I got out and caught my reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes. Like I’d been fighting in my sleep. For someone with class in under thirty minutes, I was really taking my time.
I grabbed a towel, padded back to my room, and threw on something loose but decent — something I could sprint in if it came to that.
By the time I stepped into the kitchen, bag slung over one shoulder and presentation papers in hand, the kitchen was now spotless. Emma slid a mug toward me without a word.
"Want coffee?" she asked, like it wasn’t obvious.
I nodded, took a few sips. Burned my tongue a little. Glanced at my watch. 07:45. Five minutes, then I’d have to run.
Emma didn’t drink hers. Just stared into it like it held answers.
"You’re going to be fine," I said, eyes on my papers, trying to commit at least a few phrases to memory.
"Huh?" she blinked.
"With your parents. You’ll be fine," I said again, more certain this time.
She frowned slightly. "How did you know I was thinking about that?"
Truth? I didn’t. Not exactly. But lately, something in me had shifted — like my brain was running on overdrive, picking up things I wasn’t supposed to. Or maybe I’d just been paying more attention than I realized.
"Emma, I’ve been living with you for two months. I know you."
I said it flatly, but my voice softened near the end — unintentionally.
She blinked slowly, like the words reached her through water. Still cradling the coffee like it might offer answers if she stared hard enough. Her nail polish was chipped again. Midnight blue. Probably from all the nervous picking she’d been doing.
"You think they're gonna hate everything about me, huh?" she muttered, more to the rim of her cup than to me. "The clothes, the hair, the fact that I don’t walk like a wife-in-training anymore."
I slid the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, grabbing a piece of toast that wasn’t mine but figured she wouldn’t care.
"You know what I think?" I said, chewing, "I think you already hate them enough for the both of you. So whatever they bring — guilt trips, criticism, Bible verses — it won’t land the way it used to."
She looked up then. Her eyes had that glassy sheen like she hadn’t blinked in too long. "That’s… kinda dark."
"That’s kinda true."
A pause stretched between us, awkward but familiar. I glanced again at my watch. 07:50. Shit. I’d need to sprint and charm the professor.
"You're going to be fine," I said again, quieter now. "And if you’re not, you’ll fake it. Like always."
That earned a crooked smile from her, the kind that said she didn’t believe me — but wanted to.
"You’re really bad at comforting people, you know that?"
"Yeah," I nodded, already walking toward the door. "But I’m great at surviving bullshit. Which you are about to need in bulk, so..."
She laughed. A low, tired sound. And just as I reached the handle, she called out, "Hey, Zara?"
I turned halfway, my paper nearly falling out of the folder.
"Kill that presentation, would you?" she said, lifting her cup in a mock toast, eyes still glassy.
I gave a half-smile — the kind that didn’t touch anything but my mouth.
"Planning to," I said.
I didn’t tell her my hands were already sweating through the paper. Or that I’d barely slept. Or that half the words on those slides still felt like a foreign language this morning.
Instead, I gave her a quick salute with my folder and slipped out, letting the door click quietly behind me.
The hallway smelled like burnt toast and someone’s perfume — floral, suffocating, too early in the day. I shoved my earphones in, not for music, just to block the world out. Left foot, right foot. Don’t think. Don’t spiral. Just get through the day.
I took the stairs two at a time.
Because sometimes confidence isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s just the decision not to run back.
My pace quickened — not because I was excited to get there, but because I hated walking into a room full of people already seated. I could feel the sweat sticking to my lower back, my thighs. Gross. By the time I reached the door, the class was packed. Low muttering buzzed around, heads turned like vultures the second I walked in. Of course.
This was why I hated being late. Everyone suddenly acts like you murdered their silence.
I probably looked like hell, too — hair frizzed at the edges, shirt clinging to my spine, folder in one hand and insecurity choking the other. I looked confident, sure. But that was just my default armor. The real me? She was crawling beneath the surface, too aware of every stare, every judgment.
Someone nearby mentioned they hadn’t even memorized their presentation and were just gonna wing it. I don’t even know how I heard that — maybe they were just loud, or maybe my senses were locked in and dialed too high, like I’d been running on panic fumes since morning.
