The rain came down in sheets, drumming hard on the gazebo roof like it was trying to drown out the world.
Mira and Alexander sat side by side on the old wooden bench, close enough that their shoulders brushed, but not quite touching anywhere else. Water dripped from the eaves, from his dark hair, from the ends of hers. Neither of them moved to leave.
Minutes stretched. The storm didn't let up.
Finally, Mira spoke, voice soft. "How long has it been… like that? With your dad."
Alexander stared at the rain. "Since I was eleven. Maybe ten. Mom left when I was twelve. Couldn't take the yelling, the bottles, the promises he never kept." He gave a bitter half-laugh. "She moved to France. Sends birthday cards. Real thoughtful."
Mira's heart ached in a way she hadn't expected. She'd spent weeks thinking he had everything. Perfect life, perfect family, perfect smile. Seeing the cracks now—deep, jagged ones—shifted everything.
"I'm sorry," she said. Simple. True.
He turned his head, blue eyes searching her face. "You don't have to be. It's just… nobody here knows. Not really. They see the house, the cars, the name on the gym wing. They don't see him coming home at 3 a.m., slurring my name like it's a curse."
Mira swallowed. "Why tell me?"
He hesitated. Looked away again. "Because you don't look at me like I'm something to win. Or use. You look at me like I'm… real. Even when you hated me."
"I didn't hate you," she said quietly. Then, honest: "Okay. Maybe a little."
That pulled a small, genuine smile from him. The kind that reached his eyes and made something flutter in her chest.
"Fair," he said.
Thunder rolled overhead.
Mira shivered—not just from cold. The vulnerability in his voice, the way he'd chased her through the halls, torn down those awful papers… it all crashed over her.
She reached out again, this time lacing her fingers properly through his.
He stilled. Then squeezed back, gentle but firm.
"I used to think you were arrogant too," he admitted. "Beautiful, crazy smart, walking around like you didn't need anyone. It drove me nuts."
Mira huffed a laugh. "I don't need anyone."
"I know." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "But maybe… you could want someone. Sometimes."
The air between them charged. Rain roared. Lightning flashed, illuminating his face—sharp angles, wet lashes, lips parted like he was holding back words.
Mira's breath caught.
She should pull away. Should stand up, thank him for the honesty, go back to her dorm and rebuild her walls.
Instead, she leaned in.
Just an inch.
He met her the rest of the way.
The kiss was soft at first—hesitant, testing. Rainwater on his lips, warmth against the cold. Then deeper, hungrier, like they'd both been waiting weeks for this exact moment.
His free hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing her jaw. She sighed into his mouth, fingers tightening in his.
When they broke apart, foreheads still touching, both breathing hard.
"Shit," he whispered, half-laughing. "I've wanted to do that since the day you dropped your sketchbook on my shoes."
Mira smiled—real, unguarded. "Took you long enough."
He kissed her again, quicker this time, like he couldn't help it.
Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Insistent.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
With a groan, he pulled it out.
His face hardened.
Text from an unknown number: Tell your little girlfriend to watch her back. Some secrets don't stay buried.
Below it: a photo.
Mira's dorm room window—from outside. Taken tonight. Rain streaking the glass, but her desk lamp visible. Her open sketchbook on the bed.
Someone had been watching her.
Alexander's grip on the phone turned white-knuckled.
"Who is that?" Mira asked, voice steady even as fear coiled in her gut.
"I don't know." He stood, pulling her up with him. "But we're not staying here."
He shrugged off his blazer, draping it over her shoulders. It smelled like him—cedar, rain, something warm.
"My car's parked behind the maintenance building. No one will see us leave."
Mira nodded.
As they stepped out into the storm, hurrying across the flooded lawn, she glanced back at the shadows beyond the gazebo.
For a split second, she thought she saw movement.
A figure under the trees.
Watching.
When she blinked, it was gone.
But the chill stayed with her all the way to Alexander's car.
And as they sped away from campus, wipers slashing through the rain, Alexander reached over and took her hand again.
"I'm not letting anything happen to you," he said, voice low and fierce.
Mira squeezed back.
She believed him.
But deep down, she knew:
Whatever was coming for them…
It was only getting started.
End of Chapter 5