Sky’s POV
The week that followed was like living in hell. It wasn't just the physical discomfort; it was the psychological weight of it all. At school, Zayne was still himself. He didn’t actually bully me, not directly. He didn’t throw insults or trip me in the halls. What he did was worse: he watched. He’d stand with his friends, his hands tucked into his pockets, and his eyes would find me while his minions did the actual cruel work.
Once, during history class, one of his friends flicked the back of my ear so hard it burned. I gasped and turned, my eyes stinging, my chest tight with humiliation.
Zayne looked straight at me.
For a brief second, our eyes locked. I waited. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe for him to tell them to stop. Maybe for him to look away. Anything.
H
