Rain Wang's POVSecond Year
It was colder this year. Or maybe I just noticed it more.
I walked past the courtyard like always—books clutched to my chest, white coat sharp against my frame, hair braided tightly down my back like a memory I refused to let go of. I didn't wear lip gloss anymore. I barely smiled.
But I was still at the top of the class.
I always had been. Not because I tried too hard—but because medicine made sense when people didn't. Biology didn't lie. Cells didn't whisper behind your back. Anatomy didn't laugh when you cried.
I aced everything.
Even when my hands shook.
Even when the room laughed.
Even when he watched.
Because he still did. I felt it before I ever saw him.
Sebastian Ashford—third year now. Still the golden boy. Still brilliant. Still magnetic. But something had changed.
He didn't speak to me anymore.
He didn't laugh when I tripped or murmur things under his breath when I walked past.
He just… looked.
Like he wanted to say something.
Like he remembered that night on the rooftop.
Like he regretted everything.
But regret didn't undo bruises. It didn't unmake the fear. And it didn't stop people from looking at me like I was the girl who used to cry in class.
So I walked past him like I didn't notice.
I sat at the front of the combined seminar, answering every question like a machine. I buried myself in cadaver notes. My hands stayed steady in practicals. Professors smiled at me like I was hope stitched into a lab coat.
But I wasn't. I was survival wrapped in silence.
And he kept watching.
That day, I caught him in the mirror as I washed my hands in the lab. Just a glimpse—his reflection standing still at the door, eyes heavy, unreadable.
I didn't flinch.
I just dried my hands and walked out.
Because now—I didn't run. Not anymore.
But God, some part of me still trembled when he looked at me like that.
Like he wanted to fix what he broke.
But I wasn't sure I'd ever let him.