Selene’s POV
The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the architecture studio, streaks of gold stretching across the drafting table like fingers pointing to my past, present, and whatever future I was building at Hillwood. The hum of quiet chatter and the scratch of pencils on paper were oddly soothing. I was alone in my corner, my digital tablet spread with schematics, scrolling through the blueprints of my latest design proposal—Hillwood’s new Student Innovation Pavilion.
Lines, measurements, material textures… it should’ve felt routine. But every curve I adjusted, every shadow I highlighted, reminded me I wasn’t just designing a building.
I was proving I belonged.
I zoomed in on a section of the rooftop garden space and adjusted the slope of the rainwater collection system. Efficient. Sleek. Sustainable. Just like I pitched. The proposal was due in three days. And knowing Hillwood, the panel would include not just professors—but also alumni investors, donors, maybe even Sebastian himself.
My fingers paused.
Sebastian.
No matter how much I tried to compartmentalize, he kept creeping into my thoughts. Like now.
I thought he’d stop after the cafeteria incident. Thought maybe it was guilt. Or just a public show of dominance. But it wasn’t. He kept… caring. In his quiet, watchful way.
Two days ago, I’d walked into the common study hall to find my preferred drafting table already prepped with the materials I needed. Nobody else used that space. And I hadn’t told anyone what I needed.
But somehow, he had known.
I’d confronted him about it later—half-joking, half-testing.
“All those observation skills wasted on club management,” I had said, arms crossed.
He’d only shrugged. “I pay attention.”
Just three words.
But they’d stayed with me longer than they should have.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, letting the stylus rest against the edge of the tablet. My reflection stared back at me faintly from the dark glass screen—eyes tired, hair tied up in a loose bun, Sebastian’s black shirt still folded neatly in my  dresser back at my home .
I hadn’t returned it.
He hadn’t asked.
And I didn’t know why that mattered so much.
There was a knock at the studio door, soft but certain. I turned.
Speak of the devil.
Sebastian stepped in, not bothering to scan the room. His eyes found me instantly. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look cold either. Neutral, curious.
“Figured you’d be here,” he said, stepping closer with his hands in the pockets of his tailored coat. “It’s almost dinner.”
I blinked. “Is it? I didn’t even realize.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the tablet. “Still working on your proposal?”
“Yep. Final render pass. Making sure the solar alignment’s accurate.”
He leaned in slightly, inspecting the screen without touching it. “You’re using dual-axis trackers for the panels?”
“Thinking about it,” I said. “Costs more, but improves efficiency by twenty percent.”
Sebastian nodded. “Impressive. This’ll get approved.”
I stared at him. “You sound certain.”
“I am.”
A quiet moment passed. The kind that should feel awkward, but didn’t.
Then, I asked the question that had been brewing for days. “Why are you being so… nice to me?”
His brow lifted slightly. “You say that like it’s a flaw.”
“It’s unexpected.”
Sebastian exhaled through his nose, almost amused. “You passed the test, Selene. You’re one of us now.”
“That didn’t stop other clubs specifically the Glam Girls Club who I think hate me from the very beginning of my admission here.”
“They don’t matter.”
“Maybe not to you.”
He took a step back, the mood shifting slightly. Not colder—but more cautious.
“You think I’m pretending?” he asked, tone low.
“I think… I don’t know what to think,” I admitted. “You didn’t trust me at first. And now, it’s like you’re always watching. Helping. Showing up.”
“I haven’t stopped watching,” he said, voice steady. “I’m just not looking for reasons to get rid of you anymore.”
I froze.
He’d said it so plainly. No apology. No pretense.
“You wanted me gone,” I said slowly.
He didn’t deny it.
“At first,” he confirmed. “You were a wildcard. An unknown. I don’t like unknowns.”
“But now?”
“Now,” he said, “you’re the only person who’s surprised you’re here.”
The weight of his words hung in the air between us. Heavy. Real.
I looked away first, back to my design. “I’ll finish this later.”
“Good,” he said, already turning toward the door. “Dinner’s better when you’re not starving.”
We walked side by side down the corridor of the design building, footsteps echoing in quiet rhythm. For once, he didn’t walk faster. Didn’t try to outpace me. We moved together.
Outside, the campus buzzed with life—sun dipping, lights blinking on, students hurrying across pathways. I clutched my tablet close, not because I was afraid, but because it grounded me.
At the dining hall, we were met with familiar faces. Lucas waved from across the room. Lana and Irene were deep in conversation near the salad bar. Even Maya gave me a nod of recognition.
I wasn’t invisible anymore.
I was Selene Parker.
Member of the Hillwood Investment Club.
Contributor to the university’s next major project.
And—for better or worse—someone Sebastian Ford had decided to stand beside.
As I sat across from him at the table, trading quiet comments about food choices and terrible professor impressions, I realized something terrifying.
He wasn’t just letting me in.
He was letting me matter.
And that… changed everything.