Mira sat quietly at her desk, pulling out a handkerchief to dab her face as discreetly as she could. Her shoulders were tense, her gaze fixed downward.
Atlas, seated just ahead of her, could feel the storm of frustration boiling inside him. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
Damn it… this is her past, isn't it?
The realization only added to his frustration. He couldn't intervene, couldn't change anything. He could only watch.
And this, this was only the beginning. The very opening of her memories was already steeped in pain and pressure. It started with her damn parents, people who should've protected her. Instead, they burdened her with expectations and left her to face everything alone.
Then came the bullying, delivered by the very classmates who should have been her peers. And for what?
Was it because she was too good in class? Because they were jealous of her?
