Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 115

Chapter 115 – The Girl Who Almost Gave Up

Miexha’s Point of View

Morning came.

Way too fast.

But I didn’t cry.

Victory.

Instead, I sat up. On my own. No Jayson yelling. No Asha ripping the blanket off like a vengeful storm god.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I got out of bed like a functioning human being.

That had to count for something.

I brushed my teeth. Washed my face. Pulled on my Wayne Academy uniform like I was starring in a commercial for “mentally stable girlies who pretend everything’s fine.”

I even brushed my hair. Twice.

Then I sat down at my desk, opened my tablet, and made a plan.

Like, a real one.

Schedules. Alarms. Color-coded reminders.
Math review? ✔
Lunch location? Somewhere Ofreigha-less. ✔
Avoid Zatariel’s hallway zone? Starred and circled.

This was how I’d become the New Me.
Not a sobbing, spoiled, bottom-ranking, hearing-aid-wearing liability—
But someone who tried.

Someone who at least tried to earn her place.

I took a deep breath.

And for the first time in days…
I smiled.

“Okay, Miexha Verra,” I whispered to the mirror. “Time to live your own life.”

I stood tall, hands on hips, pretending I had a cape.

“Who needs Zatariel, anyway?” I scoffed. “He already has his perfect, cheer-captain, future-lawyer, human-highlighter girlfriend. Congrats to them.”

I flipped my hair.

“One day, I’ll fall in love again. With someone way hotter. With abs. Not shadows. Real ones.”

I nodded solemnly. “He’ll be gentle. Loving. He’ll write songs with me. Bring me flowers. And I’ll marry him. Have… four babies. Maybe five. Six if I survive.”

I clutched my pillow and spun dramatically like a Disney princess warming up her coping mechanisms.

“I’ll perform in concert halls. Win Grammys. Inspire a tragic Oscar-nominated film about my life.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

Then—
A cough.

I froze mid-spin.

Turned slowly.

Jayson.

Leaning against the doorway, eyebrow arched, coffee in hand.

“Keep dreaming, Verra,” he muttered. Then walked off.

I screamed into my pillow.
Full-on ragdoll collapse.

“WHYYYYYYYYY—”

I lay there in humiliation purgatory for ten full minutes.

Then sat up.

And blinked.

Maybe it was the lighting. Or the lip gloss. Or the fact that my hair didn’t resemble a tornado casualty today…

But I didn’t hate my reflection.

I wasn’t going for Ofreigha-levels of divine, obviously. No one pulls off goddess-core like her without literal divine intervention.