The classroom was unusually quiet.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting soft rectangles across the desks. The notorious class—usually loud, chaotic, and untouchable—was calm, as if everyone sensed something unspoken lingering in the air.
She sat by the window, chin resting on her hand, eyes unfocused as she stared outside.
Lucien Cross noticed immediately.
He always did.
From the moment she transferred into the class, she had become the one thing that disrupted his perfect control. Not in a bad way—but in a way that made him feel human.
He turned slightly in his seat, lowering his voice.
"Are you avoiding me again?"
She blinked, then looked at him, lips curving into a small smile.
"Am I?"
"Yes," he replied calmly. "You've been doing it since this morning."
She sighed, finally turning her body toward him. "You're too observant."
"That's because you matter," Lucien said, his tone steady but sincere.
Her heart skipped. He said things like that so easily—as if caring was natural to him, as if affection wasn't something to hide.
She looked away again. "Lucien… do you ever feel like things are moving too fast?"
The question hung between them.
Lucien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, eyes thoughtful.
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But I don't regret it."
She glanced at him, surprised.
"I know we come from… complicated families," he continued. "And we're both walking paths people expect us to follow. But when I'm with you, it doesn't feel rushed. It feels right."
Her fingers tightened around her pen.
No one had ever spoken to her like that—not her fans, not the media, not even the people who claimed to know her best.
"You know," she said softly, "everyone thinks they know who I am. The idol. The heiress. The girl with everything."
She paused. "But they don't see the pressure. The expectations."
Lucien's gaze softened.
"I see you."
That simple sentence nearly broke her composure.
Before she could respond, the classroom door opened, and a few classmates returned noisily from the hallway. The moment shattered, but the feeling remained.
Later that afternoon, the two of them walked side by side through the school grounds. The breeze rustled the trees, petals drifting lazily to the ground.
"You're quiet again," Lucien said, glancing at her.
She smiled faintly. "Thinking."
"About?"
"About the future."
He stopped walking.
She noticed and turned to face him. Lucien stood there, hands in his pockets, expression serious but calm.
"Whatever you're worried about," he said, "you don't have to face it alone."
She hesitated, then spoke honestly.
"My life isn't simple, Lucien. There will be times when I can't explain everything. Times when I'll have to disappear. Work. Family. Responsibilities."
"I know," he replied without hesitation. "I'm not asking for all of you. Just the part you're willing to give."
Her eyes widened slightly.
That was when she realized something important.
Lucien Cross wasn't trying to cage her.
He wasn't trying to control her world.
He was choosing to stand beside her in it.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Then promise me something."
He met her gaze. "Anything."
"Promise you won't lose yourself for me. And I won't lose myself for you."
Lucien smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened his sharp features.
"I promise."
They didn't need to hold hands.
They didn't need grand gestures.
That promise was enough.
As they continued walking, unaware eyes followed them from a distance. Whispers would spread. Rumors always did.
But for once, neither of them cared.
Because some bonds weren't built on attention or obsession—
They were built on understanding.
And that was far more dangerous than love at first sight.