After almost two weeks, I can finally sit down without wincing, which feels like a borderline miracle.
Technically, I'm still five weeks from being "fully recovered," according to the doctor, but staying home any longer was driving me insane.
So here I am, back at school, pretending I don't still ache in every possible place.
The second I walk into the hallway, my luck betrays me.
Giselle and Mallory are with Peter, strutting down the hall like they own the school.
They see me instantly. I feel the usual spike of dread, like trouble just tracks me by scent.
But something's… off today.
Peter looks annoyed and calls after Mallory but she flat-out ignores him.
Weird.
Maybe he finally got tired of their obsession with making my life hell.
I clench my fists, preparing myself.
I'm not letting anyone corner me again. Not after what happened.
They start toward me.
Then they stop. Hard. Their faces twist in shock.
Confused, I turn to see what they're looking at—when a hand closes around mine.
Firm. Warm. Unyielding.
I freeze.
Jae stands beside me, fingers wrapped around mine like he has every right to hold me.
His posture is relaxed but lethal, chest lifted, shoulders squared, gaze locked on Giselle and Mallory.
He looks… territorial.
He doesn't say a word, but the message radiates off him:
Touch her and die.
My breath catches. I try to pull my hand back, but his grip tightens, not painfully, just enough to tell me that I'm not getting away unless he decides so.
When I meet his eyes, the hallway fades.
"What the hell?" Giselle spits, but even she sounds unsure.
People stare. Whispers erupt. Jae doesn't care.
He tilts his chin, gives one cold, dismissive look to the trio, then starts walking—still holding my hand, tugging me along like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I should protest. I should pull away.
Instead, I follow him until we round a corner, far from the crowd. Only then does he let go.
"What the hell was that?" I hiss. "Are you crazy?"
"I actually am," he says, dead serious, like it's something he's proudly accepted.
I'm thrown off-balance. He steps closer, eyes scanning my face with an intensity that burns.
"You feeling any better?" he asks. No sarcasm. Just raw concern under his gravelly tone.
I shake my head. I'm not giving him that piece of me.
"I didn't ask for your help," I snap. "Do you know what people are going to think after… that? After you held my hand?"
He doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink.
Instead he asks, "Why did you lie?"
My spine stiffens. "What?"
"You lied to me," he says, voice low and controlled. "I asked what those girls wanted from you. You said you didn't know."
"I—"
"But you know," he cuts in.
"I don't owe you an explanation," I snap. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped showing up everywhere and doing, whatever it is you think you're doing."
When I glance around to make sure nobody's watching, I catch him narrowing his eyes at me.
"Stop looking at me like that," I say. "You're… unnerving."
"Why are you so afraid of Giselle and her friends?" he asks.
"I'm not afraid."
"You are," he counters, stepping closer. "You're terrified."
I want to tell him to f*** off, but the words stick.
"Stay away from me." I say instead and turn away.
His voice stops me cold.
"I heard your conversation at the infirmary. With your friend."
I freeze.
He's behind me, close enough that I feel the heat of him before I turn.
"You don't have to worry," he says. "Those girls? Not gonna touch you again."
The conviction in his voice sends a chill up my spine.
"And… I'm glad you're back Laura," he adds, almost casually.
Then he walks past me like he didn't just throw a grenade straight into my life.
***
"Jae knows everything."
"Everything what?" James asks.
"The girls. And he held my hand. Giselle saw. Everyone saw."
James throws his hands up. "How does this much drama find you before noon? I swear, this school is killing you."
"He said they'll never touch me again." The words still shake me.
James raises his brows. "Translation: he went after them."
"No. He wouldn't."
"Oh, please. He absolutely would."
James crosses his arms. "The guy is a creep. And why were you two holding hands?"
"He held my hand! Out of nowhere! I don't know what game he's playing."
"He likes you. The crazy bastard likes you."
"James, not this again. I'm going to class."
"Laura, this is so messed up—"
"I know, okay? I know I should've told the truth. I just… want to avoid him from now on okay?"
***
After class, as I'm packing up, Mr. Kendrick calls my name. I brace myself for a lecture on "focus" or "participation."
Instead, he looks concerned. "Laura, are you feeling all right?"
"Yeah… I'm fine."
"Principal Reed wants to see you."
A knot forms in my stomach.
When I enter the office, the same two policemen from the hospital are there—Agent Gordon sitting, Agent Perez standing by the window.
"May I come in?" I ask.
"Morning, Laura," the principal says. "Please, sit."
Agent Gordon slides a photo across the desk. "Do you recognize this girl?"
The moment I look at it, my stomach knots. "Yes," I say quietly. "She was one of the girls who attacked me."
I hesitate, but the truth keeps pushing up, demanding to be said.
"And… she told me to stay away from Jae."
Both agents exchange a sharp look.
"They beat me because of him," I add, voice tight.
Agent Perez steps forward. "Jae—he's a student here?"
I nod. "Yeah."
Principal Reed picks up the phone. "I'll bring him in."
Agent Perez looks back at me. "You didn't mention any of this before."
My fingers twist together. "I was scared," I whisper. "I didn't want things to get worse."
They wrap up their questions. I stand, ready to leave, when Principal Reed stops me at the door.
"The girl in the photo… was found dead last night."
The world tilts.
"Oh my God."
"This is very serious," he says. "If there's anything else you remember… anything at all, don't keep it to yourself."
I nod, swallowing hard, and walk out.
Outside, I see Jae walking toward the office with the counselor.
Cold. Focused. Dangerous.
His earlier words echo:
Those girls? Not gonna touch you again.
