Chapter 16 Cracks beneath the surface
1080 Words
Ava slid onto the lab stool, brushing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Her muscles protested every movement, and she winced as she reached for her lab coat.
“You always look like you ran here from another planet,” came a voice behind her.
She didn’t have to turn. The voice was unmistakable—bored, smug, and unmistakably upper-class.
“Good morning, Calder,” she said flatly.
Calder Wren. Wealth dripped off his tone the way cologne clung to his clothes. Repeating his second year—not because he had failed, but because his family had convinced the school board he deserved another “round of exploration” in the bioengineering program. He knew the system like he owned it. And maybe, in some ways, he did.
He dropped into the seat beside her, sleeves rolled just enough to show off a watch that probably cost more than her scholarship. “Still sleeping better?” he asked, scanning the specimen slides without really looking at them.
“Barely. My body hurts like hell though,” Ava murmured, fingers gingerly massaging her neck.
Calder didn’t look up. “Then maybe stop whining and focus on the living tissue in front of you.”
Ava blinked at him. “Wow. Compassion and snark before noon. You’re on fire.”
He smirked. “And you’re behind. You keep spacing out, Monroe. You’re not going to last long in this department like that.”
His tone held no cruelty—just confidence. Too much of it. Still, there was something sharper behind his eyes today. He watched her a beat too long. Noticing. Calculating. Curious.
Ava turned her attention to the petri dish. The swirling reaction inside was supposed to simulate muscle regeneration under accelerated metabolic conditions. Instead, it looked like a bubbling soup.
She sighed and dropped her pen. “I need air.”
“You always need air,” Calder drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Are you part plant? Honestly. I should start watering you during lab hours.”
She gave him a tired glare. “That’s original.”
“And yet, accurate.” He tilted his head, watching her again. “You’ve been off lately. More than usual.”
Ava didn’t respond.
The air in the lab felt tighter than usual—pressing. She shrugged out of her coat and slipped out the back door. The old campus building, draped in ivy and surrounded by stone walkways, was usually a relief. Not today.
Outside, the late afternoon sun hit her face like a spotlight, but it wasn’t warmth she felt.
It was spinning.
The ground shifted beneath her like a wave rolling under stone. Her hand shot out, steadying herself against the rough wall. Her breath caught. The dizziness came so fast, so sharp, it left her blinking at nothing, vision speckled with white dots.
A pair of students glanced her way. One nudged the other.
Ava straightened before they could speak, brushing her hands against her skirt like nothing had happened. It was gone as quickly as it had come.
Exhaustion, she told herself. Just that. Just… too much.
Still, her legs felt heavier than they should as she returned to the building. She didn’t stop by the lab again. She collected her notebook from the bench, hugged it to her chest, and made her way back toward her dorm.
The walk blurred. Gravel underfoot. The hum of late classes dismissing. Her room felt like the only solid thing left in her world.
She made it to her floor, key halfway into the lock—
And then the world vanished.
—
Ava opened her eyes to soft shaking and the sound of someone calling her name. The sky had shifted above her. Evening now. Cooler. Darker. The hallway lights glowed in her peripheral vision.
“Elara?” she murmured, dazed.
Her roommate crouched over her, worry sharp in every line of her face. “Ava, you fainted! Goddess, I’ve been waiting here forever.”
“I—what?” Ava blinked, trying to push herself up, but Elara pressed a hand to her shoulder.
“Don’t move. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I thought… I just needed air.” Her words slurred slightly. Her fingers ached. Her knees stung.
“You didn’t even make it inside,” Elara whispered. “I found you like this. On the floor. What if I hadn’t come back early?”
Ava squeezed her eyes shut. Her body still felt like someone else’s.
She let Elara help her up. The short walk to their room felt like miles. Her bones ached. Her chest felt too tight. Her skin was clammy.
Elara poured her water, sat her on the edge of the bed, and knelt before her.
“I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.”
Ava started to protest, but Elara silenced her with a glare that would have made a professor proud. “Don’t. You fainted. You’ve been acting weird all week. You can barely eat. You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Ava croaked.
“You know I don’t mean it like that.” Elara’s voice softened. “You’re scaring me.”
Ava nodded slowly. Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.
In truth, she was scaring herself.
—
That Night – Alone in Her Room
While Elara went to fetch a sweater for their trip to the nurse’s office, Ava sat by the window, watching the wind stir the trees outside. She could still feel the echo of that dizziness—the weight of it, like something had tried to pull her out of herself.
It had never happened before. Not like that.
Her mind, stubborn and logical, whispered words like “dehydration,” “stress,” and “sleep debt.”
But something else lingered. A memory. A feeling.
Calder. His gaze. That arrogance she should’ve hated but reminded her too much of someone else.
Daxus.
The name echoed like a heartbeat in her chest.
She hadn’t spoken of since after her conversation with Lila . But the regret had started to creep in, quiet and slow, like frost settling under a doorframe. What had happened between them—it hadn't left her untouched.
And now, her body was responding in ways she couldn’t explain.
As the moon rose above Blackwood, casting pale light over her room. Ava curled into her coat, resting her forehead against the cool glass.
- Writer
