XANDER
There’s something delicious and fulfilling about silence after chaos.
Not the peaceful kind. Not the sleepy, boring type you get after exams or speeches or a family meeting. No. I’m talking about the aftermath silence, the one that hangs heavy in the air after you’ve dropped a bomb and walked away from the flames without even glancing back.
That’s what I had walking down the hallway after Literature class, my sneakers loud on the polished floors, students parting like the Red Sea while whispering behind their hands like I couldn’t hear them.
They all looked at me like I was some hero. Some god.
But I wasn’t. I was far worse and I liked it that way.
Zayne walked beside me, not saying a word, which was normal. He only ever spoke when the need arises. But I could feel his tensio
