Her weakness

The campus had never felt so restless. Monday’s storm of whispers still lingered, but by midweek, chaos exploded.

Two spoiled heirs clashed in the courtyard shoving, shouting, their voices cutting through the air like blades. Students crowded in a circle, some cheering, others recording with their phones, hungry for drama.

“You don’t talk to me like that, bastard!” one of them roared, his fist flying.

The other ducked, laughing darkly. “Try me again and I’ll show you what real money can do!”

The crowd screamed as fists connected. A nose bled, a jaw cracked, and suddenly everyone was pulling back to avoid getting dragged into the billionaire brawl. Security tried to break them apart, but threats flew louder than punches.

“I’ll have my father shut down your father’s company!”

“You think your father scares me? Mine owns half this city!”

Someone screamed when a chair crashed onto the ground. Others shouted for teachers. And then came the chilling words that shifted the air.

“Call the police!”

“Get our parents down here! Let’s see who really runs this place!”

It was no longer just a fight. It was war. Privileged children of powerhouses threatening to use their parents’ wealth as weapons.

Phones flashed, recording everything, as if the world hadn’t seen enough scandals already.

Aria had been walking past, books in hand, when the fight broke into her path. She froze at the edge of the chaos, debating whether to turn back. Before she could, a wild punch flew too wide. Straight toward her.

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t move fast enough.

But an arm blocked the blow before it could connect. A hand gripped the attacker’s wrist mid-swing, twisting until the boy howled in pain. The courtyard stilled for a moment as everyone registered who had stepped in.

Damian Cole.

His voice was low, dangerous. “Hit someone your size.”

The boy cursed, tried to swing again, but Damian shoved him back with one brutal strike to the chest. The attacker stumbled, tripping over the curb. Silence fell before noise erupted again, louder, wilder.

Gasps filled the air. Whispers flew like sparks.

“Damian’s here!”

“Did you see that? He protected her!”

Aria’s heart thundered, but before she could process it, Damian turned to look at her. His gaze locked onto hers with a quiet intensity that made her throat go dry.

But she was already moving. She clutched her books tighter, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the building before the crowd could turn its full attention on her.

By the time Damian blinked, she was gone.

The sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple. Campus grew quieter as night crept in. Most students went home or to their hostels, buzzing still about the fight, gossip already twisting into scandal.

But one girl stayed behind.

Aria sat alone in the library, surrounded by towers of books she wasn’t reading. Her mind was a mess, replaying the image of Damian’s hand blocking that punch, the raw power in his voice, the way his eyes had found hers instantly.

She shut her book with a sigh. “Focus, Aria. He’s just another arrogant rich boy. Forget him.”

But her heart didn’t listen.

The library clock ticked toward 8 p.m., its hands slicing the silence. Only a handful of students remained scattered in corners. She scribbled notes furiously, desperate to drown her thoughts in ink and paper.

A shadow fell across her desk.

Her pen froze. Slowly, she looked up.

Damian.

Her pulse jumped, but she forced her voice steady. “What do you want?”

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed casually, his black shirt clinging to broad shoulders. The faint smirk on his lips told her he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“You keep running from me,” he said.

“Maybe because I don’t want you near me.”

“Maybe because you’re scared of what happens when I am.” His voice lowered, velvet and dangerous.

Her chest tightened. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Aria.” His tone wrapped around her name like it was something sacred. “I wasn’t going to let you get hurt out there. You know that, right?”

Her throat worked, but words refused to come. She hated the way his voice made her pulse quicken.

She looked back at her notes. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No. But you didn’t move either.”

Her head snapped up, fire in her eyes. “You think I owe you something?”

Damian leaned closer, his shadow falling deeper across her desk. His voice brushed her ear, low enough to make her breath falter. “I think you owe me your attention.”

Her pen slipped from her fingers. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You’ve thought about me.” He smirked, reading the flicker in her eyes. “Don’t bother denying it.”

She turned sharply to glare at him, but the movement was a mistake. He was leaning so close that when she shifted, her lips brushed against his.

The world stopped.

Her breath caught. His lips were warm, soft, startling against hers. Her heart slammed wildly, betraying every ounce of control she tried to hold.

Damian didn’t move, didn’t push just lingered close enough to let her decide. His voice was a whisper, rough and tempting. “See? You don’t hate me as much as you pretend.”

Her body betrayed her. She didn’t pull back immediately. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a heartbeat before reality crashed back in.

She jerked away, pushing her chair back with a screech. “You”

Before she could finish, a voice sliced through the silence of the library.

“Aria? Where are you?”

Her blood ran cold. It was one of her classmates, calling out as if the library belonged to them alone. Footsteps echoed closer.

Panic lit her veins. She scrambled to gather her books, heart racing as she avoided Damian’s eyes.

But Damian leaned closer one last time, his lips brushing the edge of her ear. “Run all you want. I’ll still find you.”

Her breath hitched.

The footsteps grew louder. Aria clutched her books to her chest and darted down the nearest aisle, disappearing between shelves just as two girls rounded the corner, calling her name.

Damian stayed by her desk, watching her retreat with that unreadable expression, his jaw tight. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides like he was holding himself back from chasing her.

When he finally moved, it wasn’t after her. He sank into her abandoned chair, his fingers brushing the notebook she had left behind. His eyes lingered on the neat handwriting, the way her name was scribbled in the margins.

He whispered it once under his breath. “Aria.”

And then he leaned back in her chair, smirking faintly to himself.

She could run, but she couldn’t hide. Not from him.

Not anymore.