Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 68

Chapter 68 - Still Learning How to Be Real

Miexha's Point of View

I sat on my bed with the report card trembling in my hands.

It shook like a leaf.

Like me.

Like everything inside me was made of glass, ready to shatter from the slightest whisper.

The numbers were... terrible.

No.

They were catastrophic.

Math: Fail.
History: Fail.
Science: barely clinging to the edge of passing.
Even Language—my one comfort—was streaked with red ink like it had bled disappointment all over the page.

I pressed the corner of the paper against my lips, trying to trap the sobs before they escaped.

But my breath hitched. And then the tears came.

For a moment, I wanted to rip the paper into tiny pieces.

But I didn't. Because even if I tore it apart and burned the ashes, the truth would remain.

I'm not enough.

Not for this school or for the Dom family.

Not for a world that measures a person's worth through grades, test scores, and quick-thinking brilliance.

And especially...

Not for him.

Zatariel.

His name had floated at the very top of the freshman scoreboard again this morning.

Of course it had.

He belonged there.

I was barely on the board.

Buried at the bottom.

Dead last.

A failure.

Maybe...

Maybe this was fate's way of being fair. Keeping us on opposite sides of the world.

I curled deeper into my pillows and let the paper slip from my fingers.

The more I cried, the heavier my chest became.

Like shame had folded itself into bricks and stacked them carefully on my lungs.

It made me feel stupid.

Like every polished curtsy, every flawless violin recital, every delicate etiquette lesson in Madame Lirra's salon meant absolutely nothing here.

Not in the real world.

I was trained for ballroom dances.

For elegant letters written in perfect calligraphy.

For music and art.

For arranging flowers and pouring tea without spilling a single drop.

And now...

The faculty wants to speak with my guardians.

Again.

Another meeting.

Another embarrassment.

Another problem delivered neatly to the Dom family.

They didn't sign up for a liability.

They signed up for a future partner to the president's son.

And I can't even survive seventh grade.

I hugged my pillow tighter and buried my face into it, letting it swallow the broken, ugly sounds trying to escape my throat.