Even Roses Have Thorns

7. Ruined by Morning

The first thing Alina felt was dryness — her mouth, her throat, her skin.

The second was the pounding behind her eyes, like someone pressing a fist against the inside of her skull.

She groaned softly, shifting under the weight of the sheets. The room was still dim, the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp casting long, golden shadows across the floor.

Her limbs felt wrong.

Heavy. Foreign.

The ache in her shoulders, the dull burn in her thighs — not sharp pain, just used, like she’d run a marathon she couldn’t remember signing up for.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

The ceiling above her blurred into focus. Pale, unfamiliar. Not her room. Not her bed.

A thread of confusion pulled tight in her chest.

She turned her head slowly.

The space beside her was empty.

The bedsheets were twisted and uneven, the imprint of someone else’s body still faintly visible in the pillow beside hers. The air was warm — still carrying the faintest trace of cologne.

Not Elias’s.

That realization hit like cold water, sobering her faster than any headache could.

She sat up sharply, dizziness crashing over her in waves. Her dress on the floor. Her hair a tangled mess she didn’t remember creating.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark.

She reached for it with trembling hands and pressed the side button.

The screen exploded to life — notifications spilling in from every direction.

17 MISSED CALLS – Elias Monroe

3 Messages – Sierra Langford

1 Tag – @thequeenspoison

4 Missed Calls – Mom

1 Missed Call – Unknown Number

Her stomach dropped.

Her breath came shallow now, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun what her brain was piecing together too slowly.

She opened her texts first.

Elias: “Where are you?”

Elias: “Alina, please answer me.”

Elias: “Are you with HIM?”

Elias: “Don’t ever speak to me again.”

Her vision blurred, bile rising in her throat.

She opened i********: next, her finger hovering over the tag.

It was a photo.

Blurry.

Dimly lit.

Her outline — unmistakable.

In bed.

One shoulder exposed. The edge of her face turned slightly toward the camera. Another figure beside her. Broad-shouldered. Shirtless.

Kael Thorne.

The caption:

@thequeenspoison

When dream girls play dirty… who’s really the victim?

Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Alina pressed her hands to her face and tried to breathe.

She couldn’t.

She didn’t remember this.

She didn’t remember anything.

Last night — Sierra’s voice, the drink in her hand, the soft bed, the too-sweet air…

Then darkness.

Not Elias’s arms.

Not his voice.

Not his scent.

And now this.

Her hands curled into fists against her chest. The room spun harder.

She needed air.

She needed answers.

She needed him—

She scrambled off the bed, legs shaky, clutching her phone like a lifeline as she fled the room that now felt like a coffin with silk sheets.

Alina burst out into the hallway, clutching her phone like it could anchor her.

But nothing felt solid. The air outside the guest room was colder — or maybe that was her body reacting to adrenaline finally catching up. Her feet were bare, her dress still rumpled, her hands shaking as she blinked against the fluorescent light that washed everything in artificial clarity.

The world looked normal.

And that was the worst part.

Her phone buzzed again in her hand.

Elias.

But not a call this time. A message.

She swiped it open with numb fingers.

Elias: “You really did it. I didn’t want to believe it, but I saw the post. I saw the photo. I hope it was worth it.”

She stopped walking. Just stood there, rooted in place in the middle of Max Rudd’s hallway, reading those words over and over.

A second buzz.

Elias: “You let me worry all night while you were in HIS bed.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

“No,” she whispered to the empty hallway. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

Alina pressed her lips together as a wave of nausea rolled through her. She forced herself to keep walking, one hand trailing along the wall for balance.

Another tag notification flashed at the top of her screen, but she didn’t open it.

She didn’t need to. The photo was already seared into her mind. Her reputation, body, relationship — all exposed in one filtered frame.

They don’t know what really happened.

But they’ve already decided.

She reached the stairwell and pushed open the door. The sudden quiet inside was suffocating.

She wanted Elias to answer the phone and listen to her — not block her out with silent accusations.

She slid down the wall of the stairwell, gripping her phone like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.

I didn’t know what I was drinking.

I didn’t know who he was.

I didn’t know what I was doing.

But no one would care.

Because the photo didn’t show confusion.

It didn’t show blurred vision or a name whispered to the wrong face.

It showed Alina Everhart with Kael Thorne.

And no one was asking questions.

They were just sharing the evidence.

The morning air was colder than it should’ve been.

Alina stepped out of the building and onto the curb with the shakiness of someone trying to survive on instinct alone. Her dress clung to her skin with dampness she didn’t remember sweating into. Her hands were still shaking. Her hair, her lips — she hadn’t looked in a mirror since waking, and she didn’t need to. She felt like ruin.

And then—

She saw him.

Elias.

Standing a few feet from his car, phone in hand, shoulders stiff. His jaw clenched as he stared down at the screen like it might split in two under the weight of what it had shown him.

Her heart nearly stopped.

“Elias,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She took a step forward.

He didn’t turn.

“Elias,” she tried again, louder. “Please. Please listen to me—”

He looked up then.

