Chapter 5 Fracture Lines

The week began with an ache in Lilan's bones. Not from sickness, not even from exhaustion-but from something much deeper. A tension that had settled into her blood like it didn't plan on leaving.

She couldn't stop thinking about his voice.

"Better."

The word rang in her ears during lectures, echoed between pages of textbooks, pulsed in her temples as she stared at the ceiling at night. It was ridiculous. Obsessive. She knew that. But logic had never stood a chance against Aidan Voss.

He'd noticed her. For real.

And now she wanted more.

By Tuesday, she had returned to her quiet stalking.

No more dropped books or poems under windshields-too obvious. Now it was eye contact in the hallway. Just long enough to test if he'd meet her gaze again.

He didn't.

Not directly.

But he looked. She caught him once, in the reflection of a vending machine. Another time, during lunch, when she passed the outdoor table where he sat with his usual trio-Nico, who always wore sunglasses; Jax, who had a devil-may-care grin; and Tyler, silent but brutal.

Aidan sat like a king without a crown-lean, unreadable, playing with a silver ring between his fingers. He didn't speak much. He didn't need to.

And when she passed behind them, she felt it.

That subtle pause in his motion.

The way the ring stopped spinning.

He saw her.

Claire appeared again Thursday afternoon, sliding into the seat across from Lilan at the library like they were old friends.

"You're obsessed," she said simply.

Lilan flinched. "What?"

Claire tilted her head. "Aidan. You're obsessed. I've seen that look before. Usually ends in tears."

Lilan shut her book a little too loudly. "I'm not... I'm just-"

"Don't lie. You're not good at it."

Lilan swallowed. "He spoke to me."

Claire's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes shifted. "Did he?"

"He said something was better. I changed his coffee and he noticed."

Claire leaned back, crossed her arms. "And now you think you're different."

"I am different," Lilan said, her voice sharper than she intended. "I'm not like the girls who throw themselves at him."

"No," Claire said slowly. "You're worse."

Lilan's breath caught.

"Because you believe it means something," Claire continued. "You think he's just misunderstood. That you'll be the one to break through. That he'll suddenly... what? Fall for you?"

Lilan said nothing.

Claire stood, gathering her bag. "You're not the first. But maybe you'll be the first he doesn't ruin."

Then she was gone.

That night, Lilan didn't write in her journal.

She paced.

She stared at the wall. At her window. At the silver hair clip she hadn't worn since Saturday.

Was Claire right?

Was she worse?

The answer came the next morning.

Friday.

A chill in the air. Rain on the way.

Lilan skipped lunch and walked the long route to the East Building. She didn't plan to. Her feet just took her there.

She turned the corner-then froze.

Aidan stood alone, leaning against the brick wall near the side entrance. He held his phone loosely in one hand, the other shoved into his coat pocket. His brows were furrowed, but not in frustration-more like he was thinking.

Not surrounded by his trio. Not flanked by girls. Alone.

It was too perfect.

She almost turned away.

But then-he looked up.

Straight at her.

And he didn't look away.

Lilan stepped forward before she could stop herself.

"Hi," she said.

His eyes flicked over her face. Slowly. Not cruelly. Just... observant.

"You're the one from the café," he said.

It wasn't a question.

Lilan nodded, breath caught in her chest. "Yeah."

Silence. The air felt charged. She couldn't read his expression-he was a blank page that dared you to write on him and then punished you for trying.

"You changed the coffee," he said.

"Did you hate it?"

A pause. Then-a twitch of his mouth. Not a smile. But not far from it.

"No. I finished it."

Lilan felt dizzy. "I'm glad."

He tilted his head slightly, like she was something mildly curious. Something he hadn't figured out yet.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you care if I liked it?"

She hesitated. Then told the truth.

"Because you noticed."

Aidan didn't react right away. Then he pushed off the wall, stepped forward. Closer. Not too close. But enough.

"You know I notice a lot of things," he said. "I just don't say them out loud."

Lilan's pulse skipped.

"Like what?" she whispered.

His eyes held hers. That same chill. That same gravity.

"You have a tell. When you lie, your fingers twitch. Like you're playing piano."

Her hands dropped to her sides automatically.

"I wasn't lying," she said, voice small.

Another beat of silence.

Then Aidan stepped back.

"Maybe not today," he said.

And just like that, he walked away.

Lilan stood in the quiet hallway, stunned.

Not from what he said.

But from what it meant.

He'd noticed her hands. Her mannerisms. Her.

He'd watched her.

And that was more terrifying than thrilling.

Because if Aidan Voss was watching her... then nothing about this was a game anymore.

Not for either of them.

End of Chapter 5

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Chapter 5: Fracture Lines (Extended Version)

The days after the second coffee encounter dragged by like ghosts through fog.

Lilan couldn't focus. She tried. She really tried-on lectures, homework, even folding laundry-but her mind had become a maze, and every path led to Aidan. His eyes, his voice, that one-word praise that had branded itself across her ribs.

