It was finally happening.
Graduation was creeping up on them, a bittersweet mix of excitement and dread hanging in the air. Anastasia and Bastian had spent months dreaming about their future, planning every little detail, and now, they were here—touring the campus that would become their next home.
Anastasia was practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she took everything in. The ivy-covered buildings, the massive library, the bustling students—it was perfect. She grabbed Bastian's hand, squeezing it tight.
"This is it," she breathed, spinning around like a kid in a toy store. "I can feel it, Bass. This is where we belong."
Bastian chuckled, watching her with pure adoration. "You look like you're about to combust."
"Shut up!" She smacked his arm, laughing. "I just—this place feels like our future, y'know?"
He did know. And damn if he wasn't just as excited. But that excitement? Yeah, it evaporated the second Dylan Fischer strutted up to them.
Dylan, their assigned tour guide, looked like he walked straight out of a damn magazine. Tall, lean, all effortless confidence and easy charm. His dark brown hair was casually styled, giving off that "I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-looking-this-good" vibe, and those hazel eyes? They practically smirked on their own.
"Wow," Dylan whistled as he approached. "Looks like we're getting some real eye candy this year."
Bastian stiffened. His grip on Anastasia's hand tightened just a little.
Dylan grinned, flashing Anastasia a dazzling smile before taking her hand and—oh hell no—kissing it.
Bastian's entire body went rigid.
Anastasia's cheeks turned a ridiculous shade of red, and Bastian could feel the smug satisfaction radiating off this guy like heat from a damn furnace.
"You two must be Anastasia and Bastian." Dylan smirked, finally letting go of her hand—though he was taking his damn time about it. "Lovely to meet you both."
Lovely, my ass.
Dylan turned his attention back to Anastasia, giving her an approving once-over. "Man, you are going to be such a distraction for my team. You absolutely cannot come to our matches."
Bastian barely heard Anastasia's amused response. His pulse was pounding in his ears. This guy. This fucking guy. He knew his type. The charming, cocky, heartbreaker who knew exactly what to say to make girls swoon. And he was saying all the right things to Anastasia right now.
Bastian clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. 'She's mine,' he thought furiously. 'This prick has no idea who he's messing with.'
"So," Dylan continued, all easy confidence, "are you guys starting this year or next? If it's this year, I could really help you two settle in." He shot Anastasia a grin. "I mean, mostly you, Ana. I'm sure you'd appreciate that."
Bastian's temper snapped.
"We're still looking at our options," he said flatly, cutting Dylan off before Anastasia could answer.
Anastasia frowned, confused. "Bass, what? We decided—"
"No," Bastian interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. "We haven't decided on anything yet, Anastasia."
Her eyes widened.
Anastasia. Not Ana. Not Babe. Not Nasa.
Anastasia.
He never called her that unless something was really, really wrong.
A tense silence settled between them. Dylan, the absolute bastard, just stood there, watching, enjoying every second of it.
"We are leaving!" With scarcely controllable rage in his voice, Bastian declared in a quiet voice.
"Bastian Dean Webber!" Anastasia shot back clearly defying him by addressing him by name. "You don't tell me what to do just because we're dating. I would like to see this university further—we haven't even reached the courtyard yet!" There was a trace of dread in her eyes, despite her rage. She was uneasy since she had never seen Bastian so enraged, but she was not going to back down.
"Anyway," Dylan continued, clearly unfazed, "Ana, why don't you give me your number? I can send you all the student perks and maybe—"
"You're done."
Bastian's voice was low. Dangerous.
Dylan blinked. "Huh?"
"I said, you're done." Bastian stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Stop flirting with my girlfriend or I'll smash your fucking face in."
Dylan smirked, hands casually slipping into his pockets. "Whoa, relax, man. No need to get all territorial. I was just being friendly."
Friendly.
Bastian's blood boiled.
Anastasia saw it happening—saw the moment Bastian was about to snap—and quickly stepped between them, pressing her hands against his chest. "Babe, please," she whispered. "Let's just go home, okay?"
Her touch was enough to anchor him, but just barely. His chest heaved, his body still shaking with the effort to hold himself back. He let her pull him away, though his eyes stayed locked on Dylan's smug, taunting face.
This wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
The car ride home was suffocating. Bastian's hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Anastasia stole nervous glances at him, but he refused to look at her. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, unresolved emotions.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"Talk to me," she whispered. "Please."
Silence.
"You never act like this," she continued, voice trembling. "We always talk things out. What is going on?"
Bastian exhaled sharply, fingers flexing on the wheel. "What's going on," he muttered, "is that some asshole just openly hit on my girlfriend in front of me, and you—you—" He stopped, jaw clenching.
"You didn't stop him."
Anastasia's breath hitched. "Bastian, I—"
The tires screeched as Bastian suddenly swerved to the side of the road, slamming the car into park. He turned to her, his stormy blue eyes ablaze with something raw.
"You let him touch you." His voice was hoarse, broken. "You let him kiss your hand. You let him call you Ana like—like he fucking knew you."
Anastasia's eyes welled with tears. "I didn't think—"
"No, you didn't." His voice cracked. "Because if you had, you'd know how much that killed me."
Silence.
The weight of his words crushed her, pressing into her chest like a vice.
And then, without another word, Bastian shoved the door open and stepped out into the night, slamming it shut behind him.
Anastasia sat there, breathless, staring at the empty space he left behind, her heart pounding in her ears.
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She unbuckled her seatbelt with shaking hands and bolted out of the car, calling after him.
But he was already walking away, disappearing into the darkness.
And for the first time in their entire relationship, Anastasia was terrified.
Because she wasn't sure if he'd come back.