Sebastian Ashford's POV
I knew she was back the second the cafeteria fell quiet.
It wasn't the kind of quiet you expect in a hospital corridor before a code blue.
It was the worse kind.
The whisper-coated, throat-clearing kind—the kind that sounds like pity disguised as curiosity.
I didn't even have to look up.
I just heard it.
"She actually showed up?"
"That bun makes her look like she hasn't slept in a century."
"Is that Rain Wang? Damn, she used to be... kind of pretty."
"Still wearing that sad little white coat. She looks like she borrowed it from a ghost."
My hand clenched around the paper cup. The coffee inside sloshed slightly, lid clicking.
I looked up.
And there she was.
Rain.
Hair twisted into a messy, tired knot.
No eyeliner. No gloss. No silk. No quiet grace.
Just oversized sleeves, gray shadows under her eyes, and a tray with one apple and a bottle of water.
That's all she had.
One apple.
After a week of being gone.
She sat at the far end of the table, near the vending machine. Alone. Of course. Not a single first year dared sit with her.
I watched her pick at the apple with her fingers like it might scream if she bit into it.
She didn't even eat. Just... peeled. Slowly. Like her hands weren't steady enough to grip a fork.
My chest felt tight. Irrational. Suffocating.
"She hasn't been the same," someone behind me whispered.
"Maybe the rumors were right. Maybe he broke her."
I didn't turn.
I didn't need to ask who he was.
The chair beside me scraped back. Ava sat down. Her tray had actual food. Sandwich, juice, some bright salad I couldn't name.
"You're staring again," she said, not looking up from her phone. "That's not helping."
"She's not eating."
"She's not talking, either," Ava added. "Not to anyone."
I watched Rain lower her eyes as two second years walked past her table and laughed. One of them mimicked her old graceful walk. The other said something about her hair looking like it had been "attacked by med school stress."
Rain didn't even flinch.
She was gone.
Still sitting there, but gone.
I used to joke that she reminded me of a lost puppy.
Now she looked like something after it's been kicked too many times. Fragile. Muted. Dangerous in the way that makes your guilt crawl up your throat and beg for a second chance.
I stood up.
Ava grabbed my sleeve. "Sebastian. Don't. You'll make it worse."
I shook her off.
Rain didn't see me.
Didn't look up.
Didn't touch the apple.
But I watched her hand tremble, just once, before she folded it in her lap.
Like even peeling something was too much.
And for the first time in two years of top scores, perfect diagnoses, and flawless dissections—
I didn't know what to do.
I just knew I was the reason the light in her eyes had gone out.
---
Rain Wang's POV
I told myself to just breathe.
Peel the apple. Eat one slice. Pretend no one's watching.
But I could feel it—
the air thinning around me, the whispers curling like smoke.
"She looks like a ghost."
"Why is she even here?"
"Do you think she's on something?"
"Did you see her wrist tremble? Shaking like a freak."
I kept my eyes on the table.
If I didn't look up, maybe they'd forget I existed. Maybe if I just sat still, I'd disappear into the linoleum.
My fingers pinched the apple skin too hard. It slipped. Hit the tray.
My breathing quickened. My palms were sweating.
I could hear a phone camera click.
And then—
A shadow.
A taller, broader shadow falling across my tray.
I knew it before I looked up.
Knew it from the way my body froze, knew it from the familiar scent of something expensive and cold—cedar, mint, arrogance.
Sebastian Ashford.
My throat closed. My heart kicked. My hands trembled harder.
I kept my eyes on the tray.
He didn't say anything right away.
The cafeteria had gone quiet again.
Someone whispered, "Oh my god, he's walking over—"
Another voice hissed, "Record this. Now."
I heard a phone tap. A video starting.
He still said nothing.
I felt my spine straighten like a reflex. Fight or flight.
But I couldn't fly.
So I froze.
His voice, when it came, was low. Dangerous.
But not mocking. Not this time.
"Rain."
Just my name.
Like it meant something. Like it didn't belong in the mouth of the person who shattered it.
I looked up, finally.
Just once.
His eyes locked on mine—and I couldn't breathe.
Not because he was beautiful.
Not because he was him.
But because I remembered. All at once.
The hallway laughter.
The comments about my hair.
The whisper he made about me "trying too hard to look rich" when I wore my favorite ivory dress.
The time he said I looked like a doll no one wanted anymore.
The time he made me cry.
And now—he stood here.
Close enough for everyone to see.
"What do you want?" I managed. My voice cracked like glass under pressure.
He didn't answer.
People whispered louder.
"Is he going to apologize?"
"Doubt it."
"Maybe he finally feels bad."
"She looks like she's about to pass out."
I did.
Because Sebastian didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just stared.
And my body did what it always does around him now—
it panicked.
My legs scraped the chair as I stood too fast.
The tray rattled. The apple rolled.
I didn't pick it up.
I didn't look back.
I just ran.
I heard someone laugh. A phone beeped again. Someone muttered, "Poor thing."
But I didn't stop.
Because nothing in the world scared me like Sebastian Ashford standing near me with silence in his eyes and a thousand unsaid things behind his tongue.