~Lyra~

We pulled up in front of the school, but I didn’t move.

The car was still running. My chest was still tight. And even though the sun was up and teenagers were filing through the gates with backpacks and half-finished homework, I was still sitting here, thighs pressed together, mouth sore, and brain foggy from everything he made me feel.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Camilla had said. Not just the insults. Not just the jealousy. But that one line—“I’m ...