When Hearts Whisper 🌹

First day at Rosemont and I already hated it. Not because of the classes, but because my mom’s voice was screaming through my room like an alarm clock.

“Zoya! Get up, you’re going to be late again!” my mom’s voice cut through the silence of my room.

I groaned and buried my head under the pillow.

Five minutes later, I forced myself up, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the curtains. A hot shower helped wash away some of the sleep, and I pulled on a simple white top with black jeans. Comfortable, but not sloppy. After all, it was the first impression.

When I walked into the kitchen, the usual storm was waiting for me. Mom was sipping her tea, her eyes sharp. Beside her sat Denny, my stepfather, with that fake, practiced smile plastered on his face.

Sorry, Mom,” I said sheepishly.

She arched her eyebrow and took a sip of coffee. “This is your first day of college, Zoya. You should be on time.”

I didn’t answer.

“Nervous?” she asked, but I stayed quiet.

“By the way, I have lots of pending chores to do, so Denny will drop you,” Mom added casually.

I jumped in frustration and snapped, “Don’t bother him. I don’t need anyone’s help. I can go by myself. Moreover, I’m not a child anymore.”

“Zoya…” Mom raised her voice.

“Calm down, sweetheart. Don’t yell at her. She’s not a child,” Denny said gently.

That only made me angrier. My temper flared, and I screamed, “Who the bloody hell are you to interfere between me and my mom?”

“Zoya! Enough " mom hissed

“Why do you always make me the problem?” My voice rose, sharper than I intended.

But it was too late—I’d already thrown the words out. My chest burned with anger and hurt.He smiled like he owned the place. Like he hadn’t just walked into our lives two weeks ago, while my dad had walked out years ago without a second glance.The silence at the table was suffocating.

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and stormed out.

The air outside was cool and fresh, a small relief. My bus ride to Rosemont was a blur—I kept replaying the scene in the kitchen, wondering if I should have just kept quiet. But then, why was it always me who had to?

I guess now’s a good time to back up. My name is Zoya Chas. My parents divorce.Dad never had time for me, so I chose to live with Mom. Two weeks ago, we moved to Australia because Mom was promoted to her company’s headquarters. And somewhere between packing and flights, Mom married Denny Martin.

I got admission to Rosemont on a scholarship. Honestly, the huge library was the only reason I applied here. Books have always been my escape.

Rosemontl looked intimidating and beautiful all at once. The sprawling campus, the students buzzing around, laughter echoing through the lawns—it felt like I had stepped into a whole new world.

Inside the administration office, I collected my syllabus from Mr. William, who gave me a polite nod and a set of instructions.

Clutching the papers, I scanned the timetable. Taxation. First class. Perfect — if only I could actually find it.

I hurried through the corridor, lost in the maze of doors, until —

Crash.

I collided with someone so hard that the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the floor, tangled with him. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes locked. For a split second, everything around us blurred — the noise, the crowd, the world.

Fireflies. That’s what it felt like. Fireflies flickering under my skin.

Before I could move, his hand slid through my hair, sending a shiver all the way down my spine. My whole body vibrated as his face lowered — and then, without warning, his lips crashed into mine.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, like this was something inevitable.My whole body froze. My mind screamed no, but my lips still tingled where he touched me. It felt wrong, unfair, stolen—and yet the world was watching like it was entertainment.

Shock jolted me awake. I shoved him back and scrambled to my feet, my voice bursting out before I could think.

“What the fu*k! That was my first kiss…!”

He threw his head back and laughed, loud and shameless. “Oh my goodness. Don’t say that I am your first kiss.”

A silence fell. I could feel the weight of eyes on us — dozens of them, burning holes into my skin.

“Shit… shit…” I muttered, heat flooding my face. Without another word, I bolted, running straight into the bathroom.

I locked myself in, leaning against the cold door, my chest heaving. My lips still tingled. My head spun.

I stayed there until the first class ended, debating whether to face the world again. Finally, with no choice left, I cracked the door open, peeked out, and slipped into the classroom. I slid into a middle row seat, forcing myself to look invisible.

A couple of minutes later, the professor walked in, and class began — but my mind was still trapped in that corridor, in those burning eyes, in the kiss I never asked for.

Hey,” a girl whispered beside me. “I’m Serena Stuart.”

“Zoya Chase,” I murmured back.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God—you’re the one Roman kissed?”

My stomach twisted. “Wait… who?”

“Roman westwood. .” She grinned with excitement.

Someone behind whispers, “She’s the girl he kissed.”

Before Zoya can shrink lower in her seat, She flipped her hair back, gave the gossipers a death stare, and said:

Yeah? And so what? At least she didn’t beg for his attention like half the people here.”

The class falls silent. Zoya glances at her, surprised, while Serena winks:

“Relax. I don’t let my friends drown alone.”