Chapter 63

The hallway buzzed with life as students darted from class to class, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony. I kept my gaze forward, forcing my feet to move at an even pace, but the prickling sensation of eyes on my back made my skin crawl. The rumors, the whispers—they followed me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Look who it is,” Violet’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and biting. “The Omega who thinks she’s untouchable just because Silas looks at her like she hung the moon.”

I clenched my jaw, ignoring her as I moved past. The hallway felt narrower, the walls pressing in as the laughter of her friends echoed behind me.

“She’s such a fraud,” Talia added, her tone dripping with condescension.

“Bet she’s hiding something,” another voice chimed in, laced with mock curiosity.

“Or maybe she’s just desperate,” Violet whispered loudly enough for it to carry. “Desperate enough to pretend she’s something she’s not. That’s why Silas is with her, right? Because she’s different. Or maybe he just likes his toys broken.”

My heart thudded painfully, the sting of their words settling deep. My fingers flexed at my sides as I forced myself not to react, not to give them what they wanted. But it was getting harder, the mask I’d worn for so long slipping under the weight of their cruelty.

“Pathetic,” Talia sneered. “How long before Silas figures out what she really is? A liar with nothing to offer.”

A surge of anger burned in my chest, warring with the icy knot of shame coiled in my stomach. The whispers twisted, morphing from words into a cacophony of jeers and snickers that reverberated in my ears. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Is there a problem here?”

The hallway stilled as Gideon’s voice rolled out, deep and commanding. His presence was magnetic, drawing every eye as he stepped into view. He didn’t spare a glance for Violet or her friends, his focus locked entirely on me. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch, a sharp contrast to the casual amusement he usually wore.

Violet’s smirk faltered, replaced with a look of confusion and then defiance. “We’re just talking, Gideon. Nothing wrong with a little conversation, right?”

“Depends on the conversation,” Gideon replied, his voice low and calm, but there was a warning in it that made my pulse quicken. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine, as if silently asking if I was okay.

“Talking,” he repeated, as if testing the word. “Funny, sounded a lot like the kind of trash that wouldn’t be tolerated if you had an ounce of decency.” His eyes flicked to Violet, who bristled, her bravado deflating under his stare. “Try it again, and see what happens.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Violet and her friends exchanged looks before turning on their heels, the air crackling with unspoken defeat. They didn’t dare mutter another word as they disappeared around the corner, leaving only the thrum of my heartbeat and the awareness of Gideon standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly, the adrenaline still thrumming in my veins.

He exhaled, something like regret flickering in his eyes. “Yes, I did.”

Before I could process his words, he reached into his pocket and handed me a folded piece of paper. “Read it when you’re ready.” His voice was softer now, a hint of vulnerability threading through the usual confidence.

I stared at the note, the warmth of it sinking into my palm. By the time I looked up, he was already walking away, the crowd parting for him as he moved. The hallway felt emptier, quieter, as if he’d taken the noise and tension with him.

Back in my quarters, I sat on the edge of my bed, the crinkle of the paper echoing in the silence as I slid the first paper out of the envelope. With a deep breath, I unfolded it, my heart pounding as I took in the neat, deliberate handwriting.

“Mara,

I don’t know where to start, or if I even have the right to ask you to listen, but I need you to know. This is not an apology expecting forgiveness; it’s the truth that should have been yours long before now. I was cruel. I was blind to everything you were because it was easier than facing what that meant for me. You were strength, resilience, and everything I wasn’t brave enough to acknowledge, so I pushed you away. And in doing so, I lost you before I even had a chance to know what I could have gained.

I’m not asking you to forget the hurt I caused. I’m not that naïve. But I am asking for a chance to show you that I see you now. That I’m not the same Gideon who thought it was enough to stand by and watch you break under our words, our indifference.

You told me to prove it. This letter is only the beginning. The rest… the rest will be what I do next, if you let me.

Gideon.”

I pulled out the rest of the letters with trembling fingers, each one dated with moments I remembered all too well.

“September 15th – The day you challenged Professor Ludwig about elemental theory. I laughed with the others when he dismissed you, but inside I knew you were right. Your eyes blazed with conviction, and for a moment, I saw past the walls we’d built around you.

“October 3rd – You helped that first-year student when no one else would. I watched you piece her shattered crystal back together, spending hours teaching her the restoration spell. I should have stepped in when Summer mocked you for it. I didn’t.

“December 21st – The winter formal. You danced alone, but with such grace it took my breath away. I wanted to ask you for just one dance. Instead, I joined in with Xavier’s cruel jokes.”

The letters continued, each one peeling back layers of memories, showing me glimpses of myself through his eyes. He wrote about the way I commanded fire during rituals, how my magic sang with raw power that both terrified and fascinated him. He noticed how I always left coins for the spirits, the gentle way I treated even those who hurt me.

The final letter made my heart stutter.

“What I admire most is your resilience. Not just survival – anyone can survive. You thrive. You take the darkness thrown at you and transform it into something beautiful. Your strength isn’t in spite of your pain – it’s woven through it, like golden threads through shadow.

“I watch you now, carrying yourself with quiet dignity despite everything we did, everything I did. You’re not broken, Mara. You’re extraordinary. And I’ve been a fool not to see it sooner.”

My fingers traced over the ink-stained confessions, each word etched with regret and longing. The truth of his observation settled deep in my chest – not healing the old wounds, but offering something new alongside them.

The room blurred as I finished reading, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, not for him, not after everything. But the sincerity in his words, the weight of them, chipped at the walls I’d carefully rebuilt. He wasn’t asking for immediate forgiveness, wasn’t pretending that a few sentences could undo years of pain. He was acknowledging it, and that was more than I’d ever expected.

A noise outside the quarters made me jump, and I quickly tucked the letter under the blanket just as Silas walked in, eyes brightening when he saw me. He smiled, but it faltered when he caught the look on my face.

“Mara?” He stepped closer, concern etching his features as he sat beside me. “Are you okay?”

I took a shaky breath, nodding as I leaned into him, letting his warmth steady me. “Yeah. Just… processing.”

He wrapped an arm around me, his touch gentle and grounding. “Take your time. I’m here.”

I closed my eyes, letting myself believe it, if only for a moment.