Sofia's view

She doesn't remember the night we spent together. Why would she? She has Reginald, and they look perfect together. Picture-perfect. Meanwhile, I'm here, drowning in memories of her laugh, her touch, the way her eyes lit up that night. How could she forget something that burned itself into my soul?

I see them together, and it's like a knife twisting in my chest. Reginald doesn't know her like I do. He doesn't know how she smiles when she's nervous or how her voice shakes when she has a panic attack. He doesn't even know what to do when she gets it. But I do. And still, she chose him.

I can't take it anymore. I stop in the hallway and sit in a corner. My tears are flowing down my face in streams. It hurts so much. – I have to be strong – I whisper, then get up and go to our dorm. I stood in front of our door, my hand frozen on the handle. Just open it, Sofia. It's your room too. But my body wouldn't move. The thought of stepping inside, of seeing her—of facing the mess I'd made—was unbearable. My chest tightened, and my breathing quickened, each shallow gasp more frantic than the last.

My heart was pounding so hard it drowned out every other sound. What was I so afraid of? The answer clawed at the back of my mind, but I refused to let it surface. I wouldn't let her see me like this. I couldn't let her see me like this.

The anger came out of nowhere, swallowing the fear whole. My fist slammed into the wall before I even realized what I was doing. It wasn't enough. The pain in my knuckles didn't match the storm in my chest. So I did it again. And again. Until my hand throbbed and tears blurred my vision. – What's wrong with me? – I mutter, but the words didn't feel like mine. My head hit the wall next, a sharp, punishing crack that echoed down the empty hallway. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor. The last thing I felt was the cold stone beneath me before everything went black.

When I woke up, the fluorescent lights above me burned my eyes. I groaned, turning my head—and there she was. Pansy, sitting on the chair beside my bed, her arms crossed and her face unreadable. – What are you doing here? – my voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn't care. I couldn't deal with her right now. Not after everything.

- Making sure you're not dead, obviously – she snapped, her eyes narrowing. – You scared the hell out of me.

- Well, you can leave now. I don't need your pity.

She didn't move. – I'm not going anywhere.

– I don't need you to babysit me, Pansy – I snap, turning my face away from her. My head is pounding, and the metallic taste of blood lingers on my tongue, but I refuse to let her see how broken I feel. – You've done enough.

– Enough? – her voice is sharp, laced with disbelief. – You call me finding you unconscious in a damn hallway enough? What the hell were you thinking, Sofia? Were you even thinking at all?

– I was thinking about how much better it would be if you weren't here – I lie, every word cutting my throat like glass. I see the flash of hurt on her face, there for only a moment before she replaces it with that cold, unshakable mask. But I notice it. I notice the way her fingers twitch, the way her shoulders tense.

– Fine – she says, her voice ice-cold as she stands abruptly. – You want me gone? Wish granted. – She spins on her heel, but I catch the slight tremble in her voice before she slams the door behind her. The sound echoes, leaving me alone with nothing but the erratic rhythm of my breathing.

The silence swallows me whole, pressing down on my chest like a weight I can't shake. My hands tremble as I clutch the blanket draped over me, the rough fabric grounding me just enough to stop the tears threatening to spill. But it's not enough. Nothing feels like enough.

I stare at the door she slammed, the echo of her footsteps fading into the hallway. I want to hate her. I want to scream at her for caring, for showing up when I'm barely holding myself together. But the anger fizzles out as quickly as it came, leaving only the ache. The same ache that's been gnawing at me since that night.

My head drops back against the pillow, and I close my eyes, willing the numbness to return. It doesn't. All I can see is her face—the flash of pain I put there—and it's unbearable. I bite down hard on my lip, the taste of blood a cruel reminder of how much I've already broken.

The sound of the door slamming echoes through the hallway, but I barely register it. My fingers curl into the blanket as I try to steady my breathing, to push away the aching in my chest. Then the door bursts open again.

– You really think you can just say that and be done with it? – Pansy storms in, her eyes blazing, her steps unsteady but determined.

I don't even have the strength to respond. I just look at her, exhausted and raw. And then she's there, standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off her skin.

– I hate you – she mutters, but the words are barely audible before she grabs my face and kisses me. It's not soft or sweet. It's desperate, full of anger and confusion.

I push her away, my breath caught in my throat. – What the hell are you doing?

– I don't know! – she yells, her voice cracking as she backs away, her hands trembling. – I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Sofia.

I stand there, frozen, long after she's backed away, my mind racing to catch up with what just happened. My lips burn from the force of hers, and my chest feels like it's been cracked open, raw and exposed. Every breath feels like a battle, every second a war between anger and something I can't even name.

The room tilts as the adrenaline floods through me, my hands shaking as I force myself to move. I pace aimlessly, trying to shove the memory of her mouth on mine to the back of my mind. It doesn't work. It's there, seared into me, as vivid as the chaos of my own heartbeat.

And then it hits me—a sharp clarity cutting through the fog. If she thinks she can just leave me like this, shattered and undone, she's wrong. Before I can second-guess myself, I stride toward her, the sound of my footsteps purposeful and sharp.

When I reach her, I grab her collar and pull her to me, crushing my lips against hers with the same desperate intensity she gave me. It's not gentle, not careful—it's all frustration, all fury, all of the things I've been too afraid to say. And for a fleeting moment, it feels like she understands.

Her breath hitches against my lips, and for a second, she doesn't move, frozen in the shock of my retaliation. But then her hands come up, grasping my wrists, not to push me away but to steady herself. The heat between us is suffocating, our shared anger and confusion spilling over into something neither of us knows how to control. When I finally pull back, I'm panting, my grip on her collar still firm. Her wide, stunned eyes meet mine, and in that split second, I see everything—her fear, her defiance, her undeniable want. But the silence between us stretches, unbearable, as if the weight of what we've just done is too much for either of us to put into words.

- I love you – she whispers.

- I love you too.