she cast back at him once before disappearing around the corner.
---
Lily closed the door of her room gently.
Not because anyone asked her to—
but because she had learned, over the years,
that silence was safer.
The room was small, familiar, and warm in a way the world outside wasn't.
Her bag slid from her shoulder and landed softly on the chair.
For a moment, she just stood there.
Breathing.
Then she looked at the mirror.
The girl staring back at her didn't look unhappy.
She didn't look broken.
That was the worst part.
Lily reached for a dress hanging nearby.
Her fingers brushed the fabric slowly, thoughtfully—
as if choosing words instead of clothes.
Is this okay?
She wasn't dressing for attention.
Wasn't hoping someone would notice her.
She just wanted one sentence.
You did well.
You look fine.
I'm glad you came.
She changed quietly.
Each movement careful.
Each button fastened with a kind of nervous respect—
as if tonight mattered more than she wanted to admit.
Her phone screen lit up.
6:00 PM.
Her chest tightened.
Everything from earlier—the laughter, the walk, the way Aiden had looked at her like he could see something she didn't want anyone to—
it all slipped away.
Not because it didn't matter.
But because this mattered more.
She grabbed her bag and left.
She stepped into a taxi, her mind set on getting home before the day ran away from her.
The taxi smelled faintly of old leather and air freshener.
Lily sat upright, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
She didn't check her phone.
Didn't look outside too much.
Her mind was already somewhere else.
She wasn't scared of her mother being angry.
She was scared of being wrong.
Wrong daughter.
Wrong presence.
Wrong memory.
She was the only daughter.
She had a brother.Her brother—by blood—was five years older than her.
a boy who learned early how to survive by obeying.
"Be a good daughter for this family," he used to say.
"Don't do stupid things again."
She remembered being younger.Once, she had been bright. Loud. The kind of child who filled rooms with questions and laughter. Somewhere along the way, she learned that silence kept things calmer. That shrinking made life easier.
That girl disappeared slowly—
not in one moment,
but in many small ones.
Her mother remarried.
A man with money.
A man with manners.
A man who never raised his voice.
Lily wasn't hurt by her stepfather's presence. She never had been. He existed like furniture in this house—present, distant, never warm. Lily hadn't wanted this marriage. She still didn't. But that wasn't where the ache came from.
The house appeared at the end of the street.
Lily's stomach twisted.
She reached the house before seven.
It stood there the same way it always did—large, polished, expensive. A home that looked perfect from the outside. Lily hated how beautiful it was. The gate opened with a low metallic sound that always made her chest tighten, like the house was swallowing her whole.
She stepped inside.
The air felt heavier here. Cooler. Not cold—but distant. Like affection had never learned how to stay.
Her heels touched the stone path carefully as she walked toward the door, each step measured, controlled. When she rang the bell, she straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin the way she had learned to do over the years.
The door opened.
"Oh, my baby… you're finally here."
Mrs. Bennett's voice was warm, wrapped in relief and joy. The elderly woman pulled Lily into a hug before she could even respond, her arms soft but strong, smelling faintly of lavender and tea.
For a moment, just one—the tension inside Lily loosened.
"I missed you," Mrs. Bennett murmured, brushing Lily's hair back with a fond smile.
Lily smiled too. Small, but real.
"Good evening, Mrs. Bennett. How have you been—"
She stopped.
The warmth behind her vanished.
Cold eyes met hers from across the room. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. A face untouched by worry. Her mother stood there, expression unreadable, like Lily was a guest who had arrived slightly late—not a daughter who had come home.
"Come inside, Lily," her mother said.
Then her gaze dropped.
"And what are you wearing?"
The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be.
Lily's fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of her dress. She lowered her eyes, nodding slightly, the way she always did.
I haven't seen you in so long, she thought.
You look beautiful… So, this is the life you wanted…
You look happy here mom.
The realization hurt more than anger ever could.
She stepped inside fully, the door closing behind her with a soft, final sound. The house lights reflected off polished floors and expensive furniture—everything curated, everything intentional. And yet, Lily had never felt more out of place.
It came from standing in front of her mother and feeling like love was something she had failed to earn.
Mrs. Bennett squeezed her hand gently, as if she understood without needing words.
Lily breathed in slowly.
She would get through tonight.
She always did.
End of chapter 15