Kai gave me a small wave from the third row — subtle, like she knew I'd rather die than clomp my way up to the back. I slid into the seat next to her, finally exhaling.
“Tried reaching you last night,” she said under her breath, eyes flicking over my face. “You okay? You look like someone chewed you up and spit you out.”
I gave a weak smile. I’d packed on concealer, brushed on powder, dabbed anything that could blur what a trainwreck my face had become. But I guess pain always finds a way to seep through.
“My phone died,” I lied. “But I’m fine.”
She didn’t push it. Just nodded, eyes scanning forward. I flipped through the pages like I actually knew what I was doing.
Axel walked in after, smelling like some kind of cologne that lingered — sharp and woody, like sin wrapped in a bottle. He dropped into the front row, spun around with that lazy, cocky smirk and looked straight at us.
“Hey, babe,” he said to Kai. Then his eyes landed on me. “Hey, Zara.”
“Hey,” I muttered, giving him a half-smile. He always said my name like he was tasting it. I didn’t like that.
Kai and Axel were a thing — not officially, not with labels, but it was obvious. Maybe fuck buddies. Maybe more. I didn’t ask. She didn’t tell. All I knew was that somehow, the universe thought it would be hilarious to group the three of us together — me, the chaos couple, and this godforsaken presentation.
I’d only really gotten to know them last week, even though we’d been in the same class for two months. Kai, with her soft but sly kind of pretty — warm brunette hair, honey-brown eyes, voice like she always knew something you didn’t. Axel? He was every girl’s favorite mistake. Tousled hair, dimples, a body sculpted by genes and gym reps, probably both. He had that dangerous charisma. Like a guy who would kiss you just to shut you up — and it would work.
“So,” Axel said, turning more fully now, “are my teammates ready to dazzle the room?”
“Yep,” Kai replied coolly.
“Yeah,” I said, low, like my voice was crawling back into my chest.
He grinned, stretched, and leaned back like he hadn’t just walked in five minutes late. I watched the veins shift along his forearms. The nerves in my stomach twisted — not because I wanted him, but because I didn’t want him to notice that I noticed anything.
I opened my folder again, eyes pretending to focus.
God, I needed to get through this.
“Group three,” the lecturer called, finally stopping after twenty minutes of aimless pacing with her coffee — like she needed a caffeine IV just to tolerate the shaky voices, sweaty palms, and academic panic attacks unfolding at the front. She barely looked up as she scanned her clipboard. “Zara Smith, Kai Cloete, and Axel Reid. You’re up.”
A pause. Then a smirk. “Let’s hope you’re ready.”
A few snickers followed, but I didn’t flinch. Just grabbed my folder and stood. Kai rose beside me like it was nothing, all grace and chill, while Axel moved like he had all the time in the world. Of course he did. Men like him never felt rushed. The world waited for them.
We walked up to the front — a weird parade of energy. Me: tightly coiled. Kai: composed. Axel: cocky bastard incarnate.
The projector screen blinked awake behind us. I tapped the laptop. It cooperated for once. Our title popped up — “Behavioral Conditioning and Primal Instinct: Modern Reflections.”
“Okay,” I started, voice firm. Not too loud, not too fast. Just enough to own it. “We chose to explore the overlap between behavioral psychology and primal instinct — how conditioning interacts with more instinctive drives, especially in conflict or high-stress scenarios.”
I could feel it: the shift in the room. Heads tilted. Pens stilled. Even the people on their phones looked up.
Good.
Kai stepped in seamlessly, her voice soft but precise. “We used two case studies — one from a psychological experiment and one from a real-world crisis. Both showed how instinct often overpowers conditioning when the stakes become life-or-death.”
Axel took over, his tone way too casual — but damn it, it worked. “Basically, people are civilized until they’re not. You can train a person to follow rules, but if they feel cornered, humiliated, or threatened — boom — the animal shows up.”
He paused, smiling faintly. “We brought snacks for thought.”
A few people laughed. Not me. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I had to admit, he could hold a room. Even the lecturer looked intrigued, which was rare. Usually, she sat there like we were all wasting her time.
