WebNovels

Chapter 15 - Rotten in the Center

Sebastian Ashford's POV (Present)

I saw her before I even sat down.

Rain Wang.

She was tucked into the corner table of the cafeteria, shoulders hunched so tight it looked like her body had forgotten how to relax. The kind of posture you only get when your skin doesn't feel safe anymore. When your name is more echo than identity.

She looked smaller than I remembered.

That stupid hair she always wore down like some damn fairytale was now stuffed into a thick, clumsy bun, strands falling loose around her face like defeat. Her hoodie was two sizes too big, sleeves half-covering her fingers as she picked at her lunch with surgical precision. She didn't eat it. Just… moved it around. Touched it like it might bite back.

She looked nothing like the girl I first saw a year ago—struggling with her map, turning in slow circles in the middle of campus, hair down to her knees swaying with each step. Back then, she looked lost.

Now, she looked like she'd given up trying to find her way.

"She actually showed up today," someone behind me muttered. I didn't need to turn to know they were talking about her.

A snort. "Yeah, guess her pity party ran out of snacks."

Laughter.

Ugly. Cruel. Familiar.

I didn't laugh.

I didn't say anything.

I just stared at her tray. A few grapes. Half a sandwich. One bite taken. One.

Why the hell couldn't she eat?

Why the hell did I care?

I forced myself to look away, stuffing my hands in my pockets like they weren't twitching with guilt. With something worse.

With want.

God. What was wrong with me?

She flinched when someone brushed too close to her table. Didn't even lift her head. Just curled further inward like she expected to be hit. Like she'd learned the cafeteria rules the hard way: Stay small. Stay invisible. Don't exist too loudly.

I clenched my jaw.

I didn't mean for her to break.

I just—wanted her to notice me.

To hate me. To look at me.

And now she didn't look at anyone.

Now she wasn't even Rain anymore—just a ghost haunting our second-year shadow.

Someone nudged me.

"You okay, Ashford?" It was Reza. My lab partner. "You're burning a hole through her head."

I didn't answer.

Because I was burning. Somewhere deep in my chest, under the layers of pride and poison, something was burning.

I got up. Walked out. Left my tray untouched.

Because suddenly, I didn't feel hungry either.

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