Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 21

Chapter 21 – Christmas Ball
Zatariel's POV

Alright. So.

The most awaited Christmas Ball.

Supposed to be magical. Sparkly. Full of cringeworthy slow dances and dramatic confessions under fake snow. A night where everyone dresses up and pretends school life isn't slowly collapsing in suspiciously cinematic ways.

The event hall? Blinding. Literally.

LED lights tangled across the ceiling like we were trapped inside a giant snow globe. Gold ribbons, red drapes, glitter on every available surface. Someone definitely went overboard with the sparkle budget.

Laughter everywhere.
"Ha ha" here.
"Hee hee" there.

Give it an hour, and it'll turn into "huhu" in the parking lot.

If you're wondering about me?

Ohhh.

I may have organized this entire event.

But my eyes? They never left her.

Miexha Verra.

She was leaning against the Sweet Corner, casually stealing desserts. Hair loose. Soft waves falling down her back. Red dress. Simple. Elegant.

She looked like some kind of Christmas cupid.

And yeah. She shot the arrow.

Straight into my chest.

My heart did a triple backflip, landed wrong, and forgot how to be a heart. I am in serious trouble.

Then she smiled.

God. This is torture.

For one glorious, delusional second, I thought— She's smiling at me.

But no. It was just my imagination.

She was looking at Thyron.

Urrrggghh. Again.
He strutted up like some low-budget Christmas prince. 
She hugged him.
Oof. That hurts.

Emotional stab wound #1.

But the plot twist—he wasn't even there for her.
Five seconds later, he's dragging my cousin Aleanna to the dance floor, leaving Miexha alone in the corner.

The smile?Gone.

The spark in her eyes? Dimmed.

She looked like someone had reached into her chest and turned down the brightness.

Then she set her plate down. And slipped out of the hall.

Vanished.

I didn't think right for a second. 

The President's brain said: You can't leave. You're in charge. What if something goes wrong?

But the rest of me? Why would I care?

If the Ball turned into an apocalypse of broken heels, they could figure it out.

So, I followed Miexha.

She's in the garden. Alone.

Sitting on one of the stone benches, shoulders shaking.

She's crying.

And not the soft, pretty kind of crying. Just quiet, breaking-apart crying.

The kind that makes your chest ache like you're the one shattering.

The kind that makes you want to burn the whole world down just to stop it from hurting her.

My phone buzzed.