Chapter 14

Zara’s POV

“Easy,” she said gently, tightening her grip when my knees wobbled as I stood. “I’ve got you.”

Her hand behind me was warm and steady and I let her pull me up, brushing dust off my palms awkwardly, my face still burning from the laughter echoing behind us. My bag lay a few feet away, abandoned like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

“I’m fine,” I muttered automatically, though my wrist throbbed when I flexed it.

But she didn’t call me out on the lie, she just nodded like she’d expected it.

“Still,” she said, glancing pointedly at my scraped hand, “that didn’t look fine.”

She bent to grab my bag before I could stop her and handed it back to me carefully, as if it were something fragile. The noise around us began to fade as students drifted off, bored now that the spectacle was over.

“I’m Sofia,” she added, offering a small smile. “And I’m really sorry about… that.”

I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” she said. “But I still hate it.”

That made me pause.

I looked at her properly this time. She wasn’t dressed as if she were trying to impress anyone; she wore simple jeans, white sneakers, and a cardigan tied loosely around her waist. There was an ease to her posture that felt earned, not careless.

“I’m Zara,” I said quietly.

“I know,” she replied without hesitation. Then, seeing my expression, she rushed to add, “I mean everyone knows. You’re kind of… talked about.”

I huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

She winced. “Yeah. I figured.”

She didn’t rush to let go. Her grip loosened only when she was sure I was steady, her eyes scanning me in a way that was clinical rather than curious.

A ball lay abandoned a few feet away. No apology followed it.

“I’m sorry,” she said calmly. “That was unnecessary.”

I exhaled through my nose. “That’s one way to put it.”

The sounds around us, footsteps, low laughter, and passing conversations resumed their normal cadence as people lost interest.

“I’m Sofia,” she said. “International relations.”

“Zara,” I replied. “International relations too.”

“That's great!”

We started walking toward the gate together, neither of us saying anything for a moment. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a pause rather than an absence.

“They’ve been awful,” Sofia said eventually. “Since you arrived.”

I shrugged, though my shoulders ached from the motion. “They get bored easily.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”

She glanced sideways at me. “You’re not from here, right?”

“Obviously,” I said dryly, and then she smiled faintly. “I meant… You don’t look like you’re trying to fit in. Not in the way people usually do.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I’d tried fitting in once. It hadn’t worked out so well.

“I don’t have the energy,” I said finally. Sofia nodded like she understood exactly what I meant.

“My car’s over there,” I added, pointing toward the curb where the driver waited.

She slowed. “Right. Of course.”

There was a hesitation in her step, like she wasn’t sure whether to leave or stay.

“Do you… Want company tomorrow?” she asked carefully. “I mean not like a charity company. Just…normal.”

The word normal landed softly from her lips and I couldn't help but smile at her kind words.

“I’d like that,” I said, surprising myself. Her smile widened, genuine this time. “Good. Because I was going to sit with you anyway.”

I blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “Someone had to.”

I laughed. I actually laughed for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Anytime.”

The driver cleared his throat politely, reminding me of where I was headed and then I turned towards her again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Zara.”

“Tomorrow.”

I watched her walk away, lighter somehow, before turning toward the car seconds later.

******************************

The ride home passed in a blur. I leaned my head against the window, replaying the moment Sofia had reached for me. How she hadn’t hesitated. How she hadn’t looked embarrassed to be seen with me.

The mansion felt colder when I arrived and without a word to anyone around I went straight to my room, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the bed. My wrist still ached, but it was manageable. What lingered more was the exhaustion, the kind that seeped into your bones.

Dinner came and went without me. I didn’t care.

*********************************************

The next morning, I spotted Sofia as soon as I got out of the car.

She waved from across the courtyard like we’d known each other for years, not hours.

“Hey,” she said when I reached her. “How’s the wrist?”

“Still attached,” I replied. “So that’s a win.”

She grinned. “Good. I was worried you’d sue the school.”

“Tempting,” I responded and she laughed. We walked into class together.

The whispers started but quieter this time. Someone nudged someone else. Someone stared a second too long. But no one said anything outright.

Sofia sat beside me without asking.

“They won’t say it to your face if they think you’ve got backup though so you have nothing to worry about,” she murmured.

I arched an eyebrow. “You make it sound strategic.”

“It is,” she said plainly. “Social survival.”

I smirked. “You’re good at this.”

“I’ve had practice.”

Throughout the day, she filled the silences naturally complaining about class projects, mocking tutors affectionately, and pointing out shortcuts around campus. She never asked about family or Matteo. Never pried into why I lived the way I did.

At lunch, she placed her tray beside mine like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you always eat this fast?” she asked.

“I don’t like lingering.”

“Fair.”

Halfway through the meal, someone walked past our table and scoffed quietly.

Sofia didn’t look up instead she yelled. “If you’re going to stare, at least commit to the bit.”

The girl flushed and hurried away. I stared at Sofia. “Did you just—”

“Well, if you're not, someone has to you know?” she adds and for the first time since I got transferred here, I felt relieved. A bit actually, because I still had Matteo to deal with back at home.