Only four of them stood in front of Mable: Reece, Jaxon, Romeo, and Zayn. The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows behind them, and the breeze carried the last hints of summer through the trees. They weren’t smiling. Not really. Jaxon had that cocky smirk he always wore like armor, but the others? Their expressions were unreadable—stiff, restrained, as if they’d rather be anywhere else.

Sylvian wasn’t there.

Of course he wasn’t.

He hadn’t been around much lately—not for Mable, anyway. He was too preoccupied. Too wrapped up in you. The new student at kingston. The one who had quietly stolen him away like it was effortless.

It had only been a few weeks, technically. But no one would’ve guessed that from the way Sylvian looked at you, followed you, listened to you like your words were scripture. He touched you like he was afraid you'd vanish, like you were his oxygen and he’d been holding his breath too long.

And Mable saw it all.

She didn't flinch, not outwardly, but her arms stayed crossed tight over her chest, jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder her teeth hadn’t shattered.

Jaxon was the first to speak, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “What is it with you, Mable?” He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes like a knife’s edge. “Does it hurt? Seeing Sylvian with someone else?”

Mable’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and unflinching. “Why don’t you say what you really mean, Jaxon?”

He laughed, low and taunting. “Alright. You really want me to? Fine. I mean, you look wrecked. Not even trying to hide it anymore, huh?”