The day started with whispers. It ended with laughter—sharp, merciless, and aimed squarely at her.
Aria had felt it building since she walked into Crescent that morning. Stares followed her like shadows. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind of tension that clung to the walls before a storm broke. Even Luca had been uneasy, his usual calm cracked by glances he didn’t explain.
By lunch, she knew something was coming. She just didn’t know what.
It happened in the courtyard.
Students gathered in clusters, the way they always did when blood was in the water. Aria walked through them, head high, mask fixed. She had perfected the art of pretending not to care, but inside, every nerve was raw.
Then it hit her.
Cold. Sticky. Sweet.
A bucket of soda and syrup poured from above, drenc
