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EPISODE 3 — Echoes After Midnight
(Layla's POV)
Morning light had a way of revealing what the night tried to hide.
The glitter that had looked magical under Avalon High's chandeliers now clung stubbornly to my pillow. The silver gown that made me feel invincible hung lifelessly on the back of my chair, dull in the quiet sunlight.
I lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if last night had really happened.
If Ethan Marshall had really found me on the balcony.
If he had really said my name like that—soft, deliberate, and dangerous.
"Goodnight, Layla."
The words echoed in my mind, threaded with something I couldn't name.
For someone like Ethan, goodnight could mean anything.
A beginning.
An ending.
A game.
But he didn't kiss me.
And somehow, that made it worse.
---
By the time I got downstairs, Mom was already at the dining table with her tablet, glasses perched on her nose. She didn't look up when she said, "You came in late."
"It was prom night, Mom. Everyone stayed a little longer."
Her gaze flicked up, skeptical. "Everyone? Or just you?"
I rolled my eyes and poured myself coffee. "You know, you could at least pretend to trust me."
"I do trust you," she said evenly. "It's everyone else I don't."
Translation: Ethan Marshall.
Mom wasn't blind to his reputation. Everyone in Avalon knew the Marshalls — wealth, rumors, charm. The kind of family that could turn headlines into whispers and whispers into silence.
And Ethan… he was their crown jewel of trouble.
"Are you done with breakfast?" she asked, already scanning her schedule. "We need to start sorting your university forms. Avalon University confirmed their acceptance list last night."
That snapped me out of my haze. "Wait — it's out?"
She nodded, smiling faintly. "Check your email."
My heart raced as I fumbled for my phone. Notifications blurred until I found it: 'Congratulations, Layla Hart!'
I got in.
I couldn't stop the grin that broke across my face. "I got in!"
Mom looked up, softer now. "I knew you would."
For a second, the house felt lighter. The noise of the world faded, replaced by the quiet hum of something new — hope, maybe.
But underneath it, another thought stirred.
Would Ethan be there too?
---
Two days later, Avalon High held its final graduation rehearsal.
Chloe and I met at the bleachers, both half-asleep but trying to pretend we weren't emotional wrecks.
"Can you believe this is the last time we're doing this?" she said, adjusting her sash.
"Part of me still thinks it's all a dream," I admitted.
"Same. Except I don't think I'll miss Principal Harris yelling at us to 'walk with pride.'"
I laughed, then caught sight of him across the field.
Ethan.
He was talking to Mr. Bennett, the student council advisor — which was weird, because Ethan didn't talk to teachers. He tolerated them. Yet there he was, posture relaxed, eyes alert, listening.
Chloe noticed my pause and followed my gaze. "Oh no. You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Pretending you're not watching him."
"I'm not."
She raised a brow. "Your eyes are literally burning holes through his back."
"Stop exaggerating."
"Uh-huh. Sure." She nudged me. "So, what happened on prom night? You disappeared for like twenty minutes, and when you came back, you looked like you'd just seen God—or committed a sin."
I tried not to smile. "Nothing happened."
Chloe's gasp was so loud a few students turned. "Don't tell me Ethan Marshall of all people decided to behave like a gentleman."
I gave her a look. "Why does that sound impossible to you?"
"Because it's Ethan," she said simply. "He flirts like it's his oxygen. If he didn't kiss you, he's either scared, planning something, or you've bewitched him."
"I prefer the bewitched theory," I said, deadpan.
We both burst out laughing, but the moment I looked back, he was watching me.
And this time, he didn't look away.
---
Graduation day came faster than I expected.
The auditorium buzzed with flash photography and parents crying softly into tissue packets. I clutched my diploma like it was proof I'd survived something monumental.
After the ceremony, I slipped out toward the parking lot, hoping for air. My heels pinched. My head spun.
Then I heard him again.
"You really like disappearing, don't you?"
I froze.
He was leaning against a car — sleek, black, and so clean it reflected the summer sky. He wasn't in his robe anymore, just a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and that lazy smirk that made my heart betray me.
"I wasn't disappearing," I said, walking closer. "Just… avoiding crowds."
"Funny. I was just about to say the same."
"Liar."
He laughed quietly. "You're learning."
