Night Before - Tristan's Room
The glow of his desk lamp flickered as Tristan stared at the photo on his phone. Gianna. Smiling beside Emrys in the music room. Her expression soft, unguarded—not the icy glare she reserved for him.
His jaw clenched.
Why do I want to get burned so badly?
The phone dimmed and went dark, but the fire in his head only intensified.
He tossed the phone aside and fell back on his bed, one arm draped over his forehead. But sleep didn't come. Instead, memory did.
Flashback - 5 Years Ago, Veymont-Greystorm Charity Gala Rehearsal
Fourteen-year-old Gianna stood backstage, fidgeting with the sash of her princess costume. Her curls were still drying from the last-minute salon run. Fifteen-year-old Tristan approached, half-dressed in his prince attire, fiddling with his cufflink.
"You lost again?" she teased.
He scowled. "It won't stay on."
Gianna smirked and stepped closer. "Hold still. I got it."
Their hands brushed. She clipped the cufflink into place with ease, then pulled a ribbon from her own sash and tied it loosely around his wrist.
"Now you look charming. Almost like royalty."
Tristan stared at her, wide-eyed. His ears burned.
Aunt Cassandra called from the seats, "Look at them. Like they were made to rule together."
Lucien Veymont and Aldric Greystorm stood a few feet away, sharing polite smiles.
Gianna rolled her eyes, laughing as she turned back toward the stage. But Tristan just stood there.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
He just watched her.
Present Day - Morning, College Hallways
Tristan shoved his locker shut harder than necessary. Emrys, standing nearby, blinked.
"Rough night?"
Tristan didn't answer. His phone buzzed. Another notification from Celeste.
He didn't open it. Not yet.
Down the hall, Sabrina Redwick passed with a trail of murmurs behind her. Red silk blouse. Diamond studs. Perfect blowout. Everyone turned. Gianna included.
She said nothing, but her silence was loud. Tristan caught it.
Courtyard - Veymont Mansion
Lucien Veymont swirled his coffee as he watched market reports. Cassandra Veymont entered, brows furrowed.
"There's noise again from the East Wing," she said.
Lucien looked up. "The council?"
She nodded. "Not serious. But Sabrina Redwick's arrival is already making waves. They think she's courting Greystorm power."
Lucien laughed coldly. "Let her try. Greystorms don't ally twice."
Music Room - College Grounds
Gianna played a few scattered notes on the grand piano. Emrys entered silently, hands in his pockets.
"You okay?" he asked.
She didn't stop playing. "Not really. But I'm used to it."
He nodded. Then added, "You know... you don't have to fake it around me."
She looked up. There it was again. That soft warmth.
Emrys offered a small smile. Then, from behind the door, a shadow moved.
Celeste Greystorm.
She stared through the glass, arms crossed. Her eyes burned with something between protectiveness and warning.
Later That Evening In Music Room
Celeste: "You're getting too close to her, Emrys."
Emrys: "You were listening again?"
Celeste: "I care. She's a Veymont. Doesn't matter if she's pretty or broken. She's still one of them."
Emrys sighed. "I just want peace. I'm tired of war."
Celeste softened. "Then stay out of it. For your own sake."
Afternoon - College Grounds
Whispers flew faster than ever.
"Did you see the way Sabrina looked at Tristan?"
"She's definitely after him."
"Gianna looks... tense."
Near the central fountain, Gianna and Tristan stood face to face.
"So," Tristan smirked, "how long until you accuse Sabrina of spying too?"
Gianna's eyes narrowed. "Are you two dating already, or do you just like throwing yourself at people who might actually tolerate your ego?"
He stepped closer. "You jealous?"
"Of what? A girl who wears red and bats her lashes? Please."
"You're acting like it."
"And you're acting like I matter to you."
That shut him up.
Gianna crossed her arms. "You think I'm manipulating Emrys? Really? Still on that theory?"
Tristan's voice was cold. "I saw the way he looks at you. It's the same way my uncle looked at your father's secretary before our empire fell."
Gianna flinched.
Tristan continued, "So yeah. I think you're repeating history."
Gianna stepped forward. "Your uncle disappeared the night everything collapsed. He's still hiding. Ever ask yourself why?"
"Your father walked out with the files. That's not hiding. That's betrayal."
She raised her voice. "Maybe it wasn't either of them. Maybe your perfect father had something to gain."
He went silent.
A few students nearby stared.
Gianna pushed past him. "I'm done playing villain in your story."
He watched her go. Every part of him burned.
Late Evening - Tristan's Room
He opened the text from Celeste at last.
Another photo. Another moment of Emrys and Gianna, this time standing close under the shade of the courtyard tree.
His chest tightened.
But beneath that fury... was something else.
A flicker of memory.
Gianna, backstage. That ribbon. Her laugh.
He closed his eyes.
Why do I still see you everywhere?
He didn't know if he missed the girl from the past...
...or hated the woman she had become.