For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the library didn’t exist—only the thrum of silence, her ragged breath, and his steady, burning stare.

Clara’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no sound came. She quickly turned her face away, pressing herself tighter against the wall.

Cole lingered a second longer, searching her expression, before pulling back with a slow, sly smile.

“Fine,” he murmured, stepping away.

“Don’t tell me. But I’ll find out. And when I do…” His eyes glinted. “…I hope you’re ready.”

Clara didn’t answer. She couldn’t because for the first time in a long time, Clara was shaken and Cole knew it.

A new week began, and Clara desperately prayed not to cross paths with Cole.

“So far so good” she sighed as she walked into her last class for the day. She was in her third year and a History Major student

Clara slipped into her history lecture, choosing her usual quiet seat near the middle. She opened her notebook just as Professor Grant’s booming voice filled the hall.He was tall, slightly stooped, with spectacles lieing on the bridge of his nose.

“History isn’t just about dates, ladies and gentlemen. It’s about patterns. Empires rise, empires fall… and often, it’s the same mistakes repeated across centuries. Tell me—why did Rome fall?” Professor Grant said.

Clara quickly scribbled down the question, her pen racing to catch his every word.

“Today we’re diving into the fall of the Roman Empire. A fascinating case study of power, corruption, and collapse. Pay close attention—it might surprise you how relevant this still is today.”

“The empire wasn’t destroyed in a single day,” Professor Grant continued, his voice echoing. “It crumbled over years. Internal decay, political infighting, economic weakness. Remember—empires rarely fall because of outside attacks.

“Not because of enemies alone. It was rotten from the inside…greed, betrayal, decadence. They fall because of what’s rotting within. A lesson for every generation.”

Clara barely noticed the shuffle beside her until a shadow fell across her notes. She turned, and her breath hitched.

Her brows furrowed. Seriously? Who tries to look like a wanted criminal during History 203?

A cap pulled low. A black face mask. And those eyes.

Her stomach twisted…no Impossible.

The stranger tugged down the mask, smirking.

“Morning,” Cole whispered.

Clara’s mouth fell open. She nearly let out a gasp but slapped her hand over her lips. Her wide eyes darted to the front of the hall, praying the professor hadn’t noticed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, leaning closer.

Cole leaned back casually, flipping open a notebook as though he belonged there. “Learning, obviously.”

“You don’t even take this class!” she snapped under her breath. “You’re supposed to be in Business!”

“Shhh.” Cole raised a finger to his lips. “Professor’s talking. Don’t want us both to get kicked out, do you?”

“Cole—”

“I said shhh,” he whispered back, actually scribbling nonsense lines across the page. He angled it toward her, revealing doodles of hockey sticks and a very poorly drawn Roman colosseum.

Infuriated, Clara turned back to her notes, her pen stabbing the paper with every word. She tried to focus on Professor Grant’s lecture about crumbling civilizations, but Cole kept scribbling nonsense beside her like a child pretending to study.

The professor’s voice rose again. “And what do we learn from Rome’s fall, class? Power means nothing without stability. No empire, no matter how great, is untouchable.”

Cole leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Untouchable, huh? Sounds like someone I know.”

Clara’s heart stuttered, and she gripped her pen tighter. She turned to him, whispering through clenched teeth. “If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll—”

“Miss Bennett,” Professor Grant’s voice snapped. Clara froze. He was peering over his glasses at her. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

Her face turned crimson red . “N-no, Professor. Just—just taking notes.”

Cole leaned back in his chair, smug as ever, tapping his pen against the desk. “Yeah, just notes,” he said under his breath, flashing her a grin.

Clara wanted to sink into the floor. She held her pen tightly almost snapping it in half

“This boy is going to be the death of me” she whispered to herself.

The clock couldn’t move fast enough.

When the lecture finally ended, Clara shoved her books into her bag, stood up, and stormed toward the door.

“Clara, wait—”

“No.” She didn’t even look at him.

But Cole caught up, walking beside her in the hallway, persistent as ever. “Why are you always running away from me?”

She stopped so quickly that he nearly collided with her. Turning to face him, her eyes flashed.

“What’s your problem, Cole? Do you think this is funny? You sneak into my class, follow me around—why? Do you think I’m some game ? a cheap thing? a slut? Or are you just angry that I don't follow you around?”.

Cole blinked at her, caught off guard by the sharpness in her tone. “ That's not it Clara…Can't you see that I want you?”

“I hate boys like you,” Clara spat, her voice steady but edged like glass. “Players who think they can charm their way into anything. Stay…Away…From... Me.”

Her words landed like punches. Students passing in the corridor glanced their way, whispering, but Clara didn’t care. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, turned on her heel, and marched off.

Cole stood frozen for a moment, staring after her. For the first time, her anger didn’t feel like casual annoyance. It felt like something personal, something deeper.

And now, he had to know why. He swore to himself that he would not stop until he cracked her walls.