For a moment, I stared into my own eyes, trying to see what Ma claimed to see.
A strong, kind, and handsome young man.
But all I saw was someone desperately trying to hold it together.
Yes...That was it.
***
Back to the present, my polished boots clicked against the cobblestones, pulling me back to the colourful streets of the city. Vendors shouted from their stalls, their voices a symphony of persuasion:
"Fresh apples, ripe and sweet! Straight from the orchards of Norhaven!"
"Jewelry for the discerning noble! Handcrafted silver and gold!"
Children darted between legs, laughing as they chased each other in a game only they understood. A music artist played a cheerful tune on his lute, his music weaving through the chatter and clamour.
It was a scene I'd walked through countless times, yet today, it felt different. Perhaps it was the suit. Perhaps it was Ma's words still echoing in my mind.
Or perhaps it was the fact that, despite everything, I was giving life another chance—one reluctant step at a time.
Yes. I had to do this, for Ma if not for me.
As I passed a bakery, the aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafted out, momentarily lifting my spirits.
It reminded me of the pastries Ma would sneak me when I was younger, back when the world felt a little less cruel. The memory made my lips twitch into a small smile before the weight of reality pulled it away.
The streets grew quieter as I moved closer to the academy. The towering stone building loomed in the distance, its arched windows and intricate carvings a testament to the wealth and status it held.
This was a private school meant for the nobles. Yes, only the nobles.
I may look like a run-down copy of all they held but in reality, It did not matter to me. Nobles or the commoners, were both the same to me. Each driven by their separate needs.
And the Romero Clan—a history I was a part of? They were the same, all selfish bastards I say-
My fingers brushed against the cuff of my jacket, the fine fabric reminding me of the expectations I'd never quite met.
A group of students passed by, their laughter ringing out as they shared stories of their plans after high school.
They didn't notice me, and I didn't try to join them. I'd grown used to being invisible, a shadow in the lives of others.
But today, dressed like this, walking these streets, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—I could be something more.
The academy gates came into view, grand and imposing. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
The world around me continued its chaotic dance, oblivious to the storm inside me.
"Alright, Noah," I muttered under my breath, adjusting the lapels of my jacket. "Let's see if Ma's right. Let's see if there's something worth staying for."
With that, I stepped forward, the echoes of my polished boots carrying me closer to a farewell I wasn't sure I was ready to face.
***
Lyla's POV
The grand hall gleamed with the golden light from chandeliers, casting a warm glow over all of us. Soft music from a corner mingled with the gentle hum of our conversations.
I could practically smell the aromatic dishes—roasted meats, seasoned vegetables, etc. Wine fountains bubbled, filling crystal glasses we laughed, sneaking sips with playful glances at each other.
Adjusting the hem of my gown, the soft fabric shimmering faintly in the light. It was a shade of pale lavender, with silver embroidery that glinted like starlight.
My mother had insisted it was perfect for the occasion, though I found it a little too extravagant for my taste. Still, appearances mattered in these circles, and I knew better than to argue.
"Lady Lyla, you look radiant tonight," a smooth voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see Cedric, a boy from my class, bowing slightly as he offered his hand. His blond hair was neatly combed, and his smile was practiced to perfection.
"Thank you, Cedric," I replied with a polite smile, ignoring his extended hand. "You're too kind."
He hesitated for a moment, his smile faltering, before recovering. "Will you honour me with a dance later?"
"Perhaps," I said noncommittally, knowing full well I had no intention of doing so. He was persistent, but I'd learned how to navigate these interactions without offending. Cedric bowed again and drifted away, no doubt to try his luck with another girl.
As I watched him go, my gaze wandered across the hall. Groups of students stood together, their laughter and chatter filling the spaces between the music. Some were gathered near the food, others danced gracefully in the centre of the room.
And then there was Noah.
He'd entered quietly, almost unnoticed, slipping into the hall like a shadow. His ink-black hair caught the light as he moved, but his eyes remained downcast, avoiding the curious stares of our peers.
He was dressed impeccably in a black and blue suit that fit him perfectly, the tailored fabric accentuating his tall, lean frame. He adjusted his tie absently, a small gesture that betrayed his unease.
No one approached him. Not a single person. He lingered near the edge of the room, away from the laughter and the music, a solitary figure in a sea of revelry. My chest tightened as I watched him, a flicker of guilt stirring within me.
Noah D. Romero. A noble in name, but an orphan in reality. His clan had all but disowned him, treating him as an outcast despite his lineage. The rumours were relentless—whispers of his "weak constitution" and his struggles to assimilate the hollow within him.
They said he was cursed, unworthy of his family's name. And while I didn't believe in such superstitions, I couldn't deny the effect they had on him.
He'd been a quiet boy for as long as I could remember, keeping to himself and rarely speaking unless spoken to. It wasn't that he lacked intelligence or charm; in fact, he had an understated elegance that some might even find intriguing.
But his isolation had made him a target. His so-called friends didn't just tease him; they bullied him mercilessly, hiding their cruelty behind polite smiles and hollow laughter.
"Taking care of him." That's what they called it. As if their actions were some twisted form of tough love, a way to "toughen him up." It was disgusting. But I… I… didn't intervene.
I'd convinced myself it wasn't my place, that getting involved would only make things worse for him. After all, what could I do? I was just another classmate, another noble trapped in the rigid hierarchies of our world.
I bit my lip, my fingers curling around the stem of my glass. Watching him now, standing there alone, I felt a pang of sympathy. His situation was tragic, yes.
Losing his parents, being ostracized by his own family, enduring the constant ridicule of our peers… it was more than anyone should have to bear. But that was the gist of it, wasn't it? Tragic, but not my problem.
I straightened my shoulders, resolving to maintain my distance. It wasn't just for my sake; it was for his. If I got too close, if I gave him any reason to hope for something more, it would only end badly.
The last thing he needed was to be publicly humiliated for daring to think he could court someone like me. I… I couldn't do that to him.
And yet…
My gaze drifted back to him. He was standing near one of the wine fountains now, his hands clasped behind his back.
His expression was neutral, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a subtle tension that betrayed his discomfort. He'd noticed the stares, the whispers. Of course he had. How could he not?
I sighed, swirling the wine in my glass. What was it about him that made it so hard to look away? It wasn't attraction, I was sure of that. It was something else.
Pity, perhaps. Or maybe a sense of shared loneliness. Despite the crowd around me, I often felt like an outsider too, playing a part in a world that didn't quite feel like mine.
"Lady Lyla," another voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I turned to see Everett, a boy with a sharp jawline and an overly confident grin. "May I have the honour of this dance?"
I forced a smile, nodding politely. "Of course, Everett."
As he led me to the dance floor, I cast one last glance at Noah. He hadn't moved, his solitude untouched by the festive chaos around him.
My heart ached slightly, but I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the rhythm of the music and the steps of the dance.
It wasn't my place to save him. And even if it were, I wasn't sure he wanted to be saved.
***