EIRA'S POV
"I'm so happy for you, Tessy."
"Peter is so caring, kind, and handsome."
"You're so lucky to have a boyfriend like him."
I'd been hearing those words all morning.
The entire college seemed captivated by Tessy and Peter. Everywhere I turned, people showered them with congratulations, exchanged knowing smiles, and gushed about how perfect they were together.
No one knew the truth.
No one knew that the man standing beside Tessy was nothing like the person he pretended to be.
I'd tried talking to her repeatedly, but she refused to look at me, let alone listen. Every attempt ended the same way—with her turning away and Peter watching me with that infuriating, self-satisfied smirk.
Then his voice cut through the classroom.
"I don't know how some people can sink so low out of jealousy."
His gaze settled on me.
Cold. Accusatory. Almost triumphant.
My fingers curled into fists beneath the desk. I wanted to tear apart that smug expression, to expose every lie he'd fed Tessy, but before I could utter a word, she slipped her arm through his.
"Can we leave now?"
Peter's expression transformed. The contempt vanished, replaced by a tenderness so convincing that, for one bitter second, I understood why Tessy believed him.
"Why are you sad?" he murmured, taking her hand. "You don't need anyone else as long as I'm with you. No one can separate us. You're my everything."
He raised her hand to his lips.
"You're mine. I love you."
Something twisted painfully beneath my ribs.
Tessy… why won't you believe me?
Why can't you see what he's really like?
I shoved my chair back and stormed out before my anger could spill over. I needed air. Distance. Something—anything—to keep me from turning around and dragging the truth into the open myself.
Then a desperate scream pierced the corridor.
"Please! Don't do this! Please, leave me alone!"
I stopped dead.
"Please! You can't do this! I'll die! Just let me go, please!"
My blood ran cold.
I hurried toward the voice, my footsteps quickening as the pleas grew louder. Rounding the corner, I spotted a girl on her knees beside a pillar, her shoulders shaking violently. Someone stood behind her, partially obscured from view.
"Please… I won't tell anyone. I swear."
A familiar voice answered.
Cold. Flat. Merciless.
"You're coming with me."
Adrian.
My stomach lurched.
"Please, don't do this, Adrian!" The girl clutched at the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Please! I… I'm pregnant. At least think of the child!"
I stopped breathing.
Pregnant?
My gaze snapped to Adrian.
Why was she saying this to him? What had happened between them? And why did she look at him as though he were something to fear?
"Stop crying."
He sounded almost bored.
"You're coming with me. Right now."
He seized her arm and hauled her upright.
"No! Please, Adrian!"
Her scream tore through the corridor.
I took a step forward, my pulse hammering, but before I could reach them, a flurry of footsteps erupted behind me.
There was a sudden movement.
A sharp, sickening thud.
The girl crumpled to the floor.
For one suspended second, I couldn't move. Then instinct took over, and I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees.
"What happened to you?" I cried, gripping her shoulders. "What did you do to her?"
Her eyes remained shut.
"Hey! Open your eyes!"
I shook her gently, panic tightening its grip on my throat.
"Somebody help!"
"What is going on here?"
The principal's voice thundered through the corridor. He hurried toward us, his expression hardening at the sight of the unconscious girl.
"Call the doctor. Now!"
A peon immediately bolted toward the medical room.
I barely noticed.
My attention had locked onto Adrian.
He hadn't moved.
He stood a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest, his expression so composed that it seemed almost obscene.
The girl lay unconscious at our feet. Moments earlier, she'd been begging him to let her go.
And he looked as though nothing had happened.
How could he stand there like that?
How could he be so utterly unaffected?
For the first time, I found myself looking at Adrian and wondering whether I'd ever really seen him at all.
Half an hour later, we crowded outside the medical room.
Tessy. Peter. Half our class. The principal.
Everyone had gathered, drawn by the commotion and the rumours already spreading through the college.
Everyone except Adrian.
I couldn't stop seeing the girl's face whenever I closed my eyes. The terror in her expression. The desperation in her voice. The way she'd clung to the floor as though it were her last chance to escape him.
Please, don't do this.
He hadn't even hesitated.
He never listens.
Finally, the doctor emerged.
"Is it serious, Doctor?" the principal asked.
The doctor shook his head. "She fainted due to extreme stress. There's nothing serious otherwise."
A collective breath of relief passed through the group.
Then the doctor added, "Did you know she's pregnant?"
"What?"
The principal's expression darkened.
The word struck me with renewed force.
Pregnant.
We followed the doctor inside.
The girl lay against the pillows, her face drained of colour, her eyelids swollen from crying. Seeing her there, so small and vulnerable beneath the white sheets, made something inside me ache.
So this was Claira.
"Ms. Claira, how are you feeling?" the principal asked gently.
"I'm… okay, sir," she whispered.
"Do you know that you're pregnant?"
Her eyes glistened. She nodded.
The principal pulled a chair closer to the bed.
"Who is the father of this child, Ms. Claira?"
Silence.
Claira lowered her head, twisting the bedsheet between trembling fingers.
"Claira," the principal urged patiently, "you don't need to be afraid. Just tell us the truth."