Just once.

And the way he looked at her…

It wasn’t angry.

It was hollow.

Like something inside him had already shut down. Like he had already said goodbye in his head.

Her throat tightened. She walked closer. “I don’t remember what happened. I swear, I thought— I thought it was you.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You slept with Kael Thorne,” he said, like he was reciting a fact. A death certificate.

“I didn’t know it was him,” she said, the words breaking apart in her mouth. “I didn’t— I don’t even remember—”

“You let me call you all night,” he said, voice low and sharp. “I was begging you to pick up, Alina. And you were in his bed.”

“I wasn’t with him—” she cried, stepping closer. “I was drugged. I didn’t even know—”

He took a step back.

The distance felt worse than if he’d shouted.

“You can lie to everyone else,” Elias said. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her breath caught. “I’m not—”

“I believed in you.” His voice cracked. “Even when people said you were too perfect. Too rehearsed. I always told them you were real.”

“I am real—”

He shook his head once, slowly. His lips parted like he wanted to say more — something angry, or maybe something heartbreaking.

But nothing came.

He turned toward the driver’s side door.

“Elias,” she whispered, but it didn’t stop him.

He opened the car door. Sat down.

And drove away.

No goodbye.

No final word.

No closure.

The sun had risen fully now — bold, unapologetic — as if it hadn’t just scorched her entire life into ash.

Alina walked through campus like a ghost.

Everywhere she turned, someone stared. Conversations stopped mid-sentence when she passed. People turned their backs too slowly. Laughter that had nothing to do with her still sounded like mockery.

The post had gone viral.

The gossip pages were alive with anonymous speculation and blurred screenshots. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had something to say — except the one person who’d been there when it happened.

Kael Thorne.

She found him near the edge of the quad, surrounded by space like it was an invisible moat. No one dared approach him. No one ever did.

She stepped forward before she could lose her nerve, heart pounding, words already burning on her tongue.

“Kael.”

He turned, slowly.

His face was unreadable — not because it was blank, but because every inch of him had been carved into stone.

She stood before him, wrung out and raw. “I need to talk to you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said coldly.

Alina’s voice cracked. “I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t know how that happened. I thought I was—”

“With Elias?” he finished, voice like a knife dipped in ice. “Yeah. You made that pretty clear.”

She stared at him, stunned.

“I was drugged,” she said. “Something was in my drink. I didn’t even know you were there until I woke up alone.”

His expression didn’t shift.

“That’s convenient.”

Alina’s breath caught. “Excuse me?”

“You expect me to believe you were just accidentally in my bed?” Kael asked, voice dropping lower, more lethal. “That I was some mix-up on your way to your boyfriend?”

“I never meant—”

“You wanted a headline,” he cut in. “You got one.”

She stepped back like he’d struck her. “You think I wanted this?”

He stared down at her, cold and composed.

“You’re not the first girl who’s tried to climb the ladder,” he said. “You’re just the first who got caught pretending not to.”

Her voice turned to a whisper. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Cry about it later,” Kael snapped. “If you’re lucky, someone might still care.”

The words hit harder than the post.

He didn’t see a girl who was confused and used and scared.

He saw a threat.

And he was preparing to destroy her before she could destroy him.

By the time she reached the courtyard, the adrenaline was gone.

Her legs moved on autopilot, the voices around her bleeding together in white noise. She didn’t look up. Didn’t want to confirm that the judgment she felt wasn’t just paranoia.

She just wanted someone — anyone — to look at her and see her.

And then, she saw Sierra.

Sitting alone on their usual bench.

Her golden hair glowed in the sunlight. Her expression was a mask of practiced concern — soft, worried, loyal.

For a split second, Alina’s breath caught.

Thank God.

She crossed the courtyard quickly, clinging to the last shred of hope she hadn’t yet lost. Sierra stood as soon as she approached, arms open.

“Hey,” she said gently. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Alina fell into the hug before her brain could catch up.

Sierra’s arms wrapped around her perfectly, the coffee cups discarded behind her. Her perfume smelled like white florals and stability. Like the past, before everything broke.

“I didn’t do anything,” Alina whispered into her shoulder. “I swear I didn’t. I don’t remember most of it—he wasn’t supposed to be there. I thought it was Elias, I—”

“I know,” Sierra said softly. “I know.”

Her hand stroked Alina’s hair like a sister would. Like someone who believed her. Someone safe.

“I was so scared,” Alina said. “But I don’t even know what happened. Everyone thinks—”

“They’ll forget,” Sierra interrupted, just enough pressure behind her words. “People always move on.”

“I thought you just needed to rest,” she said. “I didn’t think he’d follow you.”

Something cold pressed into Alina’s gut.

“But I never saw him… I don’t even remember him walking in.”

“I don’t know when he did,” Sierra said quickly. “Maybe I missed it. I left to get water.”

Alina stared at her.

The words were right. The tone was perfect. But suddenly, it all felt too… easy.

And for the first time, Alina wondered if the only hand left holding hers… was the one that pushed her off the edge.