There was something different in his eyes today — not the usual teasing glint, but something steadier.
"You got into Avalon University too, didn't you?" I asked.
He nodded once. "Yeah. My dad wouldn't let me go anywhere else. Keeps the family name close."
"Convenient," I murmured.
"For him or for you?"
"Depends."
He tilted his head. "On what?"
"On whether you plan to keep following me into every new chapter."
He smiled — slow, deliberate. "Maybe I already planned that."
I didn't know what to say to that.
He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "You looked different today."
"Different how?"
"Like you finally believe you're the main character."
I laughed softly. "Is that a compliment?"
"Depends. Are you taking it as one?"
"Maybe."
He looked at me for a long moment, then said quietly, "You'll do fine there. Avalon University's big, but you'll find your place."
I hesitated. "What about you?"
He gave a half-shrug. "I'll survive. I always do."
It wasn't an answer.
He started to walk away, but I called out, "Ethan?"
He turned.
"I never thanked you… for that night."
His expression shifted, softer now. "You don't have to."
"Maybe I want to."
"Then do it when you're ready," he said. "Not because you feel you should."
Then he got in his car, engine purring to life, and drove off.
---
The summer passed in snapshots — late-night packing, awkward family dinners, Chloe crying on video calls about missing me already.
But every so often, I'd see him online. A story post. A glimpse at a bonfire. His laugh in the background of someone else's video.
He didn't text. Neither did I.
But the space between us wasn't empty. It was charged.
By the time orientation week came around, I thought I'd buried the feeling.
I was wrong.
---
Avalon University sat on a hill overlooking the city — all red brick, glass walls, and ambition.
The first day was chaos. Dorms filled with shouting students, parents giving tearful goodbyes, flyers for clubs and societies flying everywhere.
Chloe and I found our dorm together, relief flooding us when we realized we were roommates.
"This is it," she said, flopping onto her bed. "No parents. No curfew. Just freedom."
"And ramen noodles for dinner," I said, grinning.
"Don't ruin it."
We spent the afternoon unpacking, setting up fairy lights, and pretending we weren't terrified. By evening, the campus buzzed with music from the Welcome Mixer — a night meant to make strangers into friends.
Chloe begged me to come, but I almost didn't. Crowds weren't my thing.
Still, something pulled me there.
Maybe it was curiosity.
Or maybe it was instinct.
Because the second I stepped into the courtyard, I saw him.
Ethan Marshall — leaning against the fountain like the night of prom was only yesterday.
Different shirt. Same energy.
And when his eyes found mine, the noise faded. Just like before.
He smiled faintly, like he'd been expecting me.
"Hey, Avalon girl."
My heart skipped. "You remembered."
"How could I forget?"
I stood there for a moment, unsure whether to walk closer or run.
Instead, I said, "You never told me what you're studying."
He smirked. "Business. My dad's choice. You?"
"Psychology."
"Ah," he said. "So you'll be analyzing me soon."
I arched a brow. "Already started."
He laughed — the kind of laugh that makes you forget why you were nervous.
But under the lights, I saw something else flicker across his face. A shadow. A thought he wasn't saying.
"You okay?" I asked.
He hesitated. "Yeah. Just… not used to seeing something that feels familiar."
"What do you mean?"
"You. This. Us talking again."
"Is that bad?"
He shook his head. "No. It's just... unexpected."
There was a pause, then he said quietly, "You know, I meant what I said back then."
"Which part?"
"That I don't play games."
I looked at him — really looked. The arrogance was still there, but beneath it was something raw, almost uncertain.
"Then prove it," I said softly.
His eyes met mine. "Maybe I will."
---
That night, as I walked back to my dorm, Chloe was waiting by the door, arms crossed and grin dangerous.
"You saw him, didn't you?"
I sighed. "You're psychic."
"I'm your best friend. That's close enough."
She threw herself onto her bed dramatically. "So? What did the devil himself say this time?"
"Nothing much," I lied.
"Liar."
I smiled to myself, whispering, "Maybe."
As I turned off the lamp, I thought about his words — and how every time I told myself to forget him, the universe seemed to conspire to make me remember.
Because maybe Ethan Marshall wasn't just another chapter.
Maybe he was the whole damn plot twist.
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