The Human Among Wolves Chapter 58

Aurora

The tears that had been stinging my eyes spilled over, hot and fast. My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I couldn’t look away from him.

My chest ached, but it wasn’t just his words. It was the weight of everything I’d given him—my trust, my first kiss, my first time—and how easily he crushed it beneath his heel.

How easily he crushed me.

Before I even realized what I was doing, my body moved on its own.

I crossed the distance between us, my pulse roaring in my ears, drowning out every rational thought.

And then—crack.

My palm connected with his cheek so hard that the sound echoed through the room, sharp and violent. The impact jolted up my arm, the sting biting into my skin, but I didn’t care.

Zayn’s head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening, a red mark already blooming where I’d hit him.

My hand burned like fire, but the ache in my chest burned hotter.

“You—” My voice shook, my breathing uneven, but I forced the words out, each one laced with fury. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not after—” My throat closed up, cutting me off before I could finish.

I stood there, chest heaving, tears streaming freely down my face now, glaring at him through the blur.

For a split second, he just stood there, completely still, his expression unreadable. I didn’t know if he was angry, surprised, or if he even felt anything at all.

But I didn’t wait for him to answer. I refused to.

My fingers were still trembling when I reached for my things.

The bag sat slumped on the floor beside the bed, and I bent down to grab it, my movements jerky and clumsy—almost like my body couldn’t keep up with the storm raging inside me. The leather strap caught on the leg of the chair, and I yanked it free with more force than necessary, my breath coming out in harsh little gasps.

Then my gaze landed on the book.

It sat neatly on Zayn’s desk, so quiet and unbothered—like it hadn’t been at the center of everything that brought me here. That single book, the reason I ever knocked on his door in the first place, the thing that had connected us. My throat tightened.

I crossed the room slowly, my steps heavy, my tears hot against my cheeks. My hand hovered above the worn cover for a moment before I finally grabbed it, clutching it to my chest like it was the last piece of myself I could take with me.

And then I turned.

Zayn hadn’t moved from where he stood.

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say.

Without looking at him again, I made my way toward the door. Every step felt like it was dragging me through wet cement—slow, deliberate, painful—but I didn’t stop until my hand was on the doorknob.

“Aurora.”

His voice was quiet—so quiet that I almost thought I imagined it.

I froze, my back still to him, my chest heaving. I didn’t turn around.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then he said it, barely more than a whisper:

“You should hate me.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. My stomach knotted, my grip on the book tightening until my knuckles ached.

“I already do,” I said, my voice shaking, and then I pulled the door open and stepped out, leaving him behind.

I didn’t stop to look back. Not once. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my chest, and every step felt like it was fueled by a mix of rage, humiliation, and heartbreak. I stumbled down the hall, the book clutched tightly against my chest, my bag bouncing against my hip with every hurried step.

The morning light poured through the academy’s windows, pale and indifferent, but I didn’t notice. I barely noticed the other students moving around me, going about their quiet routines. It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the jagged rhythm of my own heartbeat.

When I reached my dorm, the hall was eerily quiet. The usual chatter of my roommates was absent. A glance at the clock confirmed it—past nine in the morning. My roommates had already left for classes. All of them out, all of them oblivious to the storm churning inside me.

I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to face anyone. Not today. Not after what had just happened.

I kicked the door open with more force than necessary, letting it slam behind me, and sank against it for a moment, the book still pressed to my chest. My breath came in short, uneven bursts. My body was trembling, exhausted from crying, from running, from the sheer weight of betrayal.

And yet, despite the ache, despite the humiliation, I didn’t feel like crying anymore. Not yet. I just felt empty, and furious, and unbearably alone.

I dragged myself inside, my steps slow now, deliberate, avoiding the mess I had left the night before. I didn’t bother putting the book down; it was the only thing that felt solid, real.

Collapsing onto my bed, fully dressed, I curled into myself, letting the