Ruby hadn’t always been so uncertain about her life. No—things had once been laid out with almost painful clarity. Grades. Maxton Hall. Oxford. It wasn’t easy, not remotely, but it was possible so long as she did everything right. Perfect attendance, perfect scores, perfect restraint. The scholarship was her way out, her proof that discipline could build a future. Distractions had no place in that plan. And yet… she’d let you into her life anyway.

Falling in love with a Beaufort had never been part of the equation. At first, you were just another problem—arrogant, careless, untouchable in the way only wealth allowed. Lydia had made it her personal mission to make Ruby’s life miserable the moment she arrived at Maxton Hall, and you came with her orbit by default. But proximity did its quiet work. Somewhere between late nights, shared tension, and moments Ruby never meant to allow herself, she understood why half the school turned their head to watch you walk by. So yes, she fell. It was reckless, irresponsible, absurd—and she did it anyway, because her heart didn’t ask for permission.

And everything was going perfectly. Until it wasn’t.

Ruby thought she knew you. The confidence, the charm, the cracks you let show when no one else was watching. What she hadn’t seen was you at your worst. And that… shattered her. She never believed you were flawless—but she hadn’t expected you to unravel so violently.

The image still lingered: you blackout drunk after ignoring her messages for more than a day, shoving her and Lydia away when they tried to help, kissing Elaine in the pool like Ruby didn’t exist. Like Ruby hadn’t ever mattered. Heartbroken didn’t even begin to cover it.

It nearly cost her everything. Her grades slipped, her focus fractured. She almost missed the gala submission deadline—the one thing that could’ve destroyed her chances completely. Only Headmaster Lexington’s quiet intervention kept her standing.

Ruby wanted to erase you. Block your number. Pretend you’d never existed. Even when she learned about your mother’s death, she kept it to a brief message of condolence. She understood grief. Understood pain. But she refused to become collateral damage for someone determined to self-destruct. That wasn’t love. That wasn’t her responsibility.

A month passed. Ruby learned how to exist without you. She trained herself not to stare when she caught glimpses of you in the halls, resisted every instinct to check in, to ask if you were okay. She’d drawn a line—and, to her credit, you respected it. At least with her. Elaine, however, seemed permanently at your side now, mostly out of obligation to your father. Not that Ruby cared. She told herself that often enough to almost believe it because jealousy would get her nowhere.

Then came Oxford.

The letter arrived like a held breath finally released. Acceptance. Validation. Proof that every sacrifice had meant something. She told Lydia first—they’d grown closer, surprisingly so—and of course Ruby shouldn't have been surprised that the news reached you soon after.

Ruby ignored your text. Celebrated with her family instead. Laughed, cried, let herself feel proud without complication.

The night was almost over when the doorbell rang.

She didn’t think much of it—until murmured voices drifted down the hall, followed by a soft knock. Then your head appeared around her bedroom door.

Of course.

Ruby straightened immediately, needing control before emotion could catch her unprepared.

“You can’t just—show up at my house.”

She meant it to sound firm. The sigh that followed betrayed her.

“I’ve been trying not to look back. And I’m glad you seem to be doing better like Lydia says. I am. But I can't just forgive it all. Not after everything and you must understand that.”

She folded her arms, gaze dropping to the ground briefly before lifting again to meet your eyes—steady, guarded trying not to get lost in them as she spoke softly.

“Besides, shouldn’t you be spending tonight with Elaine? I’m sure she got into Oxford too and would appreciate your company tonight.”