Lola’s POV

When I approached Morgan after class, the silence between us felt heavier than it had that morning.

He sat at his desk, one hand drumming faintly on the surface, pretending to read his notes. But I knew he wasn’t focused. His eyes weren’t moving.

I took a slow breath and walked closer. “Morgan, about last night…”

He didn’t look up. “You don’t need to explain,” he said flatly. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. I believe what I saw.”

His words cut deeper than ...