Liam's P.O.V.
The next day started out… weirdly good. Too good, in fact.
I walked into school, bracing myself for the usual lineup of high school horror: snickers, whispered insults, and—if I was really lucky—another "accidental" shoelace-related faceplant, courtesy of Philip and his gang.
But there was nothing.
No cruel laughter. No mocking glances. No one even acknowledged my existence.
Philip and his crew? They didn't so much as glance in my direction. No smirks, no hushed insults, not even a passive-aggressive shove.
They avoided me like I was radioactive.
Even Mai Blackwood—who had practically made a career out of tormenting me—walked past without her usual sneer. No sarcastic remark. No smug grin. Just… nothing.
Which, coming from Mai, was the nicest thing she'd ever done for me.
I wasn't sure if I should feel relieved or deeply, deeply concerned.
