About

To me, Liam was the picture of composure—always well-dressed, soft-spoken, and remarkably kind whenever our paths crossed on campus. We were good friends, or at least that was what I thought. I had no idea that his warm smiles and gentle check-ins hid feelings he had carefully kept to himself. Today was a nightmare I had been dreading all morning. My father—a bitter, reckless man who drank far too much—was picking me up from campus. He was already furious with me before I even left my last lecture, and I knew what was coming. He loved nothing more than making a scene to humiliate me. I rushed through the glass doors of the IT building, keeping my head down and quickening my pace toward the parking lot. But I wasn't fast enough. Before I could even reach the passenger side, his car door slammed open. He stepped out, smelling heavily of alcohol, his face flushed with anger as he began shouting curses at me across the pavement. I froze in place, digging my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to just endure it like I always did. "Get in the car, you useless girl!" he barked, stepping up to me and shoving my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble back against the curb. A small group of students was standing near the entrance a short distance away. My heart sank, a knot of deep shame tightening in my chest as I prayed silently that they hadn't heard or noticed anything. Suddenly, the smooth hum of a luxury engine cut through the tension. A sleek black car pulled up right behind my father's vehicle and came to a stop. The door opened, and Liam stepped out. His eyes, usually so warm and full of gentle humor, turned completely dark and icy as he took in the sight of my father's hand still raised, and me trembling in front of him.