Kalila Miracle Hart

"I think you've forgotten who I am, Kalila."

His voice was steady, but deep—almost as if he were about to devour me whole. Those dark emerald eyes, unflinching, locked onto mine, as if he could see past the surface into the parts of me I wasn't ready to reveal.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul—did he catch a glimpse of mine? I felt exposed under his gaze, I know we'd barely met before but it's strange how familiar he seemed, like someone I should've known all my life.

I shifted uncomfortably, glancing away, hoping to break the tension. My eyes landed on his wrist. There it was—my hair tie. I could've sworn he'd thrown it away. Carcel Evander, is really an odd man.

You might dislike him, but you can never hate him or maybe because I'm the weird one here, I don't use the word hate on people quite often.

I believe that for every force of nature there is an equal and opposite reaction, So if there's hate, there is love, and if there is love, there is hate.

They exist together, inseparable, two sides of the same coin. For you to truly hate someone, you must have loved them once—it's the only way that the word hate can cut so deep.

For me, that person was my dad. I loved him. I loved him enough that it tore me apart when I saw what he did to my mom. That's when I felt what hate truly feels like, and now it's buried deep inside my heart. So, I could never easily hate anyone.

and that's why I don't hate Carcel; I just dislike him and how he manages to hit every single button in me.

"I am a Dawson, Kalila," he said, "If you think small things like these will make me forgive you, you're wrong, bunny."

The way he called me that—the word itself felt like a taunt, a condescending jab that dug under my skin. My face twisted in disgust. "Stop calling me that," I snapped, but it only seemed to amuse him further.

He leaned in, that smirk deepening, eyes dark with some sick enjoyment. Instinctively, I backed away until I was perched right on the edge of sofa, feeling like prey with no way out.

"Listen, bunny..." he paused again, letting the word linger, relishing in the way it rattled me. Alarm bells went off in my head, the tension of being trapped spreading through my body, tightening my chest.

Every nerve screamed at me to move, to do something, but before I could react, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist, yanking me toward him. The sudden force made a gasp of horror slip from my lips.

"I'll call you what I want, when I want," he growled, his voice chillingly casual as I struggled to wrench my wrist free from his iron grip. "Sorry, bunny, but you'll need to pay for what you did."

Panic surged through me, and with a surge of defiance, my free hand flew up and slapped him across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the room, and his head snapped to the side, his cheek glowing bright red from the impact. For a second, I was frozen, breathless, waiting for his reaction.

Then, slowly, that wicked smirk crept back onto his face, like he enjoyed it. I could hardly believe it. He released me, and I bolted up, my feet carrying me toward the door as fast as they could. I just needed to get out of there—away from him, away from that smirk.

"Stop," he growled, his voice cold and commanding. And despite every ounce of willpower, my legs betrayed me, halting just inches from the door.

I could hear him approach, until he was standing right behind me. My breath hitched as I felt him reach for my hand, and for a second, I thought he was going to drag me back. Instead, he slipped something into my palm. My hair tie.

"Tie your hair," he said softly, a cruel smile pulling at his lips as he watched me. "Because from now on, your life is going to be a living hell."

He turned and opened the door, giving me one last smirk before he gently pushed me out, leaving me standing there, the door slams behind right in front of my face.

I breathed heavily, feeling a surge of relief. I tried to walk out of the library as fast as I could, but before I knew it, I was already running.

Carcel Evander Dawson is like a nightmare in broad daylight. He feels like trouble wrapped in flesh, and fear creeps in every time I see him. I don't want to get tangled in a mess I can't handle—life's complicated enough. I don't need more drama, I just want to live freely. Is that really too much to ask?

I forced my hands to stop trembling, trying to push the anxiety back down where it belonged before I had to face Evara and the others. I couldn't even bring up the issue that had been bothering me the most—the fact that he had a fiancée and didn't even bother to tell me. If Ciel knew it was me who forced him to do live connects, then my life would surely be a living hell from now on.

Three more days until Foundation Day is over. Just three long days of this torture, and we'll never have to see each other's faces again. Maybe then, life would go back to normal.

I could already spot the booth in the distance, the banners flapping in the breeze and the hum of excited chatter filling the air. We had officially announced the live connect to the public, and it was already creating quite the buzz.

The decision to make it a daily occurrence had been a good call, adding a layer of anticipation that pulled students in. Our new voting board on the app allowed viewers to choose which artist would participate in the live connect, and today, Ace had been selected. It gave everyone a sense of control, like they were part of the action, not just spectators.

