Elira's POV :
The sound of bags zipping, footsteps rushing out, and whispers of weekend plans filled the lecture hall. Students laughed, stretched, checked their phones, and slipped out the door one by one. Some in pairs. Some in groups. All living their lives like nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
Elira didn't move. Her hands rested on her notebook, but she hadn't taken a single note. Her pen lay untouched. Her fingers trembled.
Her eyes were fixed on the front of the room, on the man in black who stood quietly near the whiteboard.
Professor Lucien Vale.
Tall. Calm. Controlled.
The words he had spoken still echoed in her chest like thunder rolling through a broken home.
"People don't use knives anymore. They use promises."
That was the line. The one that made her freeze inside.
She had whispered something like that before dying.
Knives are easy to heal from. Love isn't.
She had bled out on a cold floor, betrayed by the man she loved. Zayn had laughed while she faded. His lover had smiled. His mother had watched.
And now here she was, alive again, sitting in a classroom like nothing ever happened. Like she hadn't already died once.
A deep breath shuddered out of her chest. She stood slowly, trying to seem calm. Normal. Like a girl who hadn't clawed her way back from the grave.
Her chair made a soft scraping sound as she pushed it in.
Lucien looked up.
Their eyes met.
He didn't blink.
His eyes were like cold steel behind glass. Unreadable.
Not cruel. Not kind.
Just... still. Too still.
"You're not leaving?" he asked, voice smooth but without warmth.
Elira hesitated. Then nodded once.
"I... I had a question. About the reading."
It was a lie. She didn't even know what the reading was. But she couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until she understood....
Lucien set the marker down and walked slowly around the front desk. His movements were precise, almost too perfect.
"What's your name?" he asked, though she felt like he already knew.
"Elira. Elira Monroe."
He nodded once.
"You used to sit in the back. With Mr. Malik."
Her stomach twisted. Zayn's name made her skin crawl.
"Not anymore," she said flatly.
Lucien's head tilted, just a little. "Good."
She blinked. "Good?"
He gave the faintest shrug. "Distractions make smart girls foolish."
Elira swallowed.
There was something about the way he said that. Not mean. Not judging. Just stating it. Like it was fact.
But why did it feel like he knew everything?
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then tried again.
"The thing you said earlier. About... promises. Why did you say that?"
He turned, slowly, meeting her gaze again.
"Because they hurt more than weapons."
His eyes locked on hers.
"Pain fades. But betrayal? That stays. Especially when it comes from someone who said they'd protect you."
Her breath caught.
He stepped closer, just a little. Enough to make her heartbeat pick up, but not from fear.
From confusion.
From recognition she didn't understand.
"Most people never see it coming," he continued. "Because they're too busy hoping it won't be true."
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't move again.
But somehow, every word felt like a mirror.
Elira couldn't breathe.
She had hoped. She had trusted. And it had killed her.
Lucien turned away, as if the moment hadn't just cracked something inside her.
"You'll be fine in this class," he said. "Just don't make the same mistake twice."
Elira watched him for another long second, then nodded silently.
She left the classroom with her heart thudding.
Outside, the sky had turned pale grey. A breeze tugged at her clothes, she stepped down the stone steps outside the building.
She needed air.
She walked fast, almost ran, to the edge of campus. Past the trees. Past the rusty cars . Past the bench where she used to sit with Zayn and dream of a future.
That girl is died.
She sat on the ground behind the admin building, her back to the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.
Everything felt unreal.
Lucien's words. His eyes. His voice.
It was like he saw her through a window no one else knew existed.
Was she imagining it?
She pressed her forehead to her knees. Her chest burned.
No. She wasn't crazy.
Something about him wasn't right.
But not in the way Zayn was wrong.
Zayn was fake smiles and soft lies.
Lucien was... silence that watched. Stillness that planned.
She didn't trust him. She didn't trust anyone.
But something in her gut whispered: He isn't here to save you.
Maybe no one was.
And that was okay.
She didn't need saving anymore.
She just need revenge.
And power.
The sky had darkened more. The wind carried the scent of old books, dry leaves, and rain that hadn't fallen yet. Elira stayed curled in her spot, her back pressed to the cool wall.
Her fingers tugged at a thread on her sleeve. Her hands were cold. Her chest felt tight. The world was moving around her, but she sat still.
She used to wait here for Zayn. Always waiting. Even when he didn't come. Even when he forgot.
She gave him so much. And he gave her pain.
She was tired of remembering.
Tired of hurting.
From betrayal.
Her body had healed. But her heart hadn't.
She thought of Zayn's smile. His voice. His promises.
Then she thought of his hand wrapped around another woman's. His cold eyes as she lay dying.
They thought she would break.
They thought she would vanish.
But she came back.
And this time, she wouldn't beg. She wouldn't cry.
She would watch. She would wait. And when the time was right, she would burn everything they loved to the ground.
Quietly. Carefully.
Because pain wasn't always loud.
Sometimes it's silent.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold wind. It didn't calm her. It reminded her she was still alive. That she had another chance.
"I won't be fooled again," she whispered.
Not by sweet words. Not by warm hands. Not by anyone pretending to care.
She had no space left in her heart for love. Not anymore.
She wasn't here to find love. She was here to end what they started.
To destroy what destroyed her.