He stares at me as he passes. Nothing else shows, just this dark, unreadable edge.
James materializes beside me. "Where the hell were you?"
"Jesus—don't sneak up on me."
"Okay, you're jumpy as hell. What happened now?"
"One of the girls who beat me… she's dead."
James's eyes go wide. "Holy shit."
"The cops are here. They showed me her picture. I told them everything. Even about Jae."
"Shit." he says, blinking. "But… you did the right thing."
I swallow. "Maybe I should talk to him."
"No. Bad idea. He's violent, obsessed, and clearly unstable. He might've killed her, Laura."
"I don't believe that."
"You're not thinking straight." James says quikly.
"James—"
"He might be a sociopath. A stalker. A murderer. Pick one."
"Stop," I whisper. "There's no way he could do something like that."
He lets out a sharp breath. "I have to go. And Laura… until the police figure it out, stay away from him."
I say nothing.
When I walk into class, Giselle and Mallory stare at me.
No insults. No smirks.
Just silence.
I'm not sure that's a good thing.
***
The teacher drones on, reading aloud from the textbook, but I can barely pay attention.
Half an hour passes, slow and endless, when suddenly the door swings open without a knock.
Every head turns, startled. My heart jumps.
It's Jae. Tall. Fierce. Angry.
His eyes sweep across the room like he's hunting, and my cheeks heat up before I even know why.
When his gaze lands on me, it's like he's found exactly what he came for.
"Hey, young man! We're in the middle of class!" the teacher calls, clearly annoyed.
Jae doesn't even look at him. He strides toward me, deliberate and unstoppable.
The teacher follows, telling him to leave, but Jae ignores every word.
I stand, panic flaring. "Jae—" I try to speak, but he doesn't let me.
His hand clamps around my arm, firm and unyielding, and he drags me out of the room before I can even blink.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" the teacher shouts, racing after us.
"It's fine," I call back, more to calm myself than him.
Jae doesn't slow. He just steps past the teacher and pulls me further down the hall.
I struggle, muttering, "Let go," but he doesn't listen.
Finally, he stops at the end of the corridor and releases me. His eyes are dark, stormy, dangerous.
"Are you insane?" I gasp, trying to catch my breath.
"I already told you I'm crazy," he says, voice low and sharp, "and apparently, now I'm a murderer too. You just told the cops I might have killed someone."
I freeze, words caught in my throat. And yet… some part of me knows he wouldn't. He couldn't.
"I didn't say you killed her," I manage finally. "I only said they told me to stay away from you."
His gaze locks on mine, unwavering. My heart races, my throat tight.
"You said those girls wouldn't touch me again, and that girl—"
"Does that mean I killed her?" He snaps, voice icy and tense.
"No, but—"
"But what?" He leans closer.
I can't speak. I want to, but my voice betrays me.
"Talk!" he snaps, the edge in his voice making my heart hammer.
I finally gather enough courage to ask, "What happened to the boy in a coma?"
His expression softens—or maybe cracks.
The anger is gone, replaced by something hurt, almost human.
"How do you know about that?" His voice is quiet now, wary.
He lowers his head, runs a hand through his hair, then turns away.
"David," he mutters.
I step closer. I need answers. I can't let this go. "Can you please… just be honest with me for once?"
He says nothing.
"If you don't tell me now," I press, voice firmer than I feel, "I swear I'll never let you come near me again."
His head snaps toward me, and for a moment, I see worry flash in his eyes.
Finally, he speaks. "He was… Adam. My best friend. And no, I didn't put him in a coma."
Relief rushes through me, warm and overwhelming. I know he's telling the truth.
I watch him, surprised by the vulnerability there.
The boy who seems unshakable, untouchable, is hurting just like I am.
"And the girls?" I ask, voice trembling.
"I only warned Bianca to stay away from you. Nothing else."
"Bianca?"
"My ex. Red-haired girl. Not the one found dead—that was her friend, Joanna."
I swallow, stunned, watching the tension leave his face in tiny waves.
"I went to the police the day they attacked you," he adds, quietly. "I reported them."
I drop my gaze, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I was so quick to assume the worst.
"What happened to Joanna?" I whisper.
"Drugs. She messed up with the wrong people."
"Drugs?" My eyebrows lift. "Like the kind that got you expelled?"
He exhales, long and tired. "It wasn't even mine. I just… I tried to cover for him."
I stare at him, the pieces shifting in my head, rearranging everything I thought I knew.
But that feeling's back. He's not lying… not really. It just feels like he's holding something back.
Always.
"And your girlfriend… why did she attack me?
"Ex-girlfriend," he corrects sharply. "Bianca has issues. Stopped taking her medication. The breakup hit her hard. Someone saw us at a pub and told her. That's all."
"But that's ridiculous," I say, because it is. "There´s nothing between us."
There can't be.
Jae doesn't argue. He doesn't nod. He doesn't say yes or no.
He just looks at me. Really looks at me.
Like he's waiting for me to figure something out he's too stubborn, or too scared, to say.
My heart kicks hard.
Deny it. Please deny it. Tell me you don't feel what I think you feel.
Tell me I'm imagining everything.
Because if you don't… I'm not sure I'll sleep another night without thinking about you.
After a moment, Jae drags a hand through his hair and shakes his head.
Not annoyed. Not dismissive.
More like he's trying to pull himself together.
Then he turns and walks away.
"Jae." My voice slips out before I can stop it.
He doesn't turn around.
I watch him fade into the distance, my pulse still hammering in my ears.
He didn't deny it.
Not for a second.
And that's the part that scares me the most.