A R I A
The moment Lucian and I enter the classroom, the atmosphere hits me like a wall. There's an eerie kind of silence—heavy, unnatural, like everyone's trying to act normal but failing miserably at it. Students are scattered across the room, sitting in clusters or hunched over their phones, whispering in low voices. Some pretend to flip through their textbooks, others stare blankly ahead, but nobody is really focused.
I shift uncomfortably, feeling every set of eyes focus on us as we walk further inside. Not openly staring—but just enough glances to make the back of my neck prickle. Everyone's on edge. I can feel it as much as I can see it.
And then, of course, they notice us.
Gina and Sara. I catch them out of the corner of my eye, sitting toward the far right side of the room. Bo
