Semua Bab Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths: Bab 51 - Bab 60

“Give the phone to Chris,” Ethan said.I swallowed.I handed the phone to him.I didn’t know what they talked about.Correction—I had no damn clue what they talked about.Mr. Wright and Ethan.For five minutes straight, I sat there, hands in my lap, eyes flitting between the walls of my tiny dorm room like I was trying to find the escape button in real life. I couldn’t hear much. Just low tones. Stiff words. The occasional rise in pitch—like a silent argument through clenched jaws.Then—“You bastard. You always do this.”The words snapped like a whip through the air.I blinked. What?Did he—did Cristiano Wright just… curse?My eyes jerked up from the floor and landed on him.He was staring at the screen of his phone like it had personally betrayed him, his jaw tight, fingers clenching a little too hard around the device. When our eyes met, a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe embarrassment—flashed across his face.And then… the smile.That cursed, polite, painfully fake teacher

Too bad I didn’t know Nick Morgan had a matching flair for catastrophic overreactions.Because the moment I exited Ethan’s chat, my phone straight up glitched like it was about to self-destruct from emotional damage.564 unread messages.Emails. Plural. Like actual Gmail notifications—as if he was submitting a formal missing person report to the United Nations.My thumb hovered over the chat like it might bite me.Was he writing a novel? Filing a lawsuit? Planning a funeral?I hadn’t even opened the damn thread yet, and I could already feel the emotional rollercoaster vibrating through the pixels. Guilt. Rage. Worry. Panic. Regret. Probably a few insults sandwiched between apologies.NICK 🦊[Yesterday, 3:40 PM]Okay… what the fuck, Alina?Why aren’t you picking up? Are you okay??[Yesterday, 4:48 PM]I called. You didn’t answer.So I’m messaging now like a damn lunatic. Because I am a lunatic.Because I’m losing my mind here.[Yesterday, 6:02 PM]Look, if this is about that STUPID fu

“ALINA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”The sound didn’t just echo—it ripped through the air like a grenade in a chapel.I froze.Every cell in my body screamed: RUN.I turned toward the voice and, yep, just as I feared—there he was.Ethan.My older brother. My protector. My freaking executioner. Face contorted in pure betrayal. Hands curled into fists. Rage boiling off him like radioactive steam.But that wasn’t the worst part.No.Because right beside him—arms awkwardly at his sides, expression horrifically neutral, eyes darting like a deer caught in a very inappropriate headlights—stood...Mr. Cristiano Wright.My professor.In his dark slacks and half-buttoned shirt. His perfectly composed face trying to calculate whether he’d walked into an emotional intervention or a domestic warfare documentary.I could see it in his eyes. That exact moment when his soul quietly whispered:“I am a dignified professor. I teach literature. I grade essays. Why the actual f**k am I here?”Then Ethan

Back at the dorm, I packed in record time—just the basics. Toothbrush, pajamas, charger, moisturizer, emotional baggage.Mr. Wright and Ethan? Oh, they were busy charming the warden like seasoned politicians on a campaign trail.Apparently, “She’s my little sister” and “I’m her professor” carried more weight than I’m an adult woman and I can take care of myself, because ten minutes later, I was standing outside the dorm gates, bag in hand, officially kidnapped.I dumped my bag into the trunk like it owed me money. The dorm warden had fought tooth and nail—“She can’t leave campus without a guardian signature!”—but apparently the word of a professor carried enough weight to bulldoze the red tape.Mr. Wright handled it. Cold. Calm. Devastatingly effective.Ethan just stood there yawning like a lazy royal on a rescue mission.They took the front seats, of course. My brother tossed himself into shotgun like he owned the world. Mr. Wright slid behind the wheel, and somehow that still felt w

So apparently, I was invisible now.Ethan and Mr. Wright—sorry, Cristiano “Secret Billionaire” Wright—had slipped into their little bromantic universe. Chatting. Laughing. Sipping their beers like they were at some rooftop bar in Tokyo instead of lounging in a whole-ass mansion while I sat there like an unpaid extra in their love story.If they were going to enjoy their boys’ love romcom moments in front of me, what was the point of dragging me here? Could’ve just dumped me at the dorm gates and gone on a honeymoon or something.Sighing, I pulled out my phone, popped in one earbud, and let the reels flood my brain with serotonin. Fashion hacks. Street food ASMR. A cat barking like a dog. Classic internet chaos. The holy trinity.It was soothing.Until I realized… I was staring at him.Mr. Wright.Not Professor Wright—the cold, intimidating man with those deadly critiques and that terrifyingly calm voice in class.Nope.Now?His sleeves were rolled up, blazer discarded, and his tie sl