Liora didn't stop walking until she reached the far end of campus.The music from the event had faded, the laughter replaced by the rustling of trees and her own uneven breathing.
She leaned against a bench, closing her eyes. "Why does he always have to ruin everything?" she muttered.
"Maybe because you never let him say what he means."
Her heart lurched.
Adrian's voice.
She spun around. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable — but his eyes… they weren't cold this time. They were raw. Tired.
"I told you to leave me alone," she said.
"You did." He took a step closer. "I didn't listen."
"Clearly."
"Liora." His tone softened. "Just—hear me out."
She laughed, bitter and sharp. "You don't talk, Adrian. You corner. You command. You make everything about power or control."
His jaw tightened. "Because I don't know how else to be with you."
The words hit harder than she expected.
Her voice dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair — a rare crack in his perfect composure. "You get under my skin. Every time I try to stay away, you pull me back. I tell myself I hate you for it, but…"
He stopped, eyes meeting hers."…I don't."
Liora's breath caught. "Don't do this."
"I'm not doing anything," he said quietly. "I'm trying to understand why I can't look at anyone else the way I look at you."
Her chest tightened painfully. "You're just confused. You don't like me, you like control. You can't stand when someone doesn't bend to you."
"Maybe," he admitted. "But if that's true… why does it hurt when you look at me like I'm the enemy?"
Liora shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her throat. "You've done everything to make sure I see you that way."
"I know," he said, stepping closer again. "And I hate myself for it."
His voice cracked just slightly — and that tiny break undid her more than any apology ever could.
She stepped back, but her heel caught on the edge of the path. Adrian's hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could fall.
The contact burned.Too close. Too familiar. Too much.
"Let go," she whispered.
He didn't. "Say you don't feel this," he murmured. "Look me in the eye and say it."
Her pulse thundered. The world around them blurred — just his voice, his breath, the way his thumb brushed her wrist like he was memorizing it.
"I—" she began, but the words tangled in her throat.
His eyes softened. "You can't."
Something in her snapped. She yanked her hand free and glared at him. "Because you confuse me, Adrian! You hurt me, then act like you care. You say things that— that make it impossible to hate you completely."
His breath hitched. "Then don't."
She froze.
For a second, it felt like the world stopped spinning. His confession hung between them, fragile and dangerous.
"Don't," she said weakly, stepping back. "Don't make this harder than it already is."
Adrian's voice dropped to a whisper. "It already is."
And with that, he turned and walked away — not with anger this time, but something heavier. Something that looked a lot like regret.
Liora sank onto the bench, shaking. Her heart felt like it had been ripped open.
For the first time, she realized the truth:This wasn't hate anymore.And that terrified her more than anything else.