I moved to her bedside and gently took her hand. Her fingers felt cold against mine.
"No one will hurt you," I whispered. "Not you. Not your child. Just tell the truth."
Her grip tightened around my hand.
For a moment, I thought she might finally speak. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
The principal's patience began to wear thin.
"If you refuse to tell us, I'm sorry, but I'll have no choice but to rusticate you from this college."
Claira's head snapped up.
Fear flooded her face.
"Sir, please—"
"I am the father of her child."
The voice came from the doorway.
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
Slowly, I turned.
Adrian stood against the doorframe, his arms folded loosely across his chest. His face revealed nothing. Not embarrassment. Not apprehension. Not even the faintest trace of regret.
My mind went blank.
Adrian?
Him?
The room seemed to tilt, and I tightened my hold on Claira's hand to steady myself.
"No…"
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
He couldn't be.
He wouldn't—
He's not like this.
But the memory of Claira's screams crashed through every desperate excuse I tried to make for him.
The principal rose to his feet, his expression hardening.
"I didn't expect this from you, Adrian."
His voice sharpened with anger.
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
Adrian didn't so much as blink.
"Adrian, wha—"
Claira's trembling voice faltered.
He looked at her.
"I'll take responsibility for the child," he said evenly. "This is my matter. We're both of legal age. You can leave now."
The principal stared at him in disbelief.
"This isn't simply a matter of responsibility, Adrian. You brought a pregnant student to the brink of collapse."
Adrian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his expression remained otherwise unreadable.
Then Tessy stepped forward.
"I knew it from the start."
Her voice shook with fury.
"Only you could sink this low."
She looked at him as though he disgusted her.
"I don't even want to look at you."
She stormed out, Peter following close behind.
The others began filing out, their whispers trailing after them.
"Unbelievable."
"How could he do that?"
"She was begging him."
"I always thought there was something wrong with him."
"Disgusting."
Each word struck like another nail driven into a coffin.
Adrian remained where he was.
He didn't defend himself. Didn't offer an explanation. Didn't even glance at the people condemning him.
He simply stood there, allowing their accusations to wash over him as though none of them had the power to touch him.
And somehow, that silence frightened me more than any excuse could have.
One by one, the room emptied.
Until only a few of us remained.
Then—
It was just us.
Claira on the bed.
Adrian by the door.
And me, standing between the truth I'd witnessed and the truth I couldn't bring myself to accept.
I searched my mind for another explanation. Any explanation.
There had to be something I was missing.
But every possibility shattered against the same memory: Claira on her knees, pleading with him to let her go.
"Adrian…"
His name emerged from my throat in a whisper.
His eyes shifted to mine.
Black. Unreadable. As impenetrable as a locked door.
I searched them desperately, hoping to find something familiar beneath that chilling indifference. A flicker of the man I thought I knew. A sign that this was all some terrible misunderstanding.
Nothing.
"Why?"
My voice trembled despite my efforts to steady it.
"Why would you do this?"
He said nothing.
Not a word.
The silence stretched between us until I could barely endure it. My chest constricted, and the room seemed to sway beneath my feet.
I reached for the edge of the bed, but my fingers missed.
My knees buckled.
Before I could hit the floor, an arm locked around my waist while another caught my shoulder.
Adrian.
A startled breath escaped me as he pulled me against him, holding me upright with effortless strength.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't move.
His hand was firm against my waist. His other arm braced me close, and the sudden proximity left me acutely aware of every point where we touched. I could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of my clothes, the solid strength beneath his shirt, the faint shift of his breathing.
He was close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
Close enough that I could have reached for him without moving my feet.
Once, that closeness might have made my heart race for entirely different reasons.
Now, it terrified me.
Because the arms holding me steady belonged to the same man who had stood motionless while a frightened girl begged him for mercy.
I stared up at him, searching his face.
His expression hadn't changed.
"Adrian…"
His name caught painfully in my throat.
For the briefest moment, neither of us moved. His grip remained secure around my waist, and I hated that some foolish part of me still wanted him to explain. To say something—anything—that would make the world feel solid beneath my feet again.
Then—
"Adrian!"
Claira's weak voice broke the silence.
I flinched.
My gaze darted toward her, and the reality of the situation crashed over me. His hand was still at my waist. His arm was still around me. I was standing in his embrace as though I had any reason left to trust him.
Panic surged through me.
I shoved against his chest and tore myself from his grasp.
"Don't."
The word came out ragged.
His arms fell to his sides.
I couldn't bear to look at him. Not at those unreadable eyes. Not at the face that refused to reveal what lay beneath its perfect composure.
I turned and ran.
Away from his touch.
Away from the silence that followed every question I asked.
Away from the man I had thought I understood.
I didn't stop to look back, even when the sting of unshed tears blurred my vision. I couldn't remain in that room for another second, not with the memory of his hands holding me and the image of Claira begging him fighting for space inside my head.
Because the most terrifying part wasn't that Adrian might be capable of cruelty.
It was that I'd never imagined he could be.
And as I fled, one question followed me like a shadow I couldn't outrun.
If Adrian really was the father of Claira's child…
then who was the man I'd believed he was?