Nobody Knows

Chapter 2: Morning Shadow

The alarm rang at 4 a.m., sharp and unforgiving.

I reached for it immediately, silencing it before it could ring twice. My head throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of wine and loud music. That part was normal.

What mattered was timing.

Lucas was still asleep beside me, one arm resting loosely across the mattress where I had been. In the quiet light of early dawn, he looked different. Calm. Almost innocent.

For a second, I stayed still.

He had called me Brooke.

Not Samantha.

Just Brooke.

I wondered if he would remember that in the morning.

Freedom only exists in hours. Sunrise always demands a return.

Carefully, I shifted away from him. Every movement measured. Every breath controlled. The sheets rustled softly as I slid out of bed, gathering my dress from the floor.

No noise.

No lingering.

No attachments.

That was the rule.

I dressed quickly, smoothing the red silk back into place as if the night had not happened. One last glance at him, then I stepped into the hallway.

The hotel corridor was silent. The world outside still half asleep. I walked through it like a shadow, heels in hand, heart steady.

By the time I reached my street, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

This was my routine.

Escape.

Return.

Repeat.

At the back of the house, I slipped off

Sunlight filtered through my curtains sooner than I would have liked.

A knock followed.

“Sam, get up. You do not want to be late for school.”

Mom’s voice was calm. Controlled. The way it always was in the morning.

“I’m up,” I replied, keeping my tone steady.

I opened the door just enough for her to see me, hair slightly messy, glasses already on. The picture of innocence.

She glanced at me carefully. “You look tired.”

“Studying,” I said.

She nodded, satisfied with that answer.

Of course.

Studying was always acceptable.

Downstairs, breakfast was already laid out neatly. Pancakes. Toast. Coffee. Everything placed properly, like our lives.

I sat down and poured syrup slowly, pretending to focus on my plate while my parents talked.

“I still cannot believe Janine’s situation,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Such a shame. Nineteen and already ruining her future.”

Dad stirred his coffee. “It starts with small compromises. One bad decision leads to another.”

Compromises.

Bad decisions.

I took a bite of my pancake.

If they only knew how many compromises I made before sunrise.

Mom continued, “This is why values matter. Modesty matters. Discipline matters. When young people think freedom means doing whatever they want, they forget consequences.”

I smiled politely.

Freedom.

They speak of it like it’s a disease.

“God gave rules for protection,” Dad added. “They are not restrictions. They are safeguards.”

Safeguards.

Interesting word.

I wondered if they would still talk about protection the same way if they knew where I had been four hours ago.

If heartbreak were measured by volume, my mother would win awards.

I finished my breakfast quietly, nodding when necessary, offering small responses so no one would question me.

They talk about shame like it belongs to other families.

Other daughters.

Never theirs.

I stood up and grabbed my bag.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

Mom smiled warmly. “Be careful. Remember who you are.”

I almost laughed.

Oh, I remember.

That’s the problem.

On the way to school, I spotted Cael near the corner of our street, backpack slung over one shoulder, arguing with his phone like it had personally offended him.

I didn’t think twice.

“I’ll walk from here,” I told Dad, already reaching for the door.

He looked at me, then at Cael, then back at me. “Fine. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

I hopped out before he could change his mind and jogged over.

“You look like you’re losing a fight,” I said.

Cael glanced up. “I am. This calculator app is stupid.”

“You’re the one who’s stupid if you need an app for basic derivatives.”

He gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Miss Education Major thinks she’s superior again.”

“I am superior,” I replied sweetly. “You just refuse to accept it.”

He fell into step beside me like he always did. Comfortable. Easy. No tension. No overthinking.

“Alright,” he said, nudging my shoulder lightly. “Bet. Next quiz, whoever scores lower buys ice cream.”

“You’re already preparing your wallet.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“You’re jealous.”

He snorted. “Of what?”

“My natural brilliance.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You are impossible, Sam.”

My uniform skirt brushed against my knees as we walked. Hair neatly tied. Glasses in place. Perfect little scholar. If anyone looked at us, they’d see two harmless college students arguing about math.

Lucas had been calm and intense.

Cael was loud and familiar.

One made my pulse race.

The other made me feel steady.

“You’re quiet,” he said suddenly.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“You already used that joke.”

“And I’ll use it again.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.

With him, everything was simple. No performance. No pretending. Just noise and teasing and years of shared history.

“You really think you can solve that integral faster than me?” I asked.

“Please. I was solving integrals before you knew what they were.”

