Jayjay POV
The gates of HVIS were taller than I expected.
White walls. Clean paths. Students in neat uniforms laughing like the world had never bitten them before. Everything about the place screamed order—the kind I never grew up with.
"This is your new school," Aunty Gemma said as the car slowed. "You'll be staying with us from now on."
I nodded, fingers tightening around the bracelet Hex gave me. It felt like an anchor. Like proof I hadn't imagined my old life.
Angelo hadn't said much since we left. He drove with both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, jaw tight. The silence between us wasn't awkward—it was practiced.
We got out.
The air smelled different here. Too clean. Too calm.
Students passed by, some glancing at me with curiosity. I knew the look. New girl. Outsider. Someone to study.
I lifted my chin.
Let them look.
"Jayjay," Angelo said. "Someone's coming."
I turned.
And there he was.
Aries.
He looked exactly like I remembered—and nothing like I expected.
Same sharp eyes. Same calm posture. Taller now. Broader shoulders. A presence that didn't need to be loud to be felt.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said my name. "Jasper."
I hated when he used my full name. Always had.
"Aries," I replied.
Aunty Gemma glanced between us, tension flickering across her face. "You already know each other."
"We do," Aries said evenly.
No surprise. No confusion.
Because unlike everyone else, we already knew the truth.
We were siblings.
Not the kind that grew up together.
The kind that shared blood and distance.
"Come," he said. "I'll show you around."
I followed him through the campus. Students greeted him easily—nods, smiles, respect. He wasn't popular in a loud way. He was… established.
"So," I said, breaking the silence. "This is where you disappeared to."
"I didn't disappear," he replied. "I stayed where I was placed."
That sounded like him.
We stopped near a courtyard. I leaned against the railing, watching students below.
"You don't have to protect me," I said quietly. "I didn't come here expecting anything."
He looked at me then—really looked. "You shouldn't have had to expect anything at all."
That almost surprised me.
Almost.
"People here won't be like where you came from," he added.
I smiled, sharp and unapologetic. "Good. Because I'm not changing to fit them."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "I didn't think you would."
A bell rang.
"Your class is that way," he said, pointing. "If anyone gives you trouble—"
"I handle my own problems," I cut in.
"I know," he said. "But now you're not alone."
That was new.
I walked toward the building, every step heavier than the last. New school. New house. New rules.
I walked through it anyway, bag slung over my shoulder, eyes forward.
I didn't know where I was going.
I just looked for the sign: 503.
A group of boys stood outside the classroom.
They were impossible to miss.
Too tall. Too relaxed. Too sure of themselves. The kind of boys who owned space without asking permission.
I slowed slightly as I passed them—just long enough to register faces, attitudes… and him.
One boy stood out.
Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. A lollipop in his mouth like he didn't care who noticed him. He wasn't smiling like the others. He wasn't loud either.
But something about him pulled my attention.
Handsome, my mind supplied.
Annoying.
I looked away before he noticed and walked straight into the classroom.
The room went quiet.
Not instantly—but gradually. Chairs stopped scraping. Conversations died mid-sentence.
I chose a seat near the middle, dropped my bag, and sat.
That's when I felt it.
Eyes.
Everywhere.
I leaned back, unbothered. What? Never seen a girl sit before?
Footsteps entered the room.
Heavy. Confident.
The air shifted.
I looked up.
It was him.
The lollipop boy.
He walked in like the room belonged to him. No rush. No hesitation. His gaze scanned the class… then landed on me.
And stayed there.
He stopped right in front of my desk.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.
His voice was low. Controlled. Not loud—but it didn't need to be.
I blinked once.
Then looked down at the chair.
Then back up at him.
"Sitting," I said calmly. "What else?"
A few gasps. Someone snorted. Someone else whispered.
His jaw tightened.
"You're in the wrong place."
I tilted my head. "Then why does it say 503 on the door?"
Silence.
He stared at me like he was deciding something.
I stared back.
Up close, he was even more irritatingly good-looking. Not soft-pretty. Sharp. Intimidating. The kind of face people didn't forget.
I didn't look away.
Neither did he.
The tension stretched—thin and electric.
Then he turned and walked to his seat.
But I knew.
From the way everyone exhaled.
From the way the room felt different.
This wasn't just a class.
And that boy?
He was trouble.
And somehow…
I had just walked straight into his territory.