Bryan leaned back against the wall of the dormitory kitchen, arms folded tightly across his chest as if shielding his heart from a memory that refused to die. Clara.
She was like that rare flower that blooms not just in gardens but in the secret corners of every heart. She had bloomed in his. And even after everything, she still lingered there.
He tried—he truly tried—to shut her out. But the pictures… those damn pictures of Clara and Mitchell that trended months back, they shattered whatever hope he had kept hidden beneath layers of denial.
"There’s no beam of hope left," he muttered under his breath, eyes dull.
He had been so certain—so sure—that he would be picked for the culinary team for the Gala Glide Night. It was a dream, yes, but now it felt like a nightmare in disguise. Becau
