Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 48

Chapter 48
Zatariel's Point of View

It was official.

My life was a tragic play written by a drunk playwright with a personal grudge against pretty boys.

I should've been at home by now, snuggled in bed, overthinking like a responsible teenager with unresolved feelings.

But no.

Asha, the walking disaster I call my best friend, insisted I sleep over at their house.

"Let's bond," she said.
"You love the Dom Mansion," she said.
"Your room has already been prepared," she said.

Well.

Here I was.

In my prepared room. In the Dom Mansion. Two doors down from the girl I'm hopelessly in love with.

Fantastic.

I sighed and flopped face-first onto the bed.

Regret had officially become my love language.

I regretted talking to Miexha. I regretted falling for her stupid, perfect smile. I regretted having a heart at all—because clearly, I wasn't built for this level of emotional damage.

So, in an act of desperate self-preservation and because the room felt suffocating with feelings, I escaped to my favorite place.

The rose garden.

The Dom Mansion garden was the only place in this house that didn't make me want to punch something out of jealousy.

I opened the door, ready to walk into the therapeutic embrace of overpriced landscaping—

—and stopped.

Jayson was sitting outside Miexha's room. Slouched against the wall as he'd just witnessed something deeply traumatic.

His face was red. Not cute, shy red.

More like "sunburned in shame" red.

I walked over and stood in front of him.

He didn't move.

"...You good there, Jay?" I asked carefully.

No response.

I crouched closer.

His eyes were wide. His breathing is uneven. The guy looked like his brain had short-circuited.

Then, in the voice of a man who had seen horrors beyond comprehension, he whispered:

"She's evil."

I blinked. "...She? Who—Miexha?"

He nodded immediately. Dead serious.

"She's evil," he repeated. "I can't do this. I'm going to die. I almost died in there."

"...From what?" I asked. "Affection?"

"No," he groaned. "There's no way—no way—I'm falling for that little devil."

"Oh no," I said dramatically, mostly relieved.

"She said it was for practice!" he whisper-yelled. "Practice! She's so—so tiny and innocent but fearless and evil!"

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing.

"Practice?" I asked. "Practice of what? Being a husband? A wife?"

Jayson groaned. He didn't even answer directly—just kept rambling.

"Her face was like, 'This is normal.' Nothing about it was normal. She's not normal. I panicked. I threw a blanket at her and ran."