Page 2 of Wraith

I managed a weak smile and sat down across from her. “Something like that,” I said, keeping my answer vague. Jenna knew about the tension between me and the guys—she’d heard enough snide comments in passing—but she didn’t know the full story. No one did.

She rolled her eyes as she sipped her tea. “Let me guess. Those assholes again?”

“It’s not…” I hesitated, sighing. “It’s complicated.”

Jenna snorted. “They’re not complicated. They’re just overgrown boys with superiority complexes. Why do you even let them get to you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, stirring my coffee absently. “It’s not like I want to. I just… feel stuck. Like I can’t get away from it.”

Jenna leaned forward, her expression softening. “Look, Lily, I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t let them live in your head rent-free. You’re here to get your degree, not to let a bunch of losers screw with your head.”

Her bluntness made me smile, just a little. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard.”

“Of course it’s hard. They suck.” She grinned, her teasing tone making me smile even more as I relaxed into my seat. “But you don’t. Remember that.”

For a while, we talked about lighter things—midterms, our professor’s hilariously monotone lectures, and the chaos of group projects. Jenna’s laughter was contagious, and for a brief moment, it felt like the weight on my chest was just a little bit lighter.

But as the café started to close and the crowd thinned out, reality crept back in. The laughter faded, the warmth dimmed, and the quiet left space for the doubts and loneliness to return.

Jenna gave me a hug before she left, promising to send me her notes from today’s class. “You’ve got this,” she said with a wink. “Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Jenna,” I said, managing a real smile. “You’re the best.”

Walking back to my dorm alone, I felt the familiar ache settle in again. The snippets of laughter and conversation I overheard from passing groups of students felt like echoes from a world I couldn’t reach, a reminder of everything I felt I was missing.

By the time I reached my room, the silence felt almost unbearable. The walls seemed to close in, amplifying the loneliness I’d been trying to push away all day. I dropped my bag on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing.

I grabbed my journal from the desk, flipping to an empty page. Writing had always been my escape, a way to make sense of the chaos in my head. But now, the words wouldn’t come. My pen hovered above the paper, trembling with the weight of everything I couldn’t put into words.

What was I even trying to say? That I felt invisible? That I was tired of trying to fit into a world that seemed determined to keep me on the outside? That the ache of wanting to belong never went away, no matter how much I tried to ignore it?

The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. It made everything look peaceful, serene, in a way that mocked the storm raging inside me. I wanted to scream, to shatter the quiet, to do something—anything—that would make the world feel less empty.

Instead, I curled up on my bed, clutching the journal to my chest like it might hold me together. The clock on my nightstand ticked steadily, each second dragging into the next, until the hours blurred and sleep finally claimed me.

But even in my dreams, the feeling of isolation followed. It was always there, waiting for me, no matter where I went or how far I tried to run.

Two

I tooka deep breath as I approached the quad where my mates often gathered. Just seeing them from afar made my heart clench with a painful mix of longing and hurt. Every step closer felt like willingly walking into a storm. But avoiding them entirely would make it seem like I was running away, and I couldn’t let them have that power.

Lucian’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking. “Well, if it isn’t little Lily. Come to beg for our attention again?”

I kept my eyes down, pretending not to hear him. Maybe if I kept walking, he’d let it go.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” His tone hardened as his hand closed around my arm, halting me mid-step. The heat of his touch burned through the sleeve of my jacket, sending an involuntary jolt through me.

“Lucian, that’s enough.” Ciaran’s voice came from somewhere behind him, calm and even, but firm. “Let her go.”

Lucian scoffed but let me go with an exaggerated flourish, his smirk twisting into something meaner. “You’re always playingthe hero, aren’t you?” His eyes darted back, gleaming with malice. “Don’t mistake his soft heart for actual sympathy, Lily.”

My gaze flicked to Ciaran, searching his face for some kind of clue. Did he pity me? Did he care at all? The sharp edge of Lucian’s words said no, but something about the way Ciaran glanced at me—quick and reluctant—made my chest tighten.

“Just leave her alone, Lucian,” Ciaran said, his voice quieter now, like he wanted to avoid making a scene.

“She doesn’t need sympathy,” Lucian said, his smirk returning as he motioned toward the others. “She needs a reality check.”

“She needs to beignored,” Ciaran shot back, his gaze hardening. “So why don’t we all just do that?”

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