Winter breeze touched the girl's beautiful pale face as if though it were a featherlight and tender kiss. Her green eyes glimmered with hope, her lips parted in awe, and the golden freckles on the bridge of her nose and cheeks, seemed to glow under the soft sun. She had no idea what was about to happen to her perfect life and nor was she going to realise as it happened so. Sometimes we don't know what god has planned for us, But it's always better to trust his plans... Because what's meant to happen, happens in one way or the other.
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"Good Gracious Heavens!! Blackwell is Brilliant isn't it??
She talked to herself absent minded and unbeknownst to the hustle around her.
"Oh Goodness! Why am I thinking GOOD of this building...UGHHHH!!
The atmosphere was cold...and had an unsettling vibe about it..
"Brrrr....I've a very bad feeling this city's judging me before i even unpacked the most treacherous of clothes i have..."
thinking of unpacking, she turned around and smiled at the nice woman dragging her fancy suitcase(s). The Lady, wearing a crisp white uniform, and hair done in a sleek bun.
"i wonder what gel she used.. or is it natural, hmm??"
She was plump, middle-aged, a friendly looking person for this place.
"i must say she isn't pretty.. ugh.. i shouldn't say it. why am i so judgy?"
She had a bad yet good habit of finding BEAUTY in people. She stopped walking and turned around to help her a bit because her KIND heart couldn't see the sight of the woman carrying and dragging the amount of luggage.
"Ahh!! Miss?? I beg your pardon. Your good name??"
The lady dropped a bag and gasped. Her cheeks seemed to have lost all their colour and her face and hands went pale, as if though she had asked something that may've been forbidden to ask.
"Ah...uh...ohh..i..Mademoiselle...My name??...There's no use in knowing my name."
She was avoiding her gaze and constantly fidgeting with a strange ring on the ring finger that caught her eye—silver, worn smooth, engraved with the same sharp lines she would later recognize elsewhere.
She softly walked closer to the lady. She barely reached her shoulder blades, well after all she was a blazing 5'4.. not tall but happy enough to see someone shorter than her. She looked down and bent a few inches to meet her eyes. She had striking Golden, almond eyes with flecks of gold in it, although there was something else in those beautiful eyes...
...FEAR...
"if there's something, you can definitely share it. But i won't push you into something you don't want to admit."
She said and got back to her full height, letting go of the questionnaire because the colour of the lady's face terrified her into thinking she might just pass out. She smiled and said..
"oh. Very well Miss. Let's get going and kindly don't drop the bags, they cost more than..." she stops herself before she said something she'd have to regret later. "Uhh, Nevermind."
Walking across the stone pathway, as she gazed with her pretty mouth open at the beautiful building of the Blackwell University for the Elite class. Her chelsea boots clicked elegantly as they finally arrived..
She stepped through the iron gates with her suitcase rattling behind her, carried by the no name lady. She was already regretting the Chelsea Boots. Blackwell wasn't loud about its prestige. It didn't need to be. The buildings stood in pale stone and clean lines, old enough to feel important but maintained just enough to feel relevant—like they'd learned how to age gracefully.
The path curved between trimmed lawns and narrow walkways, students moving past her with an ease that felt practiced. Tailored coats, low conversations, leather boots clicking softly against the ground. No one rushed. No one looked lost. Everyone looked like they belonged.
She adjusted the stray strand of her perfectly wavy hair and kept walking.
The main quad opened up ahead, wide and orderly, framed by symmetrical buildings and tall windows that reflected the grey afternoon sky. A bell rang somewhere in the distance—subtle, not demanding—while a group of students laughed near the steps, their voices low, controlled, almost polite.
Inside the building, the air changed. Warmer. Quieter. The corridor smelled faintly of books and clean stone. Lamps cast a soft glow along the walls, and the floors—polished but worn—echoed with footsteps that seemed to slow on their own. It wasn't intimidating. It was… intentional.
She passed notice boards crowded with printed schedules and handwritten flyers, caught her reflection in a glass case.
"Oufff!! it hurts to be this pretty. No wonder Mom always makes me meet all the fancy friends she's got .. whatever.." and straightened her coat without thinking. This place had a way of making you check yourself.
Outside again, she followed the signs toward the dorms. The buildings here were simpler—less dramatically vintage like explained by her parents, as if they ever had any time for her.
