The Top Boy Is My Mate

Zara’s POV

I ran after Jace, clutching the small velvet box in my hand. Alex had told me it was his nineteenth birthday today, and I’d spent hours saving up for the silver cuff bracelet he’d once said he liked. Today was also our one-year anniversary. I was nervous but excited – thinking of the way his eyes would light up when he saw it, the way he might kiss me and call me his girl in front of everyone.

But what I saw instead made me stop dead in my tracks.

Jace had his hands wrapped tightly around Alex’s waist, dragging her flush against his chest as his lips crashed onto hers. They were hidden beneath the shadow of the tree behind his house, but I saw everything. The way his fingers tangled her hair, how her hands slid up his neck as though she’d done it a thousand times.

My legs buckled. A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest, so intense I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth to stop myself from sobbing out loud. Tears blurred my vision, hot and angry and broken all at once. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear them apart, to make him look at me, make her see what she’d done.

Alex. My best friend since I was seven. The girl who knew all my secrets, my dreams, and my fears. And Jace… my boyfriend. My future mate.

I didn’t mean to follow him. I wasn’t spying or doubting him. I just wanted to surprise him, to make him smile, to make this day special. But now I stood frozen, watching everything I thought I knew shatter and fall apart.

I watched the love life I had built with so much love crush in seconds, with the boy I loved, kissing the girl I thought would always stand by me.

I get it. There was no mate bond between us, no magical pull that told me he was mine, but still, we had spent so much time together since childhood and my instinct screamed he’s the one. I hadn’t felt our bond yet. Maybe because I was only seventeen, too young still, maybe, for the bond to awaken. But my heart didn’t care about that. It had chosen him anyway. And he broke it without a second thought.

That was two weeks ago. But it feels like a lifetime.

…

My house is quiet now, too quiet. The kind of silence that presses on your ears until you can’t breathe. The walls feel like they’re closing in sometimes, like they’re keeping the memories trapped inside so they can haunt me over and over again.

After my mom died, the silence became my only companion. I stopped going to school, first for a few days, then weeks, then months. Grief swallowed me whole. One year slipped into the next, and no one pushed me to return. Not my stepdad, who barely remembered I existed. Not the teachers, who probably gave up.

I didn’t care. Without my mom, nothing seemed worth it anymore.

Now it’s just me and Aunt May in this big, empty house that feels more like a museum of the life I lost. She tries. She always tries. But I see the worry in her eyes, the way she watches me when she thinks I’m not looking. I hear it in the way she hesitates before knocking on my door, as if afraid I might shatter into pieces at the slightest touch.

Jace’s betrayal was the final blow.

Sometimes, late at night, I stare at the ceiling and wonder how I became this version of myself. A girl who barely recognizes her own reflection. A girl who lets the days pass by so fast, because the pain is easier to manage that way. I used to dream about the future. About love, adventure, and freedom. Now I dream of nothing at all.

So when the letter came, it felt like the universe was handing me a lifeline.

….

I’m standing at my window when Aunt May calls me downstairs. The rain blurs the view outside, the gray sky matching the weight in my chest. Fat droplets streak down the glass like tears, and I press my palm to the cold surface, as if I can absorb some of that chill and numb myself.

“There’s something for you,” she says, holding out a thick envelope. It looks expensive, cream-colored paper, sealed with dark red wax.

I take it, feeling the strange weight of it in my hands. My name is written in perfect script: Zara Blackwood.

My fingers tremble slightly as I break the seal and unfold the letter.

Miss Blackwood,

We are pleased to offer you a place at Blackwood Academy, a private boarding school for gifted students. Our campus, deep within the Ember Forest, provides a unique opportunity for young people like yourself to grow, learn, and thrive.

Your term begins immediately.

I read it twice, my heart racing. My pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that for a moment, I can’t even hear the rain anymore. Blackwood Academy. I’ve heard of it, of course, who hasn’t? A school covered in mystery, hidden deep in the woods, meant for those who don’t quite fit anywhere else. A place for the powerful, the strange, and the broken. Aunty May must’ve applied not really expecting me to accept to go.

“Zara?” Aunt May’s voice is soft, uncertain.

“I want to go,” I whisper. And I mean it. Every word.

She blinks. “Are you sure? I don’t want to force you.”

“I need this, Aunt May.” My voice is steadier now, the decision already made. “Please.”

And she understands. She sees the girl who hasn’t set foot in a school for over a year, who’s been drowning in grief and betrayal. She sees how much I need to leave this place.

My stepdad doesn’t even glance up from his laptop when she tells him. “If that’s what she wants, fine. I’ll sign whatever.”

That’s all I get. Not that I expected anything else.

…

That night, I packed.

It doesn’t take long. A few clothes. My sketchbook. A single photo of my mom, the one where she’s laughing, her eyes bright and full of life. I run my thumb over the image, wishing I could step into that moment and stay there forever.

I leave the rest behind.

Jace who lied. Alex who betrayed me.

The girl who thought love would save her.

The house feels colder somehow as I zip up my bag. I glance around my room, at the posters on the walls, the books I once loved, the bed where I spent too many nights crying myself to sleep. It’s strange, the way a place can hold pieces of you long after you’re ready to let them go.

….

The next morning, a black car waits at the curb. The driver doesn’t speak as I slide into the back seat. Aunt May hugs me tightly, brushing the hair from my face like she used to when I was small.

“Call me. Every chance you get. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

I hold onto her for a moment longer, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume, warm and comforting. Then I let go, because I have to.

The car pulls away, the city passing behind us as we head into the woods. I don’t look back. I don’t need to.

Whatever waits for me at Blackwood Academy, it can’t be worse than what I’m leaving behind.

And maybe, just maybe, it will be the start of something new.