Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 113

Miexha point of view

Lunch Break – Wayne Academy Cafeteria

Why is it always like this?

Same table. Same solo lunch. Same lukewarm soup that somehow tastes like guilt. I stir it half-heartedly, watching the carrots spin like they've got somewhere better to be. A

Wayne Academy's cafeteria hums with extra sparkle today—cheerier than usual. I already know why.

Ofreigha Sebastian.

Red hair, red lip gloss, red flags. She walks like she owns the place—which is ironic, because technically, my grandfather does. But nobody cares about old money when they're too busy worshipping her cheer captain energy, her shiny grades, her unfairly perfect proportions.

She's my age. Same year. Same class. And yet somehow, everything about her says main character energy. And here I am—background music.

I bite into my overpriced organic sandwich (thanks, maid), and that's when the clapping starts.

Of course.

I look up. I shouldn't. But I do.

There she is—Ofreigha, spotlighted by the cafeteria her hand is laced with someone else's.

Zatariel Wov.

Tall, unreadable, cold as a marble statue dipped in sarcasm. My tutor. My seatmate.  He used to eat lunch here. With me. Before she looped him into her orbit like a planet with VIP access.

"Everyone!" Ofreigha announces, voice sugar-laced and loud.
"Just to make it official—Zatariel and I are dating!"

More cheers. A burst of confetti. Confetti. No, seriously—who keeps confetti in their bag?

She leans into him. He stands there, stoic as ever—but doesn't let go.

That's the part that stings.

The quiet pressure behind my ribs isn't heartbreak. Not exactly. It's... displacement. A whispering ache that asks, What about me?

I stabbed a baby carrot with unnecessary force. It flipped off my plate.

Whatever.

A shadow falls over my tray. I look up, expecting a janitor or maybe a drone server.

It's Jayson Dom.

Six-foot teen heartache in messy hair and a camera strap. He hands me a tissue for the spill I didn't notice, doesn't say anything, just casually dabs at my juice box mess like it's his part-time job.

"Thanks," I mumble.

He doesn't smile. Just slumps into the seat across from me like gravity finally won.

"Sulking again?" I ask.

"Mm." He stared at his untouched rice meal, poking it like it owed him money.
"It's official now."

I don't have to ask. My eyes drift—against my will—back to Ofreigha and Zatariel.

Jayson sniffed like he was trying not to cry.
"I helped him. I actually begged him," he said under his breath.
"I told Zatariel to try dating her."

I blinked at him. "You... what?"

"I thought... if he dated her, maybe she'd be happy." He sniffs, blinking fast.
"I just wanted her to stop crying."

This boy. This boy who gets straight A's, who carries his last name like a throne—crying over someone who doesn't even look his way.

And then, something pinged in my brain. A memory. A stupid one. From last week.