The morning air tasted different here. Crisp, sharper than the soft winds of her village, as though the very sky above this college carried secrets in its lungs.
Isabella pulled her cardigan tighter, her fingers curled nervously around the strap of her bag. The campus stretched before her like something out of a dream—ivy climbing stone walls, tall windows glinting with morning light, students scattering across pathways. Laughter echoed, footsteps overlapped, voices tangled together.
She inhaled deeply, grounding herself. Just another school. Just classes, just books. Nothing strange. Nothing different.
Yet, she couldn't shake it—the feeling that she'd stepped into a place where the world shifted just beneath the surface.
Inside the lecture hall, the noise was louder—desks dragged, chairs scraped, the murmur of conversations rising like waves. Isabella kept her head low, searching for a corner where she could vanish. She found it near the window, light spilling across her desk in golden stripes. Sitting quickly, she placed her notebook before her and tried to disappear into the background.
The door opened.
He walked in.
Isabella didn't know his name. But something inside her did.
The boy was tall, his frame carved like marble, his steps measured with the kind of confidence that wasn't learned but born. His hair, dark and unruly, caught the light in fleeting glimmers. His eyes—storm-gray, restless—swept over the room. For a breathless second, they found hers.
Her pulse leapt.
It was only a moment. A glance. But it was as if the world stilled, the noise drowned out, leaving nothing but the echo of his gaze pressed against her skin.
Then—he looked away. Without pause, he walked past her and settled at the table beside hers, his movements fluid, deliberate, cold.
Her chest tightened. Something about him tugged at her like a memory half-forgotten, a dream just out of reach.
Who is he? Why does it feel like I've known him before?
"Oi, Theo!" The voice shattered the haze. A boy with a mischievous grin dropped into the seat opposite him, throwing an arm across the back of the chair. Oliver. His hair was a tangle of copper curls, his laughter loud enough to turn heads.
Beside him, Leo leaned back in his chair with an easy smirk, his sharp jaw catching the light. Louis, quieter but sharper, raised a brow at Theodore with that knowing look only old friends carried.
"You're late again," Louis teased. "What is it this time? Brooding under the stars? Meditating in a cave? Or just staring at yourself in the mirror?"
Oliver snorted. "Definitely the mirror."
Theodore said nothing. He simply leveled them with a glance—a look so heavy it silenced Oliver mid-laugh.
"Still no sense of humor," Leo muttered under his breath.
The chatter shifted as Amelia and Nina arrived, sliding gracefully into their places. Amelia's golden curls bounced as she laughed, her perfume sweet and cloying, while Nina's eyes missed nothing, sharp as blades.
It didn't take them long to notice Isabella.
"New face," Amelia whispered, her tone playful but laced with curiosity. "A human."
Nina tilted her head, studying her. "Pretty though. Too pretty to go unnoticed."
Their words were soft, yet Theodore heard them. His jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his pen. His wolf stirred violently, whispering the word he dreaded to hear.
Mate.
The sound of it rattled through his bones. His chest burned with the urge to turn, to look, to breathe her in—but he forced it down. He could not, would not, acknowledge it. Not here. Not her.
Across the aisle, Isabella shifted uncomfortably, sensing something though she couldn't name it. Her eyes flicked up—just as Theodore's did. For a second, their gazes almost locked. His lashes lowered in a swift twitch, and he turned away, pretending she was no more than another student in the crowd.
The ache in her chest deepened. She didn't understand it. Only that he made the air feel heavier.
The door swung open again, and three new boys slipped into the circle of Theodore's friends.
Dorian, with his amber eyes and sly smile, seemed to carry mischief in his very step. Cassian, tall and composed, nodded politely to the group before folding his arms. Rowan, restless, drummed his fingers against the desk as though still carrying the rhythm of some wild chase.
Their laughter rose quickly, mingling with Oliver's and Amelia's. Jokes passed, secrets exchanged. The group sparkled with the easy energy of those who belonged—while Isabella sat quietly by the window, a stranger in their world.
But Theodore felt her presence like fire against his skin. Every breath she took, every flick of her pen across paper, pulled at him in ways he refused to admit.
And Isabella, though unaware of why, felt the same pull. Her heart beat to an unfamiliar rhythm, one that whispered of stories she didn't yet know she was a part of.
When the lecture ended, she gathered her things quickly, slipping out before the others could notice. But even as she walked away, she felt the weight of his silence pressing against her back.
And behind her, Theodore sat frozen in his seat, eyes fixed on the empty space she left behind, every part of him fighting against the bond he could no longer deny.