It had been nearly twenty days.
For nearly three weeks, the halls of the university had breathed a little easier. No cutting remarks thrown across the campus courtyard. No luxury cars pulling up at the entrance like royal parades. No elite Greystorm guards making students clear pathways with a single glare.
Because Tristan Greystorm had been gone.
But today—he was back.
The news spread like fire through every corridor, text thread, and student group. By the time the fourth lecture ended, the entire campus was buzzing.
"He's back?""Did you see his car?""He looks hotter than ever.""God, he's even more arrogant now."
And then came the moment everyone was waiting for.
Tristan walked through the college gates like he owned the very soil beneath them. He had changed—but not in the ways that softened a man. If anything, he had grown sharper. Taller, leaner, his jaw more defined, his hair styled messily like he had just stepped out of an elite fashion shoot and couldn't care less. He wore a steel-grey coat thrown carelessly over his shoulders and a black button-up, half unbuttoned, with a silver Greystorm pin catching the sunlight on his chest.
The Greystorm security guards—dressed in sleek black suits—stepped ahead of him, waving people aside with polished arrogance. One of them barked at a student to move their bike three inches left. Another tossed a velvet cloth on a dusty bench before Tristan even considered sitting.
Gasps. Phones clicking. Girls pretending not to look but clearly swooning. Boys staring in part awe, part envy.
And Tristan?
He smirked.
He stopped at a group of fashion students, gave one of them a long look, and winked.
"Still the prettiest crowd," he said, his voice smooth and cruel. "I hope the standards haven't dropped while I was gone."
The girl he winked at dropped her phone.
"God," someone whispered, "he's literally a walking heartbreak."
Across the field – Emrys
Emrys stood near the college ground, stunned.
He hadn't expected Tristan to come back so soon. And certainly not like this.
He looks like a damn movie star, Emrys thought, staring with a half-frown.
For the last few days, Emrys had toyed with the idea of getting closer to Gianna. Maybe confessing his feelings, maybe just making her smile again. But every time he tried to approach her, she would excuse herself—either too politely or too quickly.
He knew she wasn't avoiding him. She was avoiding a situation.
A clash. A consequence.
Because even in her silence, Gianna had always been smarter than the rest of them.
Meanwhile – Gianna
Gianna sat quietly near the library steps, a thick book in her lap she hadn't turned a page of in the last ten minutes.
She knew.
She felt it before she even heard it—Tristan's return.
The entire college was vibrating with his name, and yet she didn't look up. Not even when Sabrina and Celeste passed her by, dropping barbed words like breadcrumbs.
"Oh, look who's still playing the wounded princess.""Guess she finally realized no one claps for silent tragedies.""Maybe she's just trying to look innocent after manipulating Emrys."
Gianna didn't move.
She didn't glance up.
The old her would've snapped back, smiled sweetly, and destroyed them with one sentence. But these days, Gianna Veymont had changed.
She was quiet now.
Not because she was weak—but because she was calculating.
Because she was tired.
And because the betrayal still ran too deep.
Elsewhere – Sabrina & Celeste
The two walked away from their verbal jabs, annoyed.
"She's boring these days," Sabrina complained. "You said she'd fight."
Celeste's eyes glinted. "She's waiting for something. Or someone."
Sabrina smirked. "Then let's make her wait longer."
Evening – Campus Courtyard
Tristan leaned against his favorite marble pillar, scrolling through his phone, surrounded by a small circle of people who dared to approach. Everything about him screamed control.
And yet, his eyes flickered across the courtyard for just one moment too long.
To a figure sitting near the fountain.
To a girl with her hair tied back, lost in thought, looking lonelier than she ever let on.
Gianna.
He didn't go to her.
But his smirk dropped—just for a second.
Then, like the actor he was raised to be, he tossed his coat off, laughed at a joke someone made, and continued playing the part of a prince too arrogant to bleed.