Все главы Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths: Глава 31 - Глава 40

Mr. Wright's POV I see her.Every damn day.And that’s the part that’s killing me.Because I don’t just see her—I feel her. In the weight of the air. In the way the world tilts ever so slightly when she walks into the room like gravity has no choice but to bend toward her. My every cell recognizes her before my eyes even do. And still—I pretend not to. I let my gaze skim past her like she’s just another indistinct figure in a uniform, just another student with a pen and a schedule.As if I haven’t memorized the exact shade her eyes turn when she’s pissed off and biting her tongue.A

Yes, I was sad.Beyond reason. Beyond logic. Beyond words.It wasn’t just silence—it felt like betrayal.Because you don’t look at someone the way he looked at me and then just stop.You don’t peel a girl open, piece by piece, hold her pain like it matters—and then drop her like a passing thought.But okay.Fine.I’ve survived worse.I am, after all, the girl whose own blood couldn’t be bothered to care. The girl with a family in name only—relatives who sent cold texts on holidays, who left funeral flowers but never stayed for the grief.So why would I expect more from a stranger?I shouldn’t have. I didn’t.But I did.God help me, I did.And now?Now I don’t.I returned to the version of me I buried the moment he stepped into my life. The version who didn’t expect kindness, who never asked for softn

I don’t want to see him.I really don’t.But God… I do.And that contradiction is chewing at my insides like acid.Nick.He’s not just a name to me. He’s not some random ghost from my past.He is my past.My anchor. My compass. My person.The only human on earth I can say—without flinching—will never, ever betray me.Because we grew up together. We practically learned to speak each other’s names before we could form full sentences. We didn’t become friends—we just were. From the sandbox to high school, from scraped knees to exam hall meltdowns, from whispered secrets in the middle of the night to long aimless walks because neither of us wanted to go home yet.You don’t replace that.Yes, Mia’s sweet. She cares. She really does. But she came into my life when I was already broken. An

I knew it the moment our eyes locked again—we had too many questions buried between us, all sharpened by time and silence, clawing to surface. But this? This wasn’t a conversation meant to be squeezed between poetry metaphors and Mr. Wright’s dry sarcasm. This wasn’t something that could happen under fluorescent lights and a ticking classroom clock.So, I did what any emotionally fried, half-rehabilitated, still-grieving girl would do.I ditched class.I grabbed Nick’s hand like it was the anchor I’d been searching for in the middle of my storm and yanked him down the hallway, past the chaos, the bells, the whispers behind hands and turning heads.We slipped out the back stairwell like fugitives, adrenaline pumping, the rush of rebellion fizzing through my veins like soda bubbles.It wasn’t just about avoiding Mr. Wright’s class.It was about breathing.It was about space.It was

Class began like any other Monday morning—slow, painful, and entirely unnecessary.Except… something was off.From the moment Mr. Wright walked in, I felt it. That... thing. The heat. The pressure. Like someone turned the classroom thermostat to judgmental inferno and then dared me to stay still under it.I wasn’t even looking at him.Okay, maybe I glanced. Once. Twice. Fine—three times. But it wasn’t intentional. It was more like a reflex. Like when you check to see if someone who ruined your life is still breathing.And he was. Oh boy, he was.Standing there in his signature crisp shirt with his sleeves rolled just above the elbow—because of course he had to show off those brooding forearms like they were part of the curriculum. His hair looked like he’d lost a fight with sleep and won anyway. And his face… well. Still sinfully unreadable. Sharp jaw. Quiet fury. Those glacier-blue eyes that