His Ruin, His possession

Chapter 3

Celyn

Getting close to Ivar was easier than I expected after that day.

As it turns out, Ivar Eduardo wasn’t just quiet, he was lonely. The kind of lonely that sinks into your bones. The kind I knew too well.

“My mother died when I was six,” he once told me, eyes fixed on the sky. “I didn’t get to attend the funeral. Father said illegitimate sons didn’t get mourning privileges.”

My fists clenched under the table. That was the first time I forgot why I got close to him.

Time moved quickly after that. He started laughing more. Sitting closer. Our conversations turned into daily rituals. Coffee at 9:05. Library at four. Weekend walks when the pit fights slowed down.

I had been wrong about him. He wasn’t like his father. Not even close. One afternoon, we sat on the campus rooftop, eating greasy burgers and watching the clouds shift.

“Do you ever feel like people only see what they want to see?” he asked.

“Every day.”

He looked at me then, really looked. “But you see people, Celyn. I think that’s why I like you.”

I froze. Just for a second. The deeper I went, the more I stopped caring about revenge. The more I wanted to protect him, from his family, his name, from the whole damn world.