Scarlett's (POV)
It was past midnight again.
The blankets felt too heavy. The silence—too loud.
I lay there, staring at the canopy above my bed, arms hugging the pillow he used to sleep on. His scent had faded, replaced by emptiness. No heartbeat beside mine. No warmth wrapping around my back.
No Noah.
My chest ached, an ache deeper than any wound I'd ever suffered.
For weeks, I'd trained with him. Fought beside him. Slept in his arms. And just like that, he vanished with the Headmaster, leaving only a short note and the lingering weight of his presence.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
Training feels dull without him. My blades don't sing the same. Even my shadows feel slower—he made me sharper just by being near. It's strange how someone's presence becomes your rhythm… and when they're gone, the world loses its beat.
I toss and turn.
And when sleep finally comes, I dream of the first time he said my name gently. Not as a comrade. Not as a mission partner.
But as Scarlett.
Layla's (POV)
I'm not crying.
Nope. Not again.
I kicked the pillow to the floor, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes.
I hate this.
I hate how quiet it is. I hate how the bed feels like a cold coffin. I hate how no one is here to scold me when I steal his snacks or sneak into his room uninvited.
I hug his shirt tighter. I haven't washed it in weeks because it still smells like him—warmth and steel and just a hint of trouble. Gods, I miss that stupid look he gives me when I call him "hubby" just to see him fluster.
It's funny. Everyone sees me as the playful one. The chaotic one. But I'm the one who can't sleep unless I'm holding onto him like a lifeline. Without him, the nights stretch on forever. Like they're laughing at me.
Even teasing Scarlett isn't fun anymore. I don't even feel like threatening to poison her tea. That's how bad it is.
Noah, you idiot. Come back soon or I'll really break something.
Or someone.
Lyra's (POV)
Sleep used to be peaceful.
Now it's a battleground.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the frost forming on the windows. It's colder than usual. Or maybe that's just me. My magic reflects my emotions sometimes.
It's embarrassing how much I notice his absence. His voice used to annoy me. His smug little smirks. His dumb jokes. But now?
Now I crave even those.
I find myself walking past his door like a ghost. Pausing. Listening.
Nothing.
Not even a heartbeat.
Tch.
I swore I didn't need anyone. I was fine alone.
But the moment he vanished, something in me unraveled.
He changed something in me. Not forcefully. Not obviously.
Like… gentle erosion. Quiet and persistent.
And now, every night, I sit in this icebox of a room, clutching the book he once recommended, waiting for a knock that never comes.
Julia's (POV)
I leaned against the hallway wall, sipping my tea, watching the three girls move around the mansion like haunted dolls.
Scarlett was trying to train too hard, too fast. Layla was quieter than I'd ever thought possible. And Lyra? She spent more time staring at closed doors than at her spellbooks.
All three of them looked like someone had stolen the sun.
And all because of one little idiot named Noah.
I chuckled into my cup.
"You'd think he left them for war, not training," Richard muttered beside me.
I nudged his arm. "To them, it is war. The war of love."
He groaned.
I smiled.
Scarlett passed us by, her footsteps sluggish. Layla was curled on the sofa in the lounge, fidgeting with a silver ring Noah gave her. Lyra stood by the window, arms crossed, but her reflection in the glass betrayed her—eyes a little red, lips a little too pressed.
"They look like widows," Richard whispered.
"Don't say that," I whispered back. "It's tragic and hilarious."
He sighed. "You're going to tease them, aren't you?"
"Oh, absolutely."
Julia's POV — Later That Evening
I found all three girls in the drawing room, sitting in uncomfortable silence. Perfect timing.
"So," I said with a smile, "which one of you is going to break first and write him a love letter?"
Scarlett turned bright red. Lyra shot me a glare. Layla raised her hand instantly.
"I already did," she said. "Ten, actually. I burned eight. Still deciding on the other two."
Scarlett groaned and covered her face with a pillow.
"Do you want me to sneak them into his luggage when he comes back?" I teased.
"No!" Scarlett protested.
"Sure," Layla grinned. "But only if you add perfume."
Lyra rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched—just a little.
They were hurting, yes. But they weren't broken.
They were waiting.
And that meant they still had hope.
Richard's (POV)
I walked into Noah's room late that night.
It was neat. Too neat. He wasn't here to mess it up.
I placed my hand on his desk, staring at the swords hung on the wall, the books he never returned, the small gifts the girls had given him—some hidden under his pillow, like he didn't want anyone to see them.
He never said it, but I know why he left.
He wants to protect them.
He wants to earn the right to stand beside them.
That's what a man does.
I closed the door gently.
"Come back strong, son."
-to be continued...