“That’s biologically impossible.”

He bumped his shoulder against mine again. “Keep talking. I like confidence. Makes it more satisfying when I win.”

“In your dreams.”

We reached the school gates still arguing, still laughing, still pretending this was all we were.

Just best friends.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing changing.

We were still arguing about who would win the bet when it happened.

My foot caught on something uneven near the pavement.

Before I could react, my body tilted forward.

My books slipped from my hands.

And I fell.

Not gracefully.

Not subtly.

Full impact.

Gasps and scattered laughter echoed around us. My skirt rode up in the chaos, fabric shifting higher than it should have. For a split second, I didn’t move.

I knew.

Heat rushed to my face before I even looked down.

I scrambled to sit up, yanking my skirt down immediately, heart pounding. My pink underwear had definitely made an appearance.

Please let the ground swallow me.

“Oh my God,” I muttered under my breath.

Around us, a few students snickered. Someone whispered something I couldn’t catch.

Then a voice, way too close and way too amused.

“Wow. Pink.”

I froze.

Of course.

Of all people.

Vhan stood a few steps away, basketball tucked under his arm, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

I wanted to evaporate.

Cael sighed dramatically and crouched down to help me gather my books. “You couldn’t wait until graduation to embarrass yourself?”

“Shut up,” I hissed quietly, snatching a notebook from his hand.

He leaned closer. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I tripped, not fractured my ego.”

“That’s debatable.”

I shot him a look.

Vhan stepped forward and handed me the last book. “You good?”

I avoided his eyes. “Yeah.”

He nodded once, still clearly amused but not pushing it. “Watch your step next time.”

“I will,” I said quickly.

I stood up, adjusting my skirt again just to be sure, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

My face was still burning.

As we started walking again, Cael leaned slightly toward me.

“You know,” he said casually, “next time maybe wear shorts under your skirt.”

“I forgot.”

“How do you forget that?”

“I was in a rush.”

He raised a brow. “Doing what?”

“Breathing. Existing. Mind your business.”

He laughed.

Behind us, I could still feel eyes on me.

Of all the ways to be noticed, this had to be it.

Fantastic.

By the time we entered the classroom, my embarrassment had cooled into something manageable.

Calculus 2.

My comfort zone.

At least numbers behaved logically.

Professor Reyes walked in exactly on time, placing his folder on the desk before writing across the board in precise strokes.

“Today,” he began, “you will be working in pairs. You will derive and apply integrals to a real-world model. This is not just about solving equations. It is about reasoning. Communication. Accuracy.”

He turned to face us.

“You will submit a written report and present your solution next week. Choose wisely. Your partner matters.”

A ripple of whispers moved through the room.

I felt Cael shift beside me.

“Obviously we’re pairing,” he muttered. “I refuse to risk my grade.”

I smirked but didn’t look at him.

Across the room, Vhan was leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. He caught me looking.

He smiled.

Slow.

Deliberate.

My stomach flipped.

“I think,” I said casually, “we don’t have to pair every time.”

Cael blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it’s good to work with other people too.”

“You hate working with other people.”

“That’s not true.”

“You once said group work is a social experiment.”

“It is.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Sam.”

Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, Vhan stood up and walked over.

“Pinky,” he said lightly, stopping near my desk. “You free?”

My heart did something unnecessary.

“For what?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know.

“Project.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Unless you’re already taken.”

Cael let out a soft scoff.

I ignored him.

“Sure,” I said quickly. “We can pair.”

“Nice,” Vhan replied. “Seven p.m. tomorrow. My place.”

He tapped my desk lightly before heading back to his seat.

The professor began discussing the project details again, but the room felt louder somehow.

Cael leaned back in his chair.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” he said quietly.

“It’s just a project.”

“Yeah.”

His tone was light.

Too light.

“You’re dramatic,” I said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He looked at me then, not joking this time.

“For the record,” he said, voice calm, “I was going to ask you first.”

For a second, something tightened in my chest.

Guilt.

Then Vhan laughed at something across the room, and my attention shifted again.

“I know,” I said, softer. “Next time.”

He nodded once.

“Yeah. Next time.”

The professor called for silence and began explaining the application model.

I opened my notebook.

But my focus wasn’t entirely on the board.

It was split.

Half on the equations.

Half on the way Vhan had said my name.

And somewhere underneath it all, a quiet awareness that something between Cael and me had shifted slightly.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing obvious.

Just a small crack in something that used to feel solid.