( You ever listen? Sometimes fate gambles with your life—plays with your emotions just to see how long you can survive).
And it's true.
(See me here? I'm standing outside a university… his university) .
(The worst part? He's my senior.
The bigger, worse part? I'll have to see him every single day on this campus. That cold gaze, that unreadable expression…
God, if you want to punish me, punish me perfectly—not with these "do or die" games every time).
(I sigh and look up at the sky—it's calm, almost mocking. Then I turn back. Mom's standing a few feet away, smiling like she just dropped her daughter into paradise. She looks so happy).
I smile too—it's forced, but I still do. I wave. She waves back.
(And then I turn around, facing the huge iron gates of Cambridge Royal University—the place that looks more like a cinematic dream than a college) .
The moment I step in, it feels like stepping into another world.
( The air smells faintly of coffee and new beginnings. A line of perfectly trimmed trees flanks the stone pathway, their autumn leaves scattered like gold dust on the ground).
(Students laugh in little groups, camera phones flashing, their laughter echoing off the old walls. The main building rises ahead—massive glass windows reflecting sunlight, while ancient carvings on the stone pillars tell stories from centuries ago).
(Paintings hang across the entrance corridor—vintage art, portraits of old deans, and even one of the founder whose stern eyes seem to follow you wherever you go).
(The marble floors shine so perfectly that you can see your reflection in them. Above, chandeliers hang like clusters of stars, making the sunlight dance across the hall).
(To my right, a spiral staircase curls upward, leading to the old library tower—one of the most famous in London. I've seen it in photos before, but seeing it now feels unreal).
"Welcome to Cambridge Royal," asoft voice says beside me.
(I turn—and a friendly girl with honey-blonde hair and with the beautiful smile standing front of me).
"You must be new here," she says cheerfully. "I'm Ava. First-year economics?"
"Yeah," I manage to smile. "Aira."
"Cool," she says, adjusting her backpack. "Let's go together. I'll show you where the registration desk is."
( I nod and fall into step beside her. Her energy is bright, warm—the kind of person who could make the sun jealous).
(Ava and I walk toward the registration desk. They hand us our timetables, then our ID cards—mine still feels strange in my hand—and finally, a map of the campus so we don't get lost).
[I'm staring at the map while walking beside Ava when she turns to me].
"So, you're new here too?" she asks with a bright smile. "What's your subject?"
I glance at her. "Ahh… majoring in English Literature ."
Her smile widens for a second, then fades a little. "Oh, that's nice… but sad too," she sighs. "I'm majoring in Economics. So, I guess we'll be in different classes."
I give her a small smile. "Don't worry. After class, we'll meet for lunch, okay?"
Her face lights up again. "That's a nice idea! Lunch together it is." She raises her hand. "High five?
( I hesitate for a second, then smile and meet her hand with mine).
"Okay," she says happily. "It's a deal! We're friends now. And listen—after class l be waiting outside your class, alright?"
I nod. "Okay."
( We keep walking until we reach a hallway where two paths split in different directions).
Ava glances at her map. "Umm, I have to go left. So… see you after class, at lunch break. Bye!"
"Bye!" I wave back, watching her disappear into the crowd.
(Then I turn toward the right hallway, eyes still glued to the map, trying to figure out where my first class is. And that's when it happens—
I bump into someone. Hard).
I look up immediately.
(He's tall—definitely taller than me. I'm 5'6", and he must be around 5'9" or maybe even 6 feet. Light brown hair, fair skin, and that smirk—God, that smirk—it sits on his lips like it belongs there).
He's handsome. Too handsome.
"I'm sorry," I murmur quickly and try to walk past him.
(But before I can, his hand lifts, stopping me in my tracks).
He smirks. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you bumped into me. Now you've got to pay me back. I'm not letting you off with just a sorry."
[ I take a step back, narrowing my eyes].
"I said I'm sorry, nah. What do you want now?"
His smirk widens. "Sweetheart, sorry doesn't give anyone anything, okay? So here's the deal—tell me your name and what you're doing here, then you can go."
I tilt my head slightly, jaw clenching.
"And why would I do that? Why should I give you my name or tell you what doing here ?"
(He leans forward, lowering himself to meet my eyes. His voice drops, playful yet teasing).
"If you don't tell me, I'll just say to everyone you're my girlfriend."
(The word girlfriend slips from his mouth, and I freeze, my lips parting before I can stop them).
He chuckles softly. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm joking. Don't look so flustered."
I exhale sharply, trying to steady my voice. "Listen, just move. I'm already late for my class."
( He takes a step closer, his presence heavy, his smirk never fading. I tilt my head back slightly to maintain distance).
"If you want to go," he says, voice low and smooth, "then tell me your name, sweetheart. And what subject are you studying here?"
I sigh. "Okay, fine. I'm Aira… and I'm doing Economics major."
{ A lie. I just want him to stop bothering me and I don't want any more troubles}.
