Ice & Prejudice

Chapter 21

Nik's POV:

As I stood outside Victoria's door, I took a moment to brace myself. Normally, these tutoring sessions were a real battle—a game I admittedly enjoyed far more than I should. She had a knack for making me feel like an idiot, and I had a knack for making sure she knew I wasn't going to back down. It was all part of our twisted little dynamic.

But when she opened the door, I was caught off guard.

Victoria didn't greet me with her usual eye roll or annoyed sigh. She didn't even bother to glare at me like I'd personally offended her by showing up, or just simply existing. Instead, she just stood there, looking like a shadow of herself.

The first thing I noticed was how tired she looked. Dark circles smudged under her eyes, and they were red and puffy, like she'd been crying. Her usual sharpness was dulled, her eyes almost lifeless. She was wearing these huge, dark lounge pants that dragged across the floor, completely covering her feet, and a worn out striped sweater that hung on her like it was swallowing her whole. Her hair was piled into a messy bun that looked like it hadn't seen a brush in days.

This was not the Victoria Winters I was used to. Victoria was always put together, always ready to take me down a peg or two with a single glance. But today, she looked like she could barely hold herself up, let alone engage in our usual banter.

I couldn't resist. It's in my nature. "Rough night, Winters? You look like you got into a fight with a laundry basket and lost."

Usually, a comment like that would earn me a withering glare or some cutting remark about how I should be grateful she even lets me breathe the same air as her. But this time, nothing. She didn't even flinch. She just turned around and walked back into the apartment, leaving the door open for me to follow.

Well, that was weird. Even weirder was how that lack of reaction made me feel. It wasn't satisfaction—I didn't get the usual thrill of getting under her skin. No, this was... unsettling. She wasn't acting like herself, and it threw me off balance.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and followed her into the living room. The place was a mess, which was also out of character for Victoria. The coffee table was cluttered with papers, her notebook, and her laptop, all scattered around like she'd been too tired to care.

"Sit down," she said flatly, not even looking at me as she dropped onto the couch.

No snide comment about wasting her time, no lecture on how I should take this more seriously. Not even a 'hello'. Just a simple, exhausted command. I sat down, watching her carefully. What the hell was going on with her?

She picked up her notebook, flipping through it with trembling hands. She looked smaller than usual, like the energy that usually made her so intimidating was drained out of her. This was starting to feel wrong, like I'd walked into a situation I wasn't prepared for.

"We're covering memory reconsolidation today," she said in a monotone voice. "It's the process by which a memory, once recalled, can be altered and then re-stored in the brain."

I stared at her, trying to figure out what was happening. She wasn't explaining it with her usual passion or precision. There were no hand gestures, no emphasis on key points, nothing to suggest she cared about what she was saying. She was just... reciting the information like a robot.

"Memory reconsolidation," she continued, her voice flat and lifeless, "is important because it shows that our memories are not static. They can be modified after the fact, either strengthened or weakened depending on subsequent experiences."

She kept talking, but I wasn't really listening anymore. I was too focused on how off she seemed. She kept fidgeting with the edges of her notebook, her fingers trembling slightly. That's when I noticed her nails. They were chipped, the burgundy polish nearly scratched off completely. There was dried blood around her cuticles, like she'd been picking at them—something I'd never seen her do before.