[Third Person View.]
Aron stormed out of Ren's room, the echo of the slamming door reverberating down the corridor. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a maelstrom of anger, jealousy, and confusion.
"Fucker," he cursed under his breath, his fists clenched at his sides. The memory of Ren's smug expression as he discussed Cecelia churned his stomach. The thought of Ren even daring to entertain the idea of being with Cecelia made Aron's blood boil. But amidst the seething rage, a sliver of relief pierced through the turmoil—Ren's indifference towards Cecelia was evident, a small consolation in the storm of emotions.
Lost in his thoughts, Aron barely registered the collision until he felt someone bump into him. "Hey, what the FUCK!" he snapped, his anger flaring as he turned to confront the culprit.
