At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Lalia Azali hides more than most. She's not just a surgeon-she's this universe's Scarlet Witch, a title whispered with fear and awe, tied to a power she never wanted and a fate she can't outrun.
Logan sees t...
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- Lalia
The ride back to the school was long and silent, the kind of silence that felt heavy but necessary. Logan drove with the windows down, letting the cool night air fill the truck. The stars above were bright, almost too bright, making it hard to focus on anything but the guilt gnawing at my insides.
I kept my eyes on the road ahead, occasionally glancing at Logan. He didn't say a word, and in a way, I was thankful for it. Talking felt impossible right now, and his silence was a strange kind of comfort.
I thought about what Logan had said to me, about not walking away. His words had cut through the fog of my emotions, giving me something solid to hold onto. I felt a mix of gratitude and guilt. Gratitude for his presence, for not giving up on me, and guilt for even considering leaving in the first place. But I knew he was right. I couldn't just walk away, not now, not ever.
The drive seemed to stretch on forever, the landscape blurring into a dark, endless expanse. Eventually, we pulled up to the school. Logan parked the truck and got out, moving with that same rugged efficiency he always had. He grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and walked around to my side, opening the door for me.
I stepped out, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. We began walking towards the doors, the school loomed ahead, its familiar silhouette both comforting and daunting. We walked in silence, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel under Logan's boots and the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
As we approached the doors, I felt a lump form in my throat. This place had been my home, my sanctuary, and now it felt like a battleground. He pushed open the door and held it for me, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. There was no need for words; his actions spoke louder than anything he could have said. We walked through the halls, the familiar sights and sounds of the school wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
The Professor began to approach me with that gentle smile, I felt a mix of relief and warmth in his eyes. "I see you've decided to stay after all," he said softly, his voice filled with understanding and patience.
I returned his smile, though guilt weighed heavy on my heart. "I'm sorry for trying to leave without saying goodbye," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what else to do. But I'm grateful that you allowed me to make my own choice."
His smile widened, and he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Welcome back, Lalia," he said warmly. His gaze then shifted to Logan, who stood a few steps behind me, his expression as stoic as ever. The Professor mouthed a silent "thank you" to Logan, thinking I wouldn't notice, but I did.
Logan gave a barely perceptible nod in response, his eyes meeting the Professor's for a brief moment. He then turned his attention back to me. "Let's get your stuff to your room."
I nodded, and we walked in silence through the dimly lit halls of the school, the only sounds being the soft thud of our footsteps and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. A strange sense of calm washed over me, the kind that only came from being in a place that felt like home, surrounded by people who cared.