"Better."

She kept whispering it to herself at night, as if saying it over and over might summon more. More words. More looks. More... him.

But Aidan didn't work on anyone's schedule. Least of all hers.

On Monday, he didn't show up to economics.

On Tuesday, she passed him in the quad, surrounded by his usual circle-Nico, Jax, Tyler. They were laughing about something, throwing scraps of paper at each other like overgrown children with bank accounts. Aidan just watched, silent, sipping something from a silver thermos.

He didn't look at her.

Not once.

But Lilan saw the twitch in his fingers. The way he paused the sip as she passed. The way his jaw shifted slightly.

He noticed.

By Wednesday, it felt like a fever. She could feel him even when he wasn't there. Like his presence had infected her memory, her breath, her bloodstream. The more she tried to ignore it, the louder he became inside her head.

It wasn't love.

It wasn't even infatuation anymore.

It was hunger.

That terrifying kind-the kind that made her forget her own edges. The kind that whispered she was born to orbit someone like him.

Claire cornered her in the library Thursday afternoon. No warning. Just slid into the chair opposite Lilan and rested her chin on her palm like they were old friends.

"You know you're unraveling, right?"

Lilan looked up, startled.

Claire popped a piece of gum into her mouth and smiled with the innocence of a serpent. "Aidan's been watching you."

Lilan's pulse jumped. "He has?"

"Like a cat watches a red dot."

"That's... good, isn't it?"

Claire snorted. "You're not listening. You're the dot, Lilan. The thing he might pounce on. Or ignore. Or tear apart."

"You don't think he-"

"Oh, I know he doesn't fall. He slips. Rarely. And when he does, he takes someone down with him."

Lilan clenched her fists beneath the table. "Then why are you warning me?"

Claire looked at her for a long moment, all her playfulness gone.

"Because I don't know if I want to watch you drown yet."

Then she was gone, leaving her perfume and that haunting thought behind.

That night, Lilan didn't go home after class. She walked.

Past the main road. Past the old tennis courts. Through the quiet East Path behind the humanities building, where the lanterns were few and the trees stood like shadows.

She sat on the steps near the faculty lounge, the journal heavy in her lap.

She didn't write anything.

She just sat there, staring up at the stars she could barely see through the city haze.

She didn't feel like a red dot.

She felt like something small and flammable. Waiting for someone to strike the match.

Friday afternoon. Cloudy. Cold.

She skipped lunch and wandered the East Building again, pretending to study the art on the walls. She didn't expect anything. She told herself she wasn't looking for him.

She lied.

And then, like the universe had heard her dishonesty and decided to expose her-

He appeared.

Aidan Voss. Alone.

Leaning against the wall near the back door of East Hall, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding his phone like he wasn't even reading it.

His hair was slightly damp, like he'd just come from a swim or a storm. His coat was open, exposing the fitted dark sweater beneath. He looked like something carved out of myth-untouchable, unknowable.

Lilan froze.

She could've turned away.

She didn't.

Her boots clicked softly on the tile as she walked toward him, every step rehearsed in her head a thousand times, though her body was buzzing with terror.

He looked up.

Right at her.

No walls this time. No guards. Just him. Looking.

"Hi," she said softly.

His gaze didn't shift. "You're the one from the café."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. One that pinned her in place.

"Yeah," she said, breathless.

"You changed the coffee."

She nodded. "Did you... hate it?"

There was a pause.

Then-barely, barely-a flicker at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile. Something more dangerous.

"I finished it," he said.

She exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath.

"I'm glad."

He tilted his head like she was a painting he couldn't decide whether to admire or destroy. "You always try that hard? For people who barely speak to you?"

His words were sharp, but his tone wasn't cruel. It was... curious.

Lilan swallowed. "No. Just you."

More silence.

Then he stepped forward-just enough to change the air between them.

"You care what I think."

It wasn't mocking. Not surprised either. Just observation, clinical and clean.

Lilan looked up at him and didn't lie. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you make it hard not to."

He studied her again. That same stillness. The silence between seconds.

"You lie when you're nervous," he said after a beat.

"What?"

"Your fingers twitch. Like you're trying to play something invisible."

Her hands clenched before she could stop them. She hid them behind her back.

"I'm not lying."

"Not today," he said.

And then, with no further explanation, Aidan turned and walked away.

Just like that.

No goodbye. No glance back.

And yet-Lilan felt like the floor had fallen out from under her.

Because that brief conversation had confirmed everything.

He had been watching her.

Not just seeing.

Watching.

And that meant he was aware.

Of her.

Of this.

Of something.

Later that night, she stood in front of her mirror, journal open on the sink, her toothbrush forgotten.

*"He knows who I am. He notices details. He watches me.

He could've brushed me off. But he didn't.

He could've mocked me. He didn't.

He stepped closer.

And now I can't tell if I'm being hunted... or chosen."*

And for the first time, Lilan wasn't sure which one she wanted more.