Ayla's POV
Even if fate decided to mock me, I would fight it.
I would choose anywhere else.
Everywhere else in this world was fine as long as it had no Elena Morgan.
The idea of seeing her face every morning in another hallway, another lecture hall, made my chest tighten until it hurt to breathe.
I needed distance, a clean, quiet kind of distance where my name wouldn't be whispered next to hers.
I stood there in my room, sunlight spilling weakly through the window blinds, assuring myself that this was it, this was where our bond ended.
Days went by, and everything moved forward the way I wanted it to, from transcript preparation and college paperwork, to clearance and checkout, to senior events and graduation rehearsals, to the graduation itself.
Families began arriving for the ceremony, and Elena wouldn't stop reminding me how we were both going to the same college. Her words felt more like a threat than excitement.
But I didn't let it shake me. My mind was made up.
Nothing would make me attend the same college as her, even if it meant sacrificing a year.
Then graduation day came.
It arrived with fanfare and noise, cars pulling up the long driveway, chauffeurs unloading gift baskets and luggage. The air shimmered with perfume, camera flashes, and excitement. Parents in designer clothes, siblings holding bouquets, the golden gate of Solaria shining like something sacred.
Everything screamed luxury.
For the first time in my two years at Solaria, I got a clear picture of what kind of people the academy truly belonged to.
"No wonder they all treat people like us like nothing," I murmured as a black Rolls Royce passed beside me, followed by a convoy of sleek cars. "Are they doing some kind of political campaign? Because this can't be for high school graduation."
Three black luxury cars glided through the golden archway like they owned it because, technically, they did. The Morgan crest gleamed on each door, a gold sun wrapped in laurel. Students stopped in their tracks, murmurs rippling through the crowd.
The first car door opened, and a man in his late forties stepped out, tall, poised, hair slicked neatly back, probably Louis Morgan, Elena's father. Then a woman followed, graceful and impossibly elegant. She looked thirty, though everyone knew she was older. Wealth had preserved her beauty. She was no one but Celine Morgan, Elena's mother.
But it was the last car that drew the most attention.
From it emerged Lord Otis Morgan, Elena's grandfather, founder of Solaria Academy, the man whose signature was carved into the marble plaque in the main hall. Age had silvered his hair but not dimmed the sharp pride in his eyes.
The headmaster himself rushed forward, bowing slightly as he greeted him. But Lord Otis's gaze passed over everyone until it landed on Elena, and instantly, his expression softened.
"My little queen," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard as he stretched out his arms.
Elena came running, her uniform replaced by an elegant white dress, soft waves brushing her shoulders. Her usual composure cracked for just a moment as she hugged him.
"You've done well again," the old man said fondly, pressing a small velvet box into her hand, the kind of gift only a Morgan could afford.
"Papa, you shouldn't," she said softly.
"Nonsense. The academy bears our name, and you bear my pride. As the queen, you deserve the best and will surely have it," he said, smiling at her and gently stroking her hair backward.
The cameras clicked. Teachers smiled. And for a moment, it felt like the whole world had turned to honor Elena Morgan's graduation.
I stood off to the side, watching as her grandfather showered her with gifts and flowers, the crowd eating up every moment.
Finally, my family arrived late, of course. My mother, my younger brother, and Damson my cousin, all dressed neatly, though their clothes were clearly secondhand. Their car, an old silver sedan, coughed smoke as it parked near the field.
"Wow," my cousin whispered, eyes wide at the sea of luxury vehicles. "Even their drivers wear suits."
I smiled faintly. "Yeah. Solaria likes to show off."
"No, this is not show off, this is screaming wealth and more like you don't belong here," he said, smiling and teasing me, mouth still open as he admired the whole place.
Mother hugged me tight, whispering how proud she was, how all her sacrifices were worth it. I nodded, even though her words didn't quite reach me.
The ceremony began beneath the marble stage.
Students filed in, shoes polished, gold sashes glowing over white uniforms.
Elena sat two rows ahead, posture perfect, sunlight catching her hair like spun glass.
When her name was called for "Best in Leadership" and "Excellence in Literature," the applause was thunderous.
Yes, best in leading puppets like me.
I clapped for her anyway.
When the ceremony ended, chaos spilled over the field, photos, hugs, tears, parents crying. I stood with my family for pictures, trying to ignore the tight ache in my chest.
Then I heard it.
"Ayla."
I turned. Elena stood beneath the shade of the main archway, diploma in hand, her expression unreadable.
"Wait for me after everyone leaves," she said with a small smile. "Come to the fountain at the back of the school. I need to talk to you, it's important. I want to make some amends. Please come, I would be grateful if you can come."
For a second, I thought I'd misheard her. Please, grateful, and amends, coming from Elena?
But she walked away before I could ask.
My heart fluttered painfully. Maybe she finally wanted to make things right. Maybe she'd realized how badly she'd treated me.
So I waited.
I took more pictures with my family, mostly with my cousin Damson, who wouldn't stop talking about how much he'd missed me, how long two years had felt. He kept lifting me in hugs like when we were kids.
One by one, students left. The laughter thinned, the field emptied, cars rolled away through the gates. Even the photographers packed up.
Rain clouds gathered, heavy and slow.
When my family prepared to leave, I lied. I told them I needed to pack a few things and would catch up later.
Then I went to the back of the fountain.
I waited. Minutes. Hours. Longer hours.
The drizzle started light, just silver drops turning the grass soft. Then it grew heavier, washing the courtyard in cold silence.
"She'll come," I whispered to myself. "She said she would, I trust her."
I thought about stepping under the archway to hide from the rain, but the thought stopped me.
What if she came and didn't find me here, right where she told me to wait? What if that was how we lost our chance to end this properly?
So I stayed. Soaked. Shivering.
I was still there, drenched, when Sophie and her friends walked by, laughing, phones raised, recording.
"Can you believe she's still waiting?" one of them said. "Elena really got her trained well."
"Obedient Ayla," Sophie added, flashing her camera light toward me. "Still waiting, when Elena's already gone."
Their laughter echoed through the rain as they walked away.
My chest went hollow.
That was when it hit me. Maybe Elena never meant to come. Maybe it was just a joke. Or worse, maybe it was planned, a final act of humiliation before she left Solaria behind.
A tear slipped down my cheek, lost in the rain.
I clutched my ruined diploma and whispered,
"That was her last gift to me, humiliation. And I hope it remains the last and we never meet again. Let this be the end of it all."
I turned to leave. I'd barely taken a few steps toward the gate when a black Rolls Royce zoomed past, splashing water across me.
I looked up, and through the tinted glass, I saw her.
Elena Morgan.
Her head rested lightly against the car window, face calm, almost bored, the same look she'd worn every time she ignored me.
"Of course," I whispered, trembling. "She never meant to come. She's Solaria's queen. Queens don't make amends. I was the fool for thinking she would."
I watched the car disappear into the distance until the red lights vanished behind the rain.
Then I walked home, soaked, silent, and empty.
That night was the last time I saw her.
The last time I heard her voice.
When I got home, I waited for days. Weeks. Hoping maybe she'd call, maybe she'd say it was a misunderstanding.
But nothing came.
So I changed my SIM card. Deleted everything tied to Solaria. Went to a small local college and never looked back.
Until today, seven years later, when I walked into Solaria Manhattan and found her sitting behind the desk.
My new boss.
Elena Morgan.