Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – The Boy in Second Place

The gym was empty now. The sound of bouncing balls and squeaky shoes had faded into silence.

Thyron Sebastian stood near the bleachers, holding a half-crushed bottle of warm water. Sweat still clung to his arms from practice, but the tight feeling in his chest wasn't from exercise.

From the open gym doors, he could see across the quad.

Miexha Wayne stepped out of the music room, sunlight catching in her soft brown hair. She paused near the art club window.

And then—

She smiled.

Not at nothing.

At someone.

Zatariel Wov walked past. The golden-haired genius. Calm. Effortless. Always at the top of everything.

And like something straight out of a romance anime, Miexha eyes on him.

Not just a glance but a soft, glowing look.

The kind Thyron wished she would give him.

They had known each other since childhood. He had always been there—steady, patient and dependable. Even considered one of her future groom candidates by her family.

He stayed kind. Always been careful.

He told himself he'd be the strong one. The safe choice.

But right now?

It felt like none of that mattered.

She looked at Zatariel like he was the center of her world.

Thyron's jaw tightened.

It wasn't new. Losing to Zatariel never was.

He remembered every time he had come always the third placer. 

Kindergarten spelling bee—Zatariel first, Jayson second, Thyron third.

Grade school math olympiad—Zatariel gold, Jayson missed by one point, Thyron missed by two.

Last year—Thyron became Athlete of the Year. A huge achievement supposed to be.

But Zatariel swept seven academic awards and made front-page news.

And Jayson? Accepted as a top cadet in a military academy that made huge blow in the entire nation.

No matter how hard Thyron pushed—

He was always behind.

The water bottle crumpled in his fist.

He walked away.

At the Sebastian Residence

His room was dark, lit only by the cold glow of his computer screen.

Thyron slowly scrolled through Wayne Academy's media archive.

One post stood out. An award-winning painting.

The girl in it was unmistakable.

Miexha.

Soft colors. Warm light. The way she was painted felt almost personal.

Signed: Zatariel Wov.

Thyron clicked the image open and stared at it.

A slow, bitter smile formed.

"So that's your move, Wov."

His phone suddenly pinged.