College had been… manageable.
Noah kept his head down, stayed quiet, focused on classes and his part-time job. No one asked too many questions. He never gave them a reason to.
He liked it that way.
So when his classmate Leo invited him to the "Welcome Party" for new students, Noah was ready to say no. But Leo was persistent.
"Come on, man," he said, slapping Noah on the back. "It's just for a bit. Free drinks, loud music, people pretending to be cool. You could use a night off."
Noah almost said no again — but he was tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of thinking about her.
So, he agreed.
The party was being held in an off-campus villa — one of those rented homes with expensive lights and rented speakers. The place was packed. Music thumped through the walls. People danced, laughed, took photos.
Noah stayed near the edge of the room, hoodie on, cup in hand.
He barely drank it.
"Hey, you made it!" Leo shouted over the noise, raising his drink. "Now that's a win!"
Noah smiled politely and nodded. "Just for a bit."
But even as he stood there, surrounded by strangers and distraction, he couldn't shake the feeling creeping up his spine.
Like someone was watching.
He turned around, scanning the crowd.
Nothing.
Just people.
Just noise.
Just—
Then, the front door opened.
And time stopped.
Seraphine walked in like she was walking into her own house.
She wore a dark green dress that shimmered under the party lights. Her silver hair was tied loosely behind her head, and her eyes—those sharp, glowing emeralds—locked onto him the second she stepped inside.
Noah's heart stopped.
She shouldn't be here.
She couldn't be here.
She wasn't even a student anymore.
But she was there.
Because of him.
He tried to move, to disappear into the crowd, but it was too late.
She was already walking toward him.
Every step slow. Confident. Inevitable.
He turned and tried to leave through the back.
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Not rough, not violent—just firm.
"Running again?" she asked softly behind him. "You never change."
He froze.
Her voice hadn't changed. Neither had the way it made his stomach twist.
She pulled him gently, like she already knew he wouldn't resist.
"I missed you, Noah."
He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
She leaned closer, whispering against his ear, "Let's talk somewhere quieter."
He should've said no.
He knew he should've.
But he followed.
Her car was parked just outside. Sleek, black, expensive. The kind of car that didn't belong in a student neighborhood.
She opened the door for him.
Noah hesitated only a second.
Then stepped inside.
The ride was silent, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional glance she threw his way.
He didn't look at her.
But his heart was racing.
They arrived at her house — a tall, clean white building behind a gate, just outside the city. She entered the code, the gate opened, and they pulled inside.
Noah followed her through the front door, his hoodie still on, his fingers curled in his sleeves.
She didn't speak until they were inside.
Then she turned to face him.
"You've grown," she said softly.
He looked down at the floor. "You shouldn't have come to the party."
"You didn't look happy there," she replied, stepping closer. "I thought you'd prefer something... calmer."
He stayed still.
She walked past him, slowly removing her coat and letting it drop over a chair.
"You look scared," she said, not unkindly. "Just like before."
"I'm not," he lied.
She laughed.
"Liar."
She came closer again — too close. Her hand reached out and tugged his hoodie slightly.
"You always wear this," she murmured. "Still hiding."
He stepped back.
Her eyes flickered with amusement. "You ran away last night," she said. "I didn't like that."
"You left first," he said quietly, surprising even himself.
Her smile faltered for a second.
Then returned.
"So you did miss me."
He didn't answer.
She reached out and cupped his cheek.
And this time, he didn't pull away.
Her touch was soft. Gentle.
Too familiar.
"I thought about you," she said. "A lot. Did you think about me?"
"…Sometimes."
That was the truth.
She leaned in.
His heart pounded.
And for a moment, everything was quiet — just her, just him, just the past and present melting into something dangerous.
Then she whispered, "You're mine, Noah."