Burning Between Us

CHAPTER TWO

I thought seeing him would be the hardest part.

I was wrong.

It was pretending he didn’t exist while feeling him everywhere that nearly broke me.

The classroom buzzed with first-day energy—chairs scraping the floor, pages flipping, voices overlapping—but I heard none of it. My attention kept drifting to the door, half-expecting him to walk in, half-terrified that he would.

He didn’t.

I should have felt relieved. Instead, disappointment curled tightly in my chest.

“Transfer student?”

I stood when the teacher called, introducing myself with a voice that didn’t quite sound like my own. Eyes turned toward me, curious, assessing. I bowed my head slightly and sat back down, my heart still racing.

This was supposed to be normal.

This was supposed to be safe.

Yet every second felt like borrowed time.

When the bell rang, I packed my things quickly, eager to escape the walls closing in around me. The hallway was crowded, students moving in clusters, but somehow, I found myself alone when I reached the staircase.

That’s when a shadow fell across the steps.

“Running away already?”

His voice was deeper now. Calmer. Controlled.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned.

He stood a few steps above me, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. Up close, the changes were clearer—the sharp line of his jaw, the quiet authority in his stance. He wasn’t just the boy I once loved.

He was something else entirely.

“I’m not running,” I said. “I’m busy.”

A lie.

A weak one.

His eyes studied my face like he was memorizing it all over again. “You always say that when you don’t want to talk to me.”

The familiarity stung.

“That was before,” I replied. “Things are different now.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened.

“Are they?” he asked quietly.

I looked away, gripping the strap of my bag. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A pause. Heavy. Dangerous.

“My family decides where I go,” he said. “Not me.”

There it was—the truth hiding between his words.

I swallowed. “Then your family hasn’t changed.”

Neither had the fear that came with his name.

“They never will,” he said. “But you did.”

I met his gaze then, anger flaring despite myself. “You left. You disappeared. You don’t get to talk about change like you weren’t the one who walked away.”

His eyes darkened—not with anger, but something closer to regret.

“I let you go,” he said softly. “Because if you stayed… you would’ve been destroyed by my world.”

Silence stretched between us.

I should have hated him for that. For deciding my fate without asking. For breaking my heart in the name of protection.

Instead, my chest burned.

“You don’t get to protect me anymore,” I whispered.

He stepped back, giving me space, but the distance only made it worse.

“I know,” he said. “But I’m still here.”

I walked past him before he could say more.

I didn’t look back.

But deep down, I knew this truth—I wasn’t strong enough to pretend he was just another face on campus.

Not when the fire between us was still alive.

And not when this time, walking away might not be an option.