The forum feature that we also added to the app was also a hit. People could now engage in discussions, not just about art but anything that came to mind—debating techniques, swapping favorite pieces, or even casually chatting about the festival. 

It was nice seeing something we worked so hard to put together come alive with so much energy. As I got closer, the lively atmosphere only fueled my anticipation, but a part of me still felt that lingering unease.

"I'm back," I announced, trying to sound upbeat as I stepped into the booth. Evara immediately zeroed in on me, concern written all over her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked and I force a chuckled as much as I want to say I'm not, I don't want Evara to be angry and make things more complicated, I appreciate her protection but getting her involve would be a disaster.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I smiled, hoping it looked convincing, but I knew she could probably tell I was faking it.

"Apparently, he said he doesn't forgive me yet..." I trailed off, I wasn't even sure if that he meant, when he said those words to me. I couldn't figure out why he harbored such a deep grudge against me over something so small.

A slap to his flawless face wasn't small, though, and once wasn't enough for you—it had to be twice.

I groaned at the thought "Does he usually act like that?" I asked, feeling a shiver as I hugged myself, trying to push away the lingering unease.

"Like what?"

"Like... blowing small things out of proportion. I mean, I apologized sincerely, but it seemed like it was the end of the world for him," I muttered, still trying to make sense of his anger.

"He's just being an asshole, Miracle." Evara's voice softened as she rubbed the sides of my arms comfortingly. "Let me know if he bothers you again, and I'll kick his ass."

I let out a small, reluctant laugh. "Well, I kinda slapped him."

"You did what?!" Evara's voice shot up, making Akira and Sumer, who were busy setting up the artwork, stop and look over.

"What happened?" Sumer asked, concern evident in her tone as she and Akira quickly gathered around.

"She slapped Carcel," Evara said flatly, though the surprise still lingered in her expression.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Akira asked, looking from Evara to me with wide eyes.

"I don't think it's a good thing," Sumer said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

"Why did you slap him?" Evara asked again, more seriously this time.

I sighed, realizing there was no way out of this conversation now. "So this is what happened..." I began, reliving what happened us, knowing full well I was about to unload a story that would leave them all either concerned or laughing—or both.

"You guys are so romantic," Sumer blurted out after I finished telling the story, her eyes wide as if she'd just heard some fairytale.

"Romantic?!" Akira cut in sharply. "He harassed her—there's nothing romantic about that," she pointed out, her face twisted with disbelief.

"But it didn't hurt her, does that count?" Evara chimed in, clearly considering the gray areas.

I watched as they bickered back and forth, sighing inwardly. Akira was right. There was nothing remotely romantic about Carcel's cold gaze or those arrogant smirks. If anything, it was terrifying. Every encounter with him felt like I was walking a tightrope, unsure when I'd fall.

"Girls, enough!" I finally interrupted with a sigh. "Let's just get back to the booth."

The chatter died down, and we refocused on setting up the art displays. We arranged the pieces neatly on the tables, while some were hung on the walls, creating a visually striking display.

 The centerpiece, of course, was Ace's portrait—front and center. He clearly loved the attention, grinning like he'd already won some popularity contest. 

"Hey, guys," a voice called out, interrupting my thoughts. I turned to see Ashton, one of the student body officers in our department. 

He had that casual, effortless charm—tall, lean, and always with an easygoing smile. It was a shame he wasn't into girls because, honestly, he could probably charm anyone if he tried.

"Ashton!" I greeted, wrapping him in a quick hug. My eyes drifted to the person beside him—someone new. She was a short-haired brunette with striking amethyst-colored eyes that almost seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"This is Jade," Ashton introduced, and I couldn't help but notice the gleaming pin on her uniform.

"Hi, I'm Kalila Hart" I said, offering her a smile. She looked down shyly, barely making eye contact. Just as I was about to say more, the girls finished their tasks and joined us.

"Pembroke?" Evara's voice cut through, and Jade glanced up, looking slightly startled.

Pembroke. The name finally clicked in my head. She's one of the Pembroke twins! I remember hearing about them from Evara. It's hard to forget when I got very excited to hear that there are identical twins on campus, especially when they're elites.

"Hi," Jade replied softly, clearly feeling out of place amidst the sudden attention.

"She's with me," Ashton chimed in, steering the conversation back to him. "Jade just joined the school newspaper, so I thought I'd bring her along to get some experience," he explained.

"Didn't know elites could join the scholars' organizations," Sumer muttered, probably voicing what we were all thinking.

"There's no rule saying we don't accept elites," Ashton replied, a bit of pride in his voice. "This was the first time we've had an application from one, and we accepted it without hesitation."

