The autumn breeze was sharp as Melissa sat alone by the old fountain on campus, the soft trickle of water somehow louder than the chaos in her mind. She clutched her jacket tighter, staring down at the damp stone under her boots.
So much had changed so quickly. Too quickly.
Dayne's words from earlier circled in her head like vultures.
"Don't let him mess with you again."
"You deserve better."
Better.
Melissa almost laughed bitterly.
Did she even deserve anything after the fool she made of herself back then?
A shadow flickered over her.
Melissa tensed instinctively, but relaxed a little when she saw it was Dayne.
"Hey," he said, sitting a careful distance away, not touching her but close enough to feel his presence. "You just ran off. I got worried."
"I'm fine," Melissa replied automatically, voice low.
"You don't look fine."
His voice was light, but she caught the worry underneath.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick, heavy with things neither dared say.
Dayne shifted, looking at her sideways.
"Can I ask something?" he said finally.
Melissa nodded, unsure if she really wanted to hear it.
"Is it... because of Alec?"
The name hit her like a slap.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Of course it was about Alec. Even after everything, his existence still managed to ruin her peace.
"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered.
Dayne let out a slow breath, nodding. He leaned back on his hands, staring at the clouds above.
"Okay," he said simply. "But just so you know, if you ever want to talk... or scream... or punch someone... I'm available."
That pulled a small laugh out of her before she could stop it.
She turned to look at him — really look at him.
The easy smile. The kindness radiating from him without asking anything in return.
He wasn't trying to "fix" her. He was just there.
Her heart twisted painfully.
She didn't deserve someone like Dayne.
"Thank you," she said softly, voice almost lost to the wind.
His eyes caught hers then, and for a second, Melissa forgot how to breathe.
There was something in his gaze — something new.
A protectiveness, yes, but something else too.
Something... deeper.
Melissa looked away quickly, cheeks burning.
She shouldn't be thinking things like that.
Not when her heart was still a battlefield full of broken pieces.
Later that evening, Melissa found herself wandering to the music building almost without thinking.
Her feet moved on their own, guided by something older than memory.
The grand piano stood alone on the small stage of the practice hall, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun through the stained-glass windows.
It looked almost magical.
Slowly, hesitantly, Melissa approached.
Her fingers hovered above the keys for a long moment before finally pressing down.
A soft note rang out, pure and sad.
Another.
Another.
Soon, a melody poured from her — soft, broken, beautiful.
Her heart translated into music.
She closed her eyes and played — played like she hadn't in years.
Each note was a confession.
Each pause was a sob she refused to let out.
She didn't notice the door creak open.
Didn't notice the footsteps approaching.
Not until a familiar voice, low and rough, broke the spell.
"I didn't know you still played."
Melissa's hands froze on the keys.
Her heart stopped.
She knew that voice.
Slowly, she turned — and there he was.
Alec.
Standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking impossibly tall and heartbreakingly handsome in the dying light.
His brown eyes were darker than she remembered.
Sadder.
Or maybe she was just imagining it.
Melissa's throat dried up. She stood, stepping back from the piano like it had burned her.
Alec moved closer, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.
"I heard you were good," he said, voice low. "Back in school. But I never... I never really heard you play."
Melissa crossed her arms over her chest, heart thudding painfully.
"Why are you here?" she managed to ask.
Alec shrugged, looking strangely vulnerable. "I was walking by. Heard the music. It... pulled me in."
Silence stretched between them, taut and full of all the words they never said.
"I never apologized," Alec said finally, voice raw.
Melissa flinched.
"You shouldn't have to," she whispered.
"But I should," he insisted. "I was a coward. I... hurt you. And you didn't deserve that."
Melissa looked at him then — really looked.
For a moment, she saw not the boy who crushed her heart, but the boy who looked like he was carrying his own mountain of regrets.
Alec took a step closer.
Melissa backed away instinctively, bumping into the piano.
The air between them crackled.
For a wild second, Melissa didn't know if she wanted to slap him or kiss him or cry in his arms.
She hated him.
She missed him.
She feared him.
She wanted him.
It was all too much.
"I have to go," she muttered, grabbing her bag.
"Melissa—" Alec called after her, but she didn't turn around.
She couldn't.
Because if she did...
She wasn't sure what would happen.
And some storms were too dangerous to walk into unprepared.