We moved through the slides — me handling the research framework, Kai the methodology, Axel the analysis. The final slide came faster than I expected. I should’ve felt relief. But I didn’t. I felt…
Watched.
When I turned slightly, I caught Axel looking at me — not in a creepy way, not even flirty. Just watching. Like he was reading something behind my voice. Behind my skin.
I looked away before it could become something. Finished strong.
“In conclusion, we found that human instinct doesn’t disappear with socialization — it just sleeps. And under pressure, it wakes up. Violent. Hungry. Real.”
Silence. Then claps — not loud, but definite. Our lecturer nodded once, scribbled something, then said, “Well-structured. Relevant. And… surprisingly provocative. Good work.”
We returned to our seats. I dropped into mine and leaned forward, adjusting my papers like it mattered. Kai brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes still shining from the adrenaline. Axel stretched out next to her, casually bumping her foot with his under the desk — a barely-there move, but she smiled like it was code.
I caught it. Of course I did. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was real.
That kind of intimacy didn’t need grand gestures. It just existed.
“Nice work,” Axel said lowly, glancing my way. Not flirty. Just respectful. “Tight delivery.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. “You too.”
That was it. No weird tension. No extra meaning behind the words. Just three people who pulled off a clean presentation — and two of them who clearly had something more.
Still, as I looked at them — Kai’s fingers now idly tracing circles on the side of Axel’s notebook — I felt a strange pinch beneath the ribs. Not envy. Not exactly. Just that quiet reminder that I was always the third person in the frame. Sharp, capable, invisible.
Always the clean cut between two people who already made sense.
“I was thinking we could finish the remaining assignment this week — maybe late afternoons after class,” Kai said, eyes flicking between both of us.
“Why not start tomorrow?” she added, that familiar spark lighting up her gaze as she looked at Axel and me.
“Tomorrow sounds good,” Axel said, but then hesitated. “Except I’ve got something I need to handle. Can I skip just tomorrow?”
Kai’s eyes locked with his, and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment — like a silent conversation only couples know how to have. No words needed. Just that slow, electric exchange of everything and nothing.
Then she turned to me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “So, it’s just you and me then. Your place or mine?”
My mind raced. Emma would be there. Who knew what mess or random guy she’d drag in? My place? Not exactly a sanctuary. Definitely not the kind of quiet space we needed.
“I don’t think my place is the best idea — we wouldn’t get anything done. And yours… well, I don’t have a ride back. Can we just do it at the library?”
Kai rolled her eyes but smiled warmly. “The library closes too early. At home, we can stretch the hours. And don’t worry about the ride — I’ll personally make sure you get home every night.”
Her hand brushed my shoulder, light but reassuring.
“Okay, sure,” I said, exhaling.
“That’s settled then,” Axel chirped, sounding a little too eager.
Kai shot him a sharp look, lips curling with amused warning. “You’re not off the hook. I expect you there the day after tomorrow. No excuses.”
He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t dare disappoint you.”
The rest of the day blurred into back-to-back lectures — notes to scribble, questions half-asked, the dull drone of professors I barely heard. The last lecture finally wrapped up, the professor’s closing remarks fading as students shuffled out, chatting about weekend plans and upcoming assignments. I gathered my things slowly, the weight of the presentation still lingering in my chest.
By the time class ended, it was already lunchtime. Instead of heading back to the dorm, I decided to go straight to the coffee shop. No detours, no distractions — I needed to get there early, mentally brace myself for the late shift ahead.
The streets buzzed with the usual midday rush — people hustling between meetings and errands — but my mind was elsewhere. I kept my head down, clutching my bag tighter as I weaved through the crowd.
When I stepped through the coffee shop doors, the familiar aroma of espresso and warm pastries hit me like a balm. It was chaotic, noisy, and exactly what I needed to ground the day.
The coffee was shit — same burnt beans, same regulars acting like caffeine gave their lives meaning. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. I clocked out late, the noise of the shop still ringing in my ears as I shoved through the door into the cold. Exhaustion clung to me like smoke, heavy and inescapable. My mind was already spiraling — that damn assignment still undone, tomorrow’s long shift already waiting to chew me up all over again.
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