I remembered reading an article from their paper once, pushing for unity among the students of Eldonbury—fighting to break down the invisible walls between scholars and elites. Their aim was to bring everyone together, but in reality, the social levels here were built by the students themselves. No matter how noble the goal, I wasn't sure how easily those boundaries would crumble.

We all greeted Jade, trying to make her feel more comfortable. Even Evara, who usually had zero patience for elites, was making an effort. It was strange seeing her act so warm towards Jade when she was usually a firestorm around Carcel.

Then again, I realized, she was also okay with Crue. It seemed Evara had levels to her temper. On the bottom rung, where Crue and Jade sat, was a calm, friendly Evara. Then there was the neutral Evara, where Ace hung out, not bothering her enough to spark any real fire. And at the top, well, that's where Carcel and Ciel lived—fueling a raging, fire-breathing version of her. But I totally get her rage. 

"We're here because we'd love to write an article about your booth," Ashton said, beaming with enthusiasm. We all exchanged confused glances, trying to process why they'd choose us out of all the booths. Ashton must have sensed our silence and raised eyebrows because he quickly elaborated.

"I was amazed by how well you guys are running this booth," he continued, looking genuinely impressed. "You probably don't even realize it, but scholars and elites are all participating in your activities without any issues. They're happy just to get along."

I blinked, letting that sink in. He was right—when Carcel did the first-ever live connect, no one seemed to care about social status. The girls were too excited to notice whether they were standing beside a scholar or an elite. 

They all screamed and cheered, united in the moment. That's where it ended, though. The guys, on the other hand, still kept their distance, maintaining the invisible wall between them and the scholars. But to Ashton, and his organization, this small shift must've felt like a huge victory.

"We'd like to do an interview with you all," Ashton added, his voice hopeful. "It would be a great addition to the school newspaper and help highlight what you're accomplishing here."

We exchanged quick glances, silently weighing it out. I could see the curiosity and interest on everyone's faces, and with one simple nod from Evara, we all agreed.

"Sure," I said, breaking the silence. "We'd be happy to do the interview."

The interview didn't last more than thirty minutes, but it was fun and surprisingly lighthearted. Ashton made it feel like were just having a casual chat instead of an official interview. 

We ended up sharing some hilarious moments from the whole process of developing the app. The girls were laughing, and I found myself genuinely enjoying it too, giggling as we recalled all the crazy things we'd gone through to get to this point, we also took pictures together and Jade was an excellent  photographer, it was fun.

Afterward, Ashton and Jade mentioned they had to head out to publish the article soon. We said our goodbyes, and as they left, the energy in our little group shifted. We decided to take a well-deserved break, grabbing refreshments and just chilling for a bit.

"Hey, guys," Evara's voice broke through the mellow atmosphere, sounding a little more sentimental than usual. We all turned to her, noticing the way she gripped her can of soda tightly.

"I'm just so happy I changed classes," she said, her voice genuine. Instinctively, we all moved in and hugged her, this sudden wave of appreciation pulling us together. It wasn't planned, but it felt right. When we finally broke from the embrace, everyone was smiling—real, warm smiles that said everything words couldn't.

"We're happy we met you too, Evara," Sumer added, sincerity dripping from every word. "Truly."

I watched them all, feeling a kind of happiness that filled me quietly, without any big gestures or over-the-top emotions. Despite the rocky start, everything had fallen into place, and I realized how much richer my life had become because of these people. Without Evara, without the project, things wouldn't have been as colorful as they were now.

I cleared my throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us. "I'm thinking we should get a girl for the next live connect," I said, watching as they all turned their attention to me. "I've been thinking about what Ashton said earlier."

They waited, curious.

"Maybe we could actually make a difference in this school," I continued, my thoughts finally forming into words. "Even if it's just a little change, at least we're doing something. Something that matters."

Evara reached for my hand, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. "Let's do it," she said with a warmth in her voice that made me feel both supported. I couldn't help but pull her into a hug, and she hugged me back just as tightly.

"Whatever you want, Miracle. Let's do it," she whispered, holding onto me.

Akira, always quick with ideas, chimed in. "Should we also post Ashton's article in our forum too? It could get more traction that way."

"That's a great idea," Evara responded, her smile widening as she loosened her grip on me. It was amazing how, in moments like these, our little team came together so effortlessly.

We sat in our booth, brainstorming and planning content for the next day, Each of us contributed, eager to push the project forward. Everything looks perfect but there just one thing I hope for.

I hope I wont meet Carcel tomorrow.