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Half the time, I felt bad for her. If Sergei wasn’t interested, he should’ve just told her instead of stringing her along.

Five seconds later, I learned she deserved it.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to hit on a man who belongs to someone else?” She sneered, ripping the phone from my grasp. “Sergei is mine.” She declared, and a laugh nearly escaped me at the sheer absurdity of it.

Ever since I joined KU, I’d caught Sergei looking at me more times than I could count. He was always staring, never coming closer, or trying to talk to me, but every time I noticed him, he looked kind of…sad.

But that’s where my thoughts about him began and ended.

I had never once spoken to him.

Before I could process another thought, icy mint soda splashed all over me, soaking through my clothes.

Around us, Alina’s little entourage burst into laughter while every pair of eyes in the cafeteria turned towards me— the quiet girl who usually faded into the background.

“I hardly want a man. What makes you think I’d lust after one who’s already committed?” I shot back.

Back then, I didn’t care that Sergei was committed, because I didn’t really care about Sergei.

Now, on the other hand… Well.

He’s disturbing, infuriating, and has hijacked ninety percent of my thoughts. My self-loathing is absolutely livid about having to share the remaining ten with self-destructive thoughts.

Misplaced jealousy is a bitch. She learned that the moment her forehead collided with the edge of the table after I slammed her against it.

I tore my phone from her grip and walked away without another glance at her sprawled figure.

After that, we never spoke again. Though judging by the way she is marching towards me now, her pride clearly hadn’t suffered enough damage the first time.

“If you’re here for Sergei, he’s busy.” She sneers, looking down at me like I’m a cockroach beneath her heels.

Her long red nails complementing the champagne- coloured dress hugging every inch of her body.

Note to self: she’s not the girl from the picture.

“Clearly not with you.” I chuckle, dismissing her with a look of disgust.

I’ve never thought highly of women who fight over men, and refuse to become one of them, so I turn and walk away.

That is how you avoid violence.

I don’t bother slowing down as I pass Aleksandr and Roman. The former winks at me before snickering at something under his breath.

I shake my head, thinking nothing of it, and hurry past the ballroom towards the long corridor lined with rooms.

After checking nearly ten of them, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening behind those closed doors.

The thought of Sergei being behind one of them, touching someone else, only makes me move faster.

Something in my chest cracks at the thought.

I know I’m not special. I’m the one who pushed him away. But that doesn’t stop the sting of feeling replaceable. Temporary.

I open the second-to-last door at the end of the corridor. It creaks softly as warm golden light spills into the dark room, tinged faintly with red.

There he is.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up, almost ready to murder the intruder. The moment his eyes meet mine, the glint in them is impossible to miss.