CHAPTER 7

Several days had passed since the stormy day of the report—a day seared into Laiza's memory as one of scrutiny, anger, and unveiled cruelty. The echoes of her family's fury still clung to her like a bitter shadow. That day, Laiza had announced with calm defiance that she would not allow her younger sister, Stella, to claim the prestigious scholarship she had worked so tirelessly to earn.

Her declaration was met with an explosion. Her parents, staunch and unyielding in their favouritism toward Stella, hurled insults at her like poisoned daggers. Her older brothers joined in, their jeers sharp and mocking, adding weight to the verbal assault. The climax came when her mother, usually composed, lost control and struck her. The slap rang in the air, stinging more than just Laiza's cheek.

Yet Laiza stood resolute, her face a mask of detached calm even as her heart burned with anguish. Her voice, soft and measured, broke through the cacophony of their anger, silencing them. "Why should I give it to her?" she said, her tone as cold as steel. "We both sat for the exams. She chose to leave her paper blank, expecting me to hand over what I've worked for. You thought I'd bend, didn't you? Pretending to care, pretending to be a family, when all you do is use me. You all thought I was stupid. Well, I'm not."

Her low, even tone carried more weight than shouting ever could, chilling the room. Stella flinched visibly as Laiza waved the results in her face, the paper trembling slightly in her grip. "If you wanted it so badly, dear sister, then perhaps you should have worked for it instead of waiting for me to hand it to you. Or does the mighty Stella fear her brain will explode if she tries reading? Shocking, truly." Her words dripped with venom, her pale, unwavering gaze cutting through Stella's teary facade.

Laiza drew a breath, steadying herself before delivering the final blow. "I've already made my decision. Uncle Tim's nephew, Aiden, will take the spot as my partner. I gave my word, and I don't break promises—not for you, not for anyone. Goodbye." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of her father's study, leaving behind stunned silence and seething resentment.

Upstairs, in the solitude of her room, Laiza's resolve cracked. She slumped against the door, her legs giving way as tears spilled freely down her flushed cheeks. The weight of their hatred, the cruelty of her own family, felt unbearable. They shared the same blood yet treated her like an outsider—a pawn to be used and discarded. Why? What had she done to deserve this?

Minutes ticked by as she cried silently, her tears soaking into her trembling hands. Finally, she wiped her face, took the results, and carefully hid them in a place only she knew. With shaky determination, she turned to her laptop, her heart leaping as she checked her mail. But Crestwood's acceptance list wasn't out yet. Disappointment pressed down on her, but she forced herself to move. She couldn't stay in the house with Stella throwing another of her tantrums, surrounded by their parents' doting attention.

Downstairs, she saw the spectacle unfolding: Stella crying crocodile tears while her family fawned over her like she was the victim. Laiza sighed, heading for the door, but her Uncle Tim stopped her. His weathered face bore concern as he asked her softly, "Are you certain about this? Letting my nephew take the spot instead of your sister? She's family, Laiza. Family should come first."

Laiza smiled faintly, though her eyes remained unreadable. "Yes, Uncle. I'm certain. I've made my decision, and I won't change it. Please don't worry." With that, she stepped out into the crisp evening air, heading for the park.

By the lake, Laiza stood silently, watching the water ripple under the soft glow of the setting sun. Ducks floated lazily across the surface, their carefree existence a sharp contrast to her turmoil. Nearby, a small family of four laughed together, their joy filling the air. Laiza's heart clenched as she watched them, yearning for something she had never truly experienced—a family that cared, a love that wasn't conditional.

"You keep staring like that, and you might swallow them with your eyes," a low voice broke through her reverie.

Laiza turned sharply, startled, to see a man sitting on the bench beside her. He looked like hell—a complete wreck. Blood smeared his face, and bruises mottled his skin. His hair was unkempt, and his clothes were torn and stained, his disheveled state screaming of recent violence. He barely had time to say more before a group of thugs emerged from the corner, their presence radiating danger.

"Fuck. They found me," the man muttered, rising to his feet and shifting into a defensive stance. Despite his battered condition, he squared his shoulders, ready for a fight he had no chance of winning.

Laiza stared at him, stunned by his audacity. "Is he insane?" she thought. He looked as though he could barely stand, let alone fight. And yet, before she realized what she was doing, she grabbed his arm. "Run!" she hissed, dragging him away.

The man blinked in shock, his feet stumbling to keep up with hers. Laiza's heart pounded as they sprinted, the heavy footsteps of the thugs echoing behind them. Her mind screamed at her to let go of him, to save herself, but her grip only tightened.

They turned into a dark alley, finding a hidden corner to crouch in as the gang leader's furious voice boomed. "Find them! I don't care how long it takes!" The threat hung in the air like a blade.

