Chapter seven

I notice her the second I walk in.

she's huddled in a quiet corner away from prying eyes with her phone in hand and her favourite journal tucked away under her arm. She is still as beautiful and as shy as always fuck and her body has gotten way more curvy and sexy ..... what the fuck is wrong with me was I really just getting hard thinking about Maria's body for fucks sake she is your brother's girlfriend unfortunately.

I try to keep my gaze away, try to school my expression but then I see her she's trying to take a picture........ of Draven. I don't know why but that makes me want to smash that fucking phone.

As Draven and I walk down the stairs I witness her getting bullied, how they snatch her diary and read it to Draven, how he laughs along and denies everything, how her face falls with shame and embarrassment. l watch how he moves closer to her when no one is looking and whispers nothing but lies to her thanks to my alpha super hearing, I watch how her face lights up with hope, I watch how when he leaves they continue bullying her, I watch as they strip her and douse her with filth. I wait for that scum called my brother to do something about it but he doesn't he just looks at her and looks away and ......I HATE IT, I FUCKING HATE IT, I can't stand this bullshit anymore I'm ready to fucking kill someone. I walk up to them.

"what the fuck do you think your doing" I ask. Maria looks down and apologises.in that sweet sexy and vulnerable voice of hers and my heart aches . Fuck it wasn't her I meant, I wasn't talking to her, I would never yell at her.

That bitch Tiffany walks up to me and starts running her mouth while looking at me with this weird look ...is she constipated, is that her form of seduction well it's failing and disgusting everything about this bitch is fake from her hair colour and length to her body nothing was natural not to talk of the nasty heart she possesses, for a female she was fucking evil.

I shook of her hands in disgust and shove her but her stupid phone falls, I don't know why but I pick it up.......and I wish I didn't.

"really Tiffany so whose the creep and dreamer now huh?".

I ask as he shows the people around Tiffany her phone.

it's her home screen it was a picture of a shirtless me taking a swim in the lake, my body in full display but there was something wrong with the picture and that was the angle the picture was taken unawares at a very far distance, I'm talking creepy vibes

The picture creeps some people out while others just laugh at her, Tiffany gets angry and storms off.

But some twisted part of me is somehow happy that Maria got to see a picture of my body even if it was more than a year ago and my body has gotten more......developed. It doesn't stop me from seeing the way she swallows and her cheeks turn red. fuck she's hot... is she turned on.

I walk over to her and wrap my blazer around her "hey Maria,.... you okay, let me walk you back."

Please say yes..... wait why do I want her to say yes. Instead she shooks her head and runs off like I'm about to eat her well I would if she let me but not now.

I decide to spend the day in her class even though I'm a final year and her class is my junior, just for her to have some peace and boy Draven doesn't look happy about it but I don't think I give a fuck.

As I walk in I notice her.

She’s in the same seat—two rows ahead, near the window. Shoulders curled inward, notebook open, pencil moving slowly like every word takes effort. People around her are already whispering. One of them nudges her chair with their foot. She stiffens but doesn’t look back.

And she's wearing my blazer,....fuck yes.

They keep bugging her but

She’s ignoring them.

That’s new.

Before we left, she used to flinch at everything. Now she just… takes it quietly, like she’s built a wall out of silence.

My gaze lingers longer than it should.

I’ve always noticed her. Even before anyone else really paid attention. The way she stayed at the edges of everything. The way she tried to make herself smaller whenever someone looked her way. It used to bother me more than I understood.

I like her.

I never said it out loud. Never even let it show. But I do, I really do.

Then my brother started hovering around her. Quiet conversations. Small smiles when no one else looked. And after that… I stepped back. He’s my brother. If he chose her, that was it. End of it.

Still, seeing her now—with him barely acknowledging her, with everyone else pushing her around—makes something in my chest tighten.

Someone behind her leans forward. “What’re you writing?”

She pulls the notebook closer. “Nothing.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

Her voice is soft, but it’s still a refusal. A few students snicker.

My brother doesn’t move. He’s watching, expression neutral, like this doesn’t involve him.

I push my chair back before I fully think it through. The sound cuts across the room.

“Leave it,” I say calmly.

They glance at me, hesitation flickering across their faces.

“It’s just a notebook,” one of them mutters.

“So leave it,” I repeat.

They back off, rolling their eyes, but they stop. The tension eases.

She’s still clutching the notebook. Her fingers are trembling. After a moment, she sets it down again and keeps writing.

She doesn’t thank me. She doesn’t turn around.

She never does.

I lean back in my seat, pretending to focus on the board. My brother glances sideways at me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but I can feel his attention linger for a second before he looks away.

Across the room, the whispers start again, quieter this time. She keeps ignoring them.

I watch her for a moment longer.

Part of me wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten to her first. If I had spoken to her more. If I hadn’t assumed it would sort itself out.

It doesn’t matter now.

She’s with him. Even if it’s strange. Even if he barely acknowledges her in front of others. That’s still enough.

And there’s another reason I keep my distance.

I’m waiting.

Everyone talks about it—true mates. The bond you can’t fake, can’t ignore. I’ve always told myself that when I find mine, everything will make sense. That whatever I feel now… is temporary. Something that will fade.

So I wait.

But when someone flicks her shoulder again and she stiffens, my jaw tightens anyway.

She keeps writing.

Like she’s trying to disappear into the page.

The bell rings, and everyone starts packing up. She moves carefully, gathering her things like she’s afraid of dropping something.

As she stands, she glances back—just for a second.

Her eyes meet mine.

There’s surprise there. And something soft. Something that makes my chest feel heavier than it should.

Then she looks away quickly and walks out, head down.

But she somehow discretely drops a note on my desk I open it 'thanks for the blazer, I'll wash it and return it.'

I look at her and she looks away and starts walking out of the classroom

As I watch her leave, I tell myself the same thing I always do.

She’s not mine.

And one day, I’ll meet the one who is.

But the thought doesn’t make it easier to look away.

She almost makes it out without anyone stopping her.

Almost.

Someone sticks their foot out just enough to catch her step. She stumbles forward, catching herself on the edge of a desk. A few laughs break out, low and satisfied.

She doesn’t say anything. She just steadies herself and keeps walking, like it didn’t happen.

My hands tighten slightly around my pen.

She shouldn’t have to pretend like that. If she takes action even the smallest one like glaring at them I'll back her up, I'll take it off from there all she has to do is do something. But she doesn't.

My brother watches too, but he doesn’t move. His expression is calm, detached. Like this is background noise.

I don’t understand him.

If he’s really with her, why doesn’t he do anything? Why let them treat her like she doesn’t matter? why let her suffer this humiliation?

She reaches the door, pushing it open carefully. For a second, the light from the hallway falls across her face. She looks tired. Not just physically—like she’s carrying something heavy no one else can see.

Then she disappears.

I exhale slowly, leaning back in my chair.

“You’re staring,” my brother mutters.

“I’m not.”

He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go.

I tell myself again that it doesn’t matter. That she chose him. That I’m waiting for my true mate, someone meant specifically for me.

But the image of her stumbling—then pretending she didn’t—sticks in my mind longer than it should.