Semua Bab The Lovely Loner: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Rex stared at Ann, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. For a moment, he seemed thrown—not because she confronted him, but because she did it so boldly, without hesitation, without a flicker of fear. Few people, if any, ever spoke to him like that. And certainly not in public. Not with such fire in their eyes. But then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk, arrogant and assured, as though her little outburst amused him more than it stung. He raised a brow with maddening ease, his gaze sliding over her like silk. “Do you want the glares to stop?” he asked, his voice calm, too calm, as though he held all the answers and knew it. “Do you want to get back to your old life, as if none of this ever happened? I can make all of that happen. I can make this… vanish with the wind.” Ann blinked, stunned by the offer—not the words exactly, but the certainty with which he delivered them. Like it was easy. Like it was nothing. But of course, to someone like Rex Radford, it probabl

Every Monday afternoon had become a ritual Ann both anticipated and dreaded. The week’s most charged moment awaited her in the quiet seclusion of the institutional woods—Rex’s tutoring appointment. This Monday was no different in priority, but her nerves buzzed louder than usual. She dressed with unintended care—blue skinny jeans that hugged her form, a crisp white crop top that balanced innocence and quiet confidence, and well‑worn white sneakers hinting at practicality more than fashion. Her plain backpack—buttoned and patched—sat comfortably on her shoulders. She opted for bare skin: just her usual serum, a dab of sunscreen, a whisper of lip gloss. No bold makeup, no statement—yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of poised anticipation as she made her way across campus. Rex, on the other hand, was restless. His patience—never expansive—was stretched thin today. He’d arrived early, setting out neatly arranged textbooks and notes against the smooth slate of the bench nestled beneath a

It was a mystery—one that Ann couldn’t piece together, no matter how many times she replayed it in her mind. How exactly had she gotten home that fateful day after the kiss? The memory was scattered, fragmented into blurs of panic, racing footsteps, and the unrelenting thud of her heart against her ribs. One moment she had been in his presence, drowning in the weight of what had just happened, and the next she was fumbling with her keys at the door of her apartment, breathing in ragged bursts as if she’d been chased. She didn’t remember the streets she took, or whether she had encountered anyone on the way. All she knew was that her legs had carried her on autopilot, driven by a storm of emotion so intense that she might as well have been a ghost gliding through the city. By the time her key turned in the lock and the door creaked open, her legs gave out beneath her, and she slid to the floor inside. And that was when the dam broke. She didn’t even try to hold it in. The tears spill

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered promises, of eyes that lingered too long in passing and hands that brushed by accident only to retreat just as quickly. Ann and Rex became experts at pretending. On campus, they passed each other like acquaintances—barely a glance exchanged. But the minute school ended, they would take separate paths, only to reunite hours later at the hidden cabin nestled deep within the woods. There, away from curious eyes and the echo of judgment, their love bloomed. The cabin became their sanctuary. Its wooden walls absorbed every confession, every laugh, every hesitant kiss that turned into something deeper. They made memories there—sweet, sacred ones. Afternoons melted into evenings, evenings into nights. He never once broke her rules. And slowly, something inside Ann began to shift. She had always been cautious, guarded. But each time Rex touched her—with reverence, with patience, with tenderness—he chipped away at her d

Friday came without fanfare. For Ann, it was just another day to survive. She moved like a ghost through school corridors, her body present but her spirit miles away. Whenever Rex appeared, surrounded by laughter and admiration, she instinctively took the opposite path. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look. She made him invisible. And it was working. Ignoring him like a stranger was the only shred of control she had left, and she held onto it like a life raft. But to Rex, that silence screamed louder than any words. He noticed. Every time she walked away, every time her eyes looked through him, something shifted inside him. Something bitter and restless. That evening, she found herself slouched on her couch, the flickering glow of cartoons playing mindlessly on the screen. She wasn’t really watching. Her mind kept drifting—to memories she wished she could burn, to a boy she wished she had never trusted. Work had given her the night off. Manager Lee, in his usual dramatic flair, had wa