She had barely taken two steps inside when a voice cut through the quiet.
"Good day, m'lady."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't mocking. Just amused enough to make her stop.
She turned.
He was leaning casually against the stair rail, one hand in his pocket, the other resting loosely at his side—as if he'd been there all along. Tall. Dark coat, perfectly fitted without trying too hard. His boots were polished, his shirt crisp, and his expression held that particular kind of confidence that didn't ask for permission.
He looked… composed. Too composed.
His eyes flicked briefly to her suitcase, then back to her face, a corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Never seen ya around here?," he added, voice smooth, almost conversational. "You lost? or brave? Hard to tell on the first day."
Her green eyes fluttered once, caught off guard—not by the words, but by how easily he'd said them. Like speaking to strangers was something he did often. Like he expected them to listen.
"I beg your pardon but... I'm not lost!" she said the words in a perplexed tone, as if she wasn't quite sure what to even say to his cocky demeanor.
His smile widened just a fraction. Those perfect lips curving into a smile.
"Of course not," he said. "Blackwell has that effect. Makes everyone think they know exactly where they're going."
He straightened, finally pushing away from the rail, and the movement was enough to remind her that he was real. Close. Observant. and most terrifyingly... Handsome...
"Welcome," he said, eyes holding hers for a second longer than necessary. "You'll get used to it here. Or, maybe not."
As he turned to leave, the cuff of his coat shifted. Just for a second, she saw it—a thin black symbol inked at his wrist, sharp and deliberate. Then it was gone.
She frowned, unsettled, her mind drifting back to earlier that afternoon—to the woman who had helped her with her suitcases.
She remembered the ring now. Silver. Heavy. Etched with a symbol that hadn't felt decorative at all.
The coincidence sat uneasily in her chest.
She hesitated, then called out—mostly to stop herself from staring.
"Is it always this… quiet here?" she asked, gesturing vaguely toward the corridor and walking up to him but keeping a mere distance, though her eyes betrayed her, slipping back to his wrist. To the mark there.
He noticed. Of course he did.
"Only when people are paying attention," he replied. His tone was light, but his gaze sharpened, briefly flicking to where she was looking before meeting her eyes again. "Blackwell doesn't like careless curiosity."
Her breath caught—not at the words, but at the way he said them.
Up close, she was impossible to miss. Pale skin warmed by a dusting of light freckles across her nose and cheeks, green almond-shaped eyes that reflected more than they revealed. Her hair fell in loose, golden waves down her back, catching the light every time she moved. She didn't try to be seen.
She simply was.
"And what happens," she asked softly, still watching the tattoo as if it might move, "when someone asks the wrong question?"
A faint smile touched his lips. Not kind. Not cruel.
"They usually get an answer," he said. "Just not the one they were hoping for."
He shifted then, just enough for the sleeve to fall back into place, hiding the ink completely.
Her gaze lifted to his face. He was unfairly handsome in a way that felt intentional. Sharp features softened by restraint—a strong jaw, clean lines, dark eyes that held a quiet intelligence rather than warmth. His hair was neatly styled, not fashionable enough to be trying, dark strands falling just slightly out of place as if he'd forgotten to care.
Up close, the effect was disarming. Not because he smiled—he didn't—but because his attention felt deliberate. Measured. Like he was already deciding something she hadn't agreed to yet.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. But the way he had spoken earlier left an uneasiness in her chest.
Subtle threat. Not scary. Intriguing.
His gaze lingered on her for a second too long.
"Be careful or don't, but...," he said, voice low. "People here notice things they shouldn't."
he took her figure in from head to toe and shook his head.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added,"And you're… noticeable. VERY noticeable."
With that, he let his deep and dark eyes intrigue her and he turned and walked away, his coat shifting just enough to reveal the edge of the tattoo once more before it vanished.
She swallowed. His eyes almost seemed to hypnotize her after he left, the image of those eyes implanted into her brain.
Somewhere deep in the building, a door clicked shut. Only then did she realise,
she never asked his name...either did she tell hers.
"Good luck not fallin in love, Aurelia Disa Ashbourne."
She whispered to herself because she knew she just slipped... for the first time in the history of her 19 year old life.
...
Beautiful things, after all, were rarely left alone.
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