Sebastian Ashford's POV (Flashback)
She was sitting in the library. Again.
Like she belonged there.
Like she owned silence.
Rain Wang—always with that stupid, pristine posture, those ridiculous notebooks covered in doodles and formulas, and that waterfall of black hair draped over one shoulder like a veil. Everyone looked at her and saw mystery. Fragility. A little lost girl from nowhere, too poor to blend in, too pretty to ignore.
But I saw the lie.
I saw how every guy started offering her help—like she needed it. How the professors smiled when she spoke—like her voice deserved attention. How she kept her head down, soft and small, and still pulled focus in every goddamn room.
She was doing it again today. Sitting there with her highlighters, those little pink lips pressed in concentration, a cheap wool sweater hugging her narrow shoulders. Acting like this was her world.
So I walked right up behind her.
And when she didn't hear me?
I snatched the notebook from under her hand.
She gasped—soft, startled—and stood up so fast her chair clattered backward. A few students looked up. That only made it better.
"What's this?" I said loud enough for the whole room. "Color-coded? You do realize this isn't kindergarten, right?"
A few chuckles. Rain reached for the notebook, wide-eyed, panicked.
I held it higher. Out of reach.
"You trying to impress someone, Wang?" I added, flipping through the pages. "Or is this how you study in whatever back-alley high school you crawled out of?"
Her lips parted. She looked like she was going to speak. To defend herself.
So I took one final shot.
"I'd be embarrassed too, if I came here looking like a mythology prop. Is that hair supposed to distract us from your GPA?"
Laughter. Real laughter this time. Loud. Sharp. Ugly.
Her eyes glistened. But she didn't cry.
She just reached up, slowly, and took the notebook from my hands like I'd slapped her.
The library watched. Everyone watched. And no one stopped me.
That was the worst part.
Because I wanted someone to stop me.
I wanted her to snap back, to curse me out, to glare at me like I was scum. But she just stood there, smaller than ever, hugging that notebook like it was armor.
And I hated her for it.
I hated how quiet she was. How still. How perfect.
Because I wanted her to break.
Because I couldn't figure out why the hell I wanted her so much.
So I kept pushing. Kept bullying. Kept pretending it wasn't obsession.
Kept pretending I wasn't already drowning in her.