WHISPER

CHAPTER 1 - COLLISION

The lecture hall was filled with lackluster chatter, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor, and the gentle rustle of notebooks being opened just a bit too late. Darren Cole positioned himself at the back — a spot where many hid away to check their phones — but his focus was solely on the board, his thoughts already racing ahead of the professor.

“Can anyone explain how this theorem relates to non-linear models?” Dr. Akande inquired, scanning the room like a hawk searching for its next meal.

No hands were raised. That is, until Darren casually lifted his hand, leaning back in his chair as if it were effortless.

“It simplifies the variables into a predictable pattern before they become unstable,” he replied, his voice low yet confident.

The professor blinked and nodded. “Exactly right.”

“Cole,” the professor said, still focused on the board. “Can you explain the second part of the theorem for us?”

Darren took a deep breath. He leaned in and responded with a clarity that often surprised people. His voice was calm and confidently low.

“That part changes things because it doesn’t factor in the variable shift. You need to substitute here—” he pointed at his notebook, “—or everything falls apart.”

Dr. Akande raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly. “Correct again.”

A few students glanced over, some rolling their eyes.

Ryan, sitting nearby, smirked and said, “Showoff.”

“Then pay attention,” Darren replied quietly as he scribbled in the margin of his notes, even though he wasn’t actually writing anything important.

He didn’t feel the need to prove himself. He just wanted class to be over.

When the bell finally rang, they stepped out into the hallway—Darren had his hands in his pockets and his hood still up, following Ryan and Theo closely. Their laughter filled the corridor with silly jokes and remarks about a girl from the row ahead.

Darren wasn’t paying attention.

Not until he reached the corner.

Not until he bumped into someone.

It all happened quickly—the sharp turn, the shoulder clash, and then a rush of warmth spreading across his chest. Coffee soaked through his gray shirt, dripping down to his collarbone. The girl gasped and took a quick step back, her clothes stained just as badly.

“Oh God—I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as if trying to undo her mistake.

Ryan chuckled. “Wow. You good, man?”

The girl looked up, and Darren froze.

He recognized that face.

Her hair was darker than he remembered, her lips parted in surprise—but it was her eyes that struck him hard.

Avery.

His throat went dry.

But she just blinked at him, looking flustered and confused. She didn’t recognize him at all.

“Watch where you’re going,” Darren replied coolly, stepping back as if her presence burned him.

She stiffened. “I said I was sorry.”

“That doesn’t fix the coffee spill.”

“Seriously?” Her brow furrowed in disbelief. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah. Right.” His voice came out flat, sharper than he meant it to be—but this way felt easier. Keeping things cold kept him safe.

She didn’t remember him. That much was clear.

Which meant he still had time.

He glanced down at his shirt and muttered something quietly to himself.

“I’ll pay for the cleaning or something,” she offered while reaching into her bag.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She hesitated but then stepped back with a nod. “Okay. Fine.”

She hurried away—awkward and flustered—blending into the crowd without looking back.

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Wow, that was tough. She was pretty attractive, though."

Darren stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the hallway where she had disappeared.

It was her.

After all this time… she had returned.

And she didn’t have a clue who he was, Or what he had done.

Darren shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw clenched tight, If she didn’t remember then maybe the past really was put to rest. But he understood better than anyone — buried things always found a way to resurface.

Later during Lunch, Darren sat on the hood of his car, parked in the abandoned lot behind the dorms.

He picked up a cigarette he wouldn’t smoke, it was against the rules to smoke during school hours, he did it just to feel something between his fingers.

She was here.

He ran a hand down his face, jaw clenched. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Tell her?

He couldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

She looked… normal. Happy, even. Like someone who had healed. Or maybe someone who didn’t know she was still bleeding.

And here he was — guilty, chained to a past he’d never confessed.

His phone buzzed. A message from Ryan.

Ryan: “Yo. That girl? The one with the coffee? She’s in your psych class. You’ll see her after lunch . Lucky you.”

Darren stared at the screen.

Psych class.

Of course.

Darren sat behind the wheel, parked beneath a half-dead oak tree on the far side of campus. The engine hummed softly, but he hadn’t moved in five minutes.

He stared through the windshield, watching students cross the lot like ants — buzzing, laughing, alive.

His shirt was still damp from the coffee. The scent of caramel and cream clung to his collar. It was her scent now.

Avery Kings.

The name rang in his head like a chime someone kept hitting, over and over.

She hadn’t recognized him. Not even a flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

That should’ve brought relief. It didn’t.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, jaw locked.

He remembered the last time he saw her — pale, shaking, eyes wide and glassy as she was taken away. Her parents didn’t even speak to anyone. Just packed her up and left town.

Everyone had pretended to move on.

Except him.

Darren had carried it like a stone in his chest ever since — too heavy to ignore, too damned to confess.

Why is she here now?

Why would she come back?

He let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Out of everywhere… why this school?”

A sharp knock on the glass startled him. He looked up. A random guy in a varsity jacket walked past, mouthing move your car, like Darren was parked in someone’s spot.

He flipped the guy off without much enthusiasm, then turned the key, the engine rumbling to life.

He had a class to get to.

And, apparently, so did she.

Darren stepped into the psych lecture ten minutes early — not because he was eager, but because it was the only class that actually held his attention. People were puzzles. And puzzles didn’t lie the way people did.

He slipped into his usual spot — middle row, far right. Close enough to hear, far enough not to be noticed.

Ryan wasn’t in this one. That was a bonus.

He pulled out his notebook, doodling a jagged line down the edge of the page as the lecture hall began to fill.

Then—

A voice behind him. Laughing. Soft. Familiar.

His fingers went still.

He didn’t look up.

Couldn’t.

Not until the professor walked in and the doors closed — locking the moment in.

“Before we begin,” Professor Charles said, adjusting her glasses, “let’s take a few minutes for new intros. Some of you just transferred. Let’s be human for once.”

Darren hated these moments.

He ducked his head, willing it to pass.

Two rows behind him, a girl stood up. Calm, composed. She smiled.

“I’m Avery Kings. Psych major… first year here.”

Darren’s lungs tightened. He didn’t turn. He didn’t move.

He just listened.

“I grew up here, but I’ve been away for a while. Thought I’d give this place another shot.”

A few murmurs. Someone whispered “rich kid.” Someone else muttered “pretty face.”

But Darren only heard the last part.

Another shot.

She sat down. And he finally turned, just enough to catch her profile.

Still smiling.

Still clueless.

She didn’t recognize him. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch.

His stomach knotted.

“Cole,” Professor Charles called out. “Want to be our next victim?”

He didn’t hear the first part.

“What?”

She smirked. “Your turn.”

He stood up slowly, eyes flickering forward again.

“Darren Cole. First year. Psychology and Econ.”

Avery tilted her head — something about his voice pulling her attention.

Their eyes met.

Just for a second.

A flicker of something… almost like déjà vu.

Then nothing.

She turned away.

And Darren sat back down, pulse quick, throat dry.

She really didn’t know.

But they were in the same class now.

And that meant one thing:

He wouldn’t be able to avoid her.