It should feel cold. It should feel lonely.
But for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t.
Not here. Not next to him.
SEVENTEEN
Bea practically vibrates with excitement, clapping her hands together. “Guys! We should totally hang out after school. I’m thinking—shopping spree!”
Lilia’s face lights up. “Ooh, yes! Or maybe come to my place? It’ll be so much fun!”
Bea leans forward, almost glowing. “Oh my god, yes! Addie, youhaveto come. And you’ll meet Lilia’s little sister. Dawn is going toloooveyou.”
They’re so full of life, so carefree. It almost makes me want to go with them. Almost. I can’t be mad at them for wanting to drag me into their plans, but I can’t just blow off everything waiting for me at home either. My mum needs me. And my sisters? They’re about as reliable as an umbrella in a hurricane.
I open my mouth to respond—some version of “I can’t” that doesn’t feel too much like a rejection—but my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Odd. It never does that.
Unless…
Frowning, I glance down at the screen. An unknown number stares back at me, a single message blinking in its bubble:
What else happened on February 4?
My stomach flips, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. My grip tightens on the phone, my pulse pounding in my ears as cold dread seeps into my chest, spreading like a disease. February 4—the day my father died. The date that haunted me for months on end, the one that won’t leave me alone. My mind splinters into pieces. Why that day? Why now?
And most importantly,What else do they know?
“Addie?” Bea’s voice breaks through my spiralling thoughts. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile, one that feels like it might crack at the edges. “Yeah. Fine.”
But before I can even finish pretending, another message lights up the screen.
Computer room. Room 204.
My stomach drops. This isn’t random. Whoever this is—whatever they want—they know exactly what they’re doing.
“Addie?” Lilia’s voice is softer this time, cautious. “Are yousureyou’re okay?”
I nod too quickly, my movements too erratic. “I just remembered—I need to grab something from my locker before class,” I blurt, hoping the urgency in my tone masks the shakiness in my voice.
They exchange a glance, but thankfully, they let it go. Lying has never been my strong suit, but lately, I’ve been getting too good at it.
***
The hallways are quieter now, just the occasional squeak of shoes on tile as students shuffle to class. Making my way toward the locker, I spot someone.
Kai.
He’s leant against the lockers, one arm propped up, the other clutching his phone as he talks into it.
His tone is calm, technically, but I don’t miss the heat bubbling under the surface. Something frayed. Controlled, but barely.
I’ve never seen him lose control before; this is probably the angriest I’ve ever seen him.
It doesn’t suit him.