He repeats my name slowly, tasting every letter. "Aira…" He says it like he's testing how it sounds rolling off his tongue. Then he steps back, swinging his hand casually.
"Now you can go, sweetheart."
( I stand there for a second, staring up at him—my neck starting to ache from looking so high—and then quickly walk past him).
[Behind me, I hear his voice again].
"Sweetheart, I'm Luka. Don't forget me."
His chuckle follows, light but teasing, echoing down the hallway.
( I shake my head and keep walking, eyes flicking between the map and the hallway ahead—I definitely don't want to bump into anyone again).
Finally, I find my classroom.
[ When I step inside, my eyes widen slightly. It's… beautiful].
(The walls are decorated with quotes from famous authors, some of my absolute favorites. Each quote is framed neatly, written in elegant calligraphy. Sunlight spills through tall glass windows, warming the soft wooden desks arranged in perfect rows. There's a faint smell of old books and fresh paint—a mix that feels oddly comforting).
(The front wall has a large digital screen for lectures, and beside it, a notice board pinned with class schedules and upcoming events. The atmosphere feels alive, intellectual… inspiring).
I take a slow breath, smiling softly to myself.
Okay, I whisper in my head. Maybe this place won't be that bad after all.
(I walk into the class and spot an empty seat. It's in the fourth row, near the middle. The classroom has two doors—one at the back and one at the front, where I entered from).
(I go and sit down, dropping my bag beside me. The girl next to me is busy scribbling something in her notebook. I hesitate for a second, then tap her shoulder lightly).
"Hey," I say softly.
She glances up, gives me a small smile, then goes right back to writing.
(I blink. Okay… maybe she doesn't like talking much).
Before I can overthink it, a voice comes from beside her. I turn my head.
(The girl sitting there looks like she walked straight out of a fashion magazine—tall, maybe 5'8, long black hair like mine, and flawless skin. But her expression is sharp, confident… the kind that screams don't mess with me. Her outfit doesn't look like something an English literature major would wear—more like she belongs to the fashion design department).
"Don't feel bad," she says with a light chuckle. "She's always like this. Total introvert."
She reaches out her hand. "By the way, I'm Mila."
I smile and shake her hand. "I'm Aira."
(The girl with the notebook finally looks up at me. Up close, I can see she's wearing glasses, her hair tied in a loose bun. She's in baggy clothes—simple, comfortable—but still somehow… pretty. There's a softness in her pale skin and her shy eyes).
"I'm Rhea," she says softly. "Sorry if I made you feel bad. I just… got something in my mind, and I had to write it down before I forgot."
I shake my head quickly. "No, no, it's okay. I disturbed you."
(She gives a hesitant smile, small but genuine, and nods before going back to her notebook).
Mila leans a little closer to me and whispers, "Don't worry, you'll get used to her. She's quiet, but once she opens up—total sweetheart."
I smile faintly. "Good to know."
(The classroom starts filling up, the low buzz of voices mixing with the sound of chairs dragging across the floor. I glance toward the door, not knowing that the moment it opens again, my world is about to twist all over once more).
The lecture walks in, holding a few books in his hands.
"Class, now everyone sit at your desks," he says firmly.
(The murmurs and soft chatter fade instantly. Everyone straightens in their seats).
(He's a well-built man, maybe in his sixties, with gray hair brushed neatly back. But his voice—deep, calm, and steady—fills the entire room).
"I'm Mr. Harrison," he begins, placing his books on the desk. "And you're all here to pursue your English literature major, right? So let's start the first day by taking attendance."
(He opens the register and starts calling out names one by one).
Each student replies with a quick "present."
When my name comes, I respond quietly, "Present."
And then… the last name.
"Luca."
[Before anyone could answer, the front door bursts open].
My heart skips a beat as I turn my head.
There he is. Luca.
(His messy light-brown hair, his ever-present smirk—oh no, not here).
"Shit… no," I whisper under my breath.
(He walks in casually, one strap of his bag slung over his left shoulder, sweat on his forehead like he ran all the way here).
(I quickly duck my head, pretending to look for something in my bag, hoping—praying—he doesn't see me).
But luck never stays with me for long.
His voice rings through the class, playful and loud, "Aira!"
I freeze.
Every head turns toward me.
( I lift my face slowly, meeting his smug expression. He grins like he's just found his favorite target again).
"God…" I sigh under my breath, closing my eyes for a moment. "Why? First Rylan… and now Luca."
I lean back in my chair, defeated.
"Two men," I mutter to myself. "And both of them are definitely here to make my life hell."
Author's Note 🖋️
Hey everyone! I'm Veronica_Moon 🌙
This story has everything — enemies to lovers, step-sibling drama, emotions, and twists you won't see coming. 💥
If you're loving it so far, don't forget to add it to your collection, vote, and stay tuned — the real storm is still on the way. 🌪️
Love you all, and happy reading! 💖