For what felt like an eternity, the thugs searched before finally retreating. Laiza exhaled in relief and emerged from the shadows, the stranger close behind. As the adrenaline ebbed, she turned to face him, her chest heaving.

"Why?" he asked again, his eyes boring into hers.

Laiza hesitated, unable to explain her actions even to herself. Finally, she replied, her voice trembling, "I don't know… I just did."

The man stepped closer, his battered frame towering over her. She backed into the wall, her breath hitching as he leaned in, his icy gaze intense. For a moment, she thought he might hurt her. Instead, he asked softly, "What kind of fool puts herself in danger for someone she doesn't know?"

Laiza's heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze, her fear mingling with curiosity, the silver strands of his hair caught the faint light filtering into the alley, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His deep, ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she felt as though he could see right through her past the walls she'd built, past the bitterness she held inside. She couldn't look away, trapped in the intensity of his gaze. But then snapped back to reality and attempted to push him away which caused her to lose her footing and almost fall to the floor. With her eyes closed tight shot she expected to cold hard floor to be another new acquaintance but could only fill the hard grip of someone onto her

His grip was firm but gentle as he helped her regain her footing. "You should be more careful," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying an undertone of fatigue that matched the bruises and bloodstains on his skin.

Laiza blinked, struggling to process the whirlwind of events. "I… I was careful," she muttered, her voice betraying the faintest quiver.

He raised a brow, an amused glint flashing in his eyes. "Is that what you call throwing yourself into danger to save a complete stranger?"

She crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. "I didn't see you putting up much of a fight either. You looked like you were about to get yourself killed."

The stranger's expression darkened for a moment, the playful spark in his eyes fading. "Sometimes, fighting isn't about winning," he murmured, almost to himself. His gaze flickered away, as if lost in a memory too painful to share.

Laiza frowned. "Well, whatever it was, you didn't look like you were going to make it out of there. So yeah, I helped. Call it stupidity or instinct or whatever you want." She turned her face away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Why was she even explaining herself to this man?

The stranger's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Instinct, huh? That's one way to describe it." He stepped back, giving her space, but his eyes remained fixed on her, studying her every move. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who gets involved in other people's messes."

Laiza scoffed. "You don't know me."

"Maybe not," he admitted, his smirk fading. "But I know the type of people who survive in a world like this. They don't stick their necks out for anyone unless they have something to gain."

The words stung more than Laiza cared to admit. She bit her lip, refusing to let him see the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "Well, maybe I'm not like most people."

The stranger's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely curious. "What's your name?"

"Laiza," she replied, her tone wary. "And you?"

"Lucian," he said after putting it into thought, it was obvious he didn't trust the little rabbit in front him.

Before either of them could say more, the faint sound of voices reached their ears. Laiza's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the gruff tones of the gangsters. "They're still looking," she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself.

Lucian's demeanour changed in an instant. His body tensed, his ice-blue eyes narrowing as he scanned their surroundings. "Stay close," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Laiza hesitated, torn between the fear coursing through her veins and the strange sense of safety she felt standing beside him. Despite his battered appearance, Lucian radiated a quiet strength that was both reassuring and unnerving.

They slipped deeper into the shadows of the alley, moving as silently as possible. Lucian led the way, his movements fluid despite his injuries. Laiza followed, her heart pounding in her chest with every step.

When they finally emerged into a quieter street, Lucian exhaled deeply, leaning against a nearby wall. "Looks like we lost them," he said, though his tone was cautious. He glanced at Laiza, his expression unreadable. "You should go home."

Laiza bristled at his dismissive tone. "Go home? Are you serious?"

Lucian gave her a pointed look. "You've done enough. Trust me, you don't want to get tangled up in this any more than you already have."

Laiza crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Maybe I don't. But you clearly need help."

He let out a low chuckle, though there was no humour in it. "You think you can help me? You don't even know who I am."

"I don't need to know who you are to see that you're in trouble," she shot back. "And I'm not the kind of person who turns their back on someone who needs help."

For a long moment, Lucian said nothing. He simply stared at her, his ice-blue eyes searching hers as if trying to decipher her motives. Finally, he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're a strange one, Laiza."

Before she could respond, he straightened up, wincing slightly as he adjusted his weight. "Fine. If you're so determined to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, I won't stop you. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Laiza frowned. "Warn me about what?"

Lucian's expression darkened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "That getting involved with me might be the worst mistake you've ever made."

Despite the ominous warning, Laiza felt a strange pull toward him—an inexplicable need to uncover the mystery surrounding this stranger who seemed so broken and yet so unyielding.

And though she couldn't explain why, she had a feeling that their fates had become irrevocably intertwined.