Chapter 1
The morning hallway was a war zone of slamming lockers and frantic chatter. I leaned against the cold metal of locker 304, clutching my backpack strap like a lifeline.
"Stop it," Ankita giggled, pushing Amar’s shoulder. "We're going to be late for Homeroom."
"Let us be late," Amar teased, leaning in closer to block her path. "I haven't seen you since yesterday afternoon. That's practically a lifetime."
I watched them. Amar reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Ankita's ear. It was such a soft, intimate gesture.
"Seriously, get a room you two," I said, forcing a grin that I hoped reached my eyes. "I am also here! In case you forgot about your single, very lonely friend standing right next to you."
They broke apart, laughing.
"Sorry, Pri," Amar said, flashing that smile that always made my stomach do a traitorous flip. "You know you're our favorite third wheel."
I watched them as Ankita opened her locker. She was glowing. She really was. Even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, she had this natural radiance. Her hair was perfect. Her uniform was crisp. She was so... uncomplicated.
It was no wonder Amar fell for her.
Amar was everything you would want in a high school sweetheart. He wasn't just handsome in the classic way. He had tall, broad shoulders and hair that always looked perfectly messy. But more than that, he was good. He had kind eyes. The kind of eyes that didn't judge you. He was safe. He was warm.
And I was none of those things.
I looked down at my shoes. The laces were fraying. I felt like a crack in the pavement next to a blooming garden.
You don't deserve this, the voice in the back of my head whispered. It was a familiar script. You don't deserve perfect grades. You don't deserve a perfect school life. And you certainly don't deserve love.
Love was for people who were whole. I was just a collection of sharp edges and sudden drops.
"Hey," Ankita said. Her voice dropped to that gentle, concerned tone I had grown to hate. She slammed her locker shut and turned to me. "How did you sleep last night? After... you know."
I stiffened. The playful atmosphere evaporated.
"I slept fine," I said quickly.
"You had a pretty bad panic attack on Tuesday," Amar said softly, stepping back to include me in the circle. "You scared us, Pri."
"I know," I muttered, gripping my bag tighter. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." Ankita reached out and squeezed my arm. Her touch was warm. "We just want to make sure you're okay. Are you still seeing that new doctor this week?"
"Yeah," I lied. "Thursday. It's just stress. Senior year pressure, right?"
"Right," Amar nodded, though he looked unconvinced. "Just promise you'll tell us if it gets loud again. The anxiety."
"I promise," I said.
It was a lie. I couldn't tell them. How could I explain that it wasn't just anxiety? That sometimes I felt so empty I wanted to scream. Other times I felt so much emotion I wanted to tear my skin off just to let it out. They were supportive. But they were normal. They wouldn't understand the monster living in my head.
Suddenly, the noise level in the hallway dropped.
It wasn't a gradual silence. It was instant. Like someone had cut the power to the world.
"What's going on?" Ankita whispered, standing on her tiptoes to look over the crowd.
The main double doors at the end of the corridor swung open.
A boy walked in. He didn't look like he belonged here. Our school was prestigious. It was full of blazers, polished shoes, and students terrified of stepping out of line. This guy looked like a storm cloud that had drifted indoors.
He was tall, wearing the school uniform but disrespecting it entirely. His top button was undone, his tie was loose, and he wore a leather jacket over his blazer. His hair was dark. It was swept back but messy. And his eyes... even from fifty feet away, I could see they were cold.
"Is that the new kid?" a girl by the water fountain whispered loudly. "Oh my god. He is gorgeous."
"I heard he got kicked out of St. Jude's," a boy near the lockers whispered back, sounding nervous. "Put a guy in the hospital."
"My dad said his father is some big politician," another voice murmured. "That's the only reason Principal Mathur let him in. He's trouble. Veer. That was the name on the roster."
He walked down the center of the hallway. The crowd parted for him instinctively. Girls stopped talking to stare. Boys shifted their weight, suddenly finding their shoes very interesting, avoiding eye contact. He had an aura of danger that was almost magnetic.
I should have looked away. I should have been scared like the boys or giggling like the girls.
Instead, I felt a strange pull.
As he walked past us, I caught a glimpse of his profile. Sharp jawline. A small scar near his eyebrow. He didn't look at anyone. He looked bored. Angry.
He looked like the sharp edge of a knife.
I stared at him, unable to look away. He was beautiful, yes. But it wasn't the warm, safe beauty of Amar. It was the kind of beauty that warned you. Do not touch. You will bleed.
And for someone like me, who was always looking for a way to feel something, that sharpness was the most attractive thing in the world.
