Elara decided she would not think about it.
That was how denial began—not loudly, not dramatically—but with a quiet rearranging of facts until they no longer pricked.
Leon's transfer? Administrative reshuffling.
The blocked messages? Network issues.
The sudden distance in hallways? Social mood.
Coincidence.
"Obviously," she muttered to herself, pushing open the dorm window to let in the brittle morning air. "What the hell else would it be?"
The wind carried autumn in its breath—dry leaves, distant smoke, the faint hum of campus life continuing without her consent.
He had promised distance.
She remembered it clearly.
I will not interfere unless necessary.
Necessary.
The word had stretched between them like a blade.
"Necessary," she repeated now, scoffing softly. "Ridiculous."
Yet safety had begun to feel structured.
Arranged.
Corrected.
Like furniture subtly shifted in the night.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. "Ugh… stop."
