The Glass Walls

Maya POV

“Chloe, wait!”

I pushed through the library doors hard enough for them to slam against the wall, the sound chasing after her down the corridor. She didn’t slow, didn’t turn, just kept walking like stopping would break something she was barely holding together.

“Please,” I said, catching up, my breath uneven from the sprint. “Just one second.”

She stopped this time.

Not because of me. Because she chose to.

When she turned, her eyes were red but steady, like she’d already cried and decided she wouldn’t do it again in front of me.

“I can’t do this right now, Maya,” she said quietly. No yelling, no accusation, just a wall sliding into place. “I need time. To think. To understand… whatever this is.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“That’s the problem,” she replied, a tired kind of smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t even know what it looks like anymore.”

I stepped closer, but she didn’t move this time, didn’t step back either, just stood there like she was bracing herself.

“You’re still my best friend,” she added, softer now. “That doesn’t just disappear. But right now, I don’t trust what I’m seeing. So I need space before I say something I can’t take back.”

The words landed heavier than anger would have.

“I’ll wait,” I said.

She nodded once, like that was the only answer she could accept, then turned and walked away, her steps slower this time but no less final.

I watched her go until she disappeared into the crowd outside, swallowed by the same campus that suddenly felt too small for both of us.

“Touching.”

The voice came from behind me, low and dry.

I didn’t need to turn to know it was Leo.

“Stay out of it,” I said, already walking past him toward the athletic wing.

“Cassandra’s looking for us,” he replied, falling into step beside me. “We’re late.”

“Of course we are.”

We walked in silence for a few seconds, the kind that presses in from all sides. Students still stared as we passed, whispers trailing behind us like smoke.

“You handled that better than I expected,” he said finally.

I shot him a look. “You mean I didn’t ruin your precious storyline?”

“I mean you didn’t say anything that blows this up.”

“That’s all you care about.”

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

We turned the corner and nearly collided with Jax and Noah leaning against the lockers like they’d been waiting.

Jax straightened first, pushing off the metal with a sharp exhale. His usual easy grin was gone, replaced with something tighter, more calculated.

“There they are,” he said, eyes flicking between us. “Campus royalty.”

“Move,” Leo said, already trying to walk past.

Jax stepped into his path.

“Not yet.”

Noah stayed where he was, quieter, watching everything like he was piecing together a puzzle no one else could see.

“This thing going around,” Jax continued, gesturing vaguely, “you and her. Since when?”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “Since it stopped being your business.”

“Everything you do on that ice is my business,” Jax shot back, his voice rising just enough to draw attention from a few passing students. “You’re the captain. When you spiral, we all go down with you.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“Really?” Jax let out a short laugh. “Because from where I’m standing, you punched a guy on live broadcast and now you’re playing house with a film student who’s been gunning for you since freshman year.”

I crossed my arms. “Nice to see you’ve been keeping track.”

He glanced at me, quick and assessing. “Hard not to. You’ve been everywhere for the last twelve hours.”

Noah finally spoke, his tone calm but heavier than Jax’s. “People are saying she’s the reason you’ve been off your game.”

Leo’s eyes snapped to him. “You believe that?”

“I believe something’s off,” Noah said. “And you’re not talking about it.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, the kind that said more than any argument could.

Leo stepped forward, close enough that Jax had to either move or make it physical.

“Get out of my way.”

For a second, it looked like Jax wouldn’t.

Then he did.

Barely.

“Just remember,” Jax muttered as we passed, “captains don’t get to hide behind distractions.”

We didn’t stop walking.

Not until the heavy doors of the Thorne Estate closed behind us, sealing the outside world off like it had never existed.

The quiet hit differently here. Too clean. Too controlled.

I dropped my bag by the foyer table and turned on Leo before the silence could settle.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked tired.

“Not now, Maya.”

“No, right now,” I snapped, stepping closer. “You stand there and talk about ‘narratives’ like people are props. Like Chloe walking away doesn’t matter. Like Jax questioning you doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over everything you do.”

His expression hardened, the familiar mask sliding back into place. “I’m trying to keep this from collapsing.”

“At what cost?”

“At the cost it takes,” he shot back, sharper now.

I laughed, but there was nothing funny in it. “That’s easy for you to say. You still have everything. Your team, your name, your future.”

“You think this is having everything?” His voice cracked just slightly, enough to break through the control. “You think I asked for any of this?”

“I think you’ve never had to fight for anything that wasn’t handed to you,” I said, the words coming faster now, sharper. “Your dad runs the school. You walk around like rules don’t apply to you. Like people don’t matter unless they fit into whatever image you’re trying to protect.”

Something in his eyes shifted.

Dangerous. Raw.

“Careful,” he said quietly.

“No,” I pushed, because I couldn’t stop now. “You don’t get to act like the victim here. You made your choices. You threw that punch. You built this reputation. And now everyone else has to clean it up for you.”

His hand slammed against the wall beside my head before I even registered he’d moved.

The sound echoed through the foyer, sharp and final.

I froze.

Not because I thought he’d hurt me.

Because of his face.

Gone was the Ice King, the control, the arrogance.

What was left looked… wrecked.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low, shaking with something deeper than anger. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend you understand anything about my life.”

I didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

“You see headlines,” he continued, closer now, his words rough. “You see the version of me people clap for or tear apart. But you don’t see what it takes to hold that together. You don’t see what happens when it cracks.”

His breath hitched, just once, like he caught himself too late.

“And you definitely don’t get to tell me I haven’t lost anything.”

The space between us felt too small.

Too charged.

For a second, it looked like he might say more.

He didn’t.

He pushed away instead, running a hand through his hair, the control snapping back into place piece by piece.

“Just… stay out of things you don’t understand,” he muttered.

Then he turned and walked toward the stairs.

Halfway up, he stopped.

Not turning around.

“Cameras at seven,” he added, voice flat again. “Try to look like you still want to be here.”

A door slammed upstairs a second later.

And just like that, I was alone.

The house swallowed the silence again, like nothing had happened.

I stood there longer than I should have, staring at the spot where he’d been, my pulse still uneven.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out slowly, already knowing it wouldn’t be anything normal.

Unknown Number: Glass walls everywhere, Maya. Careful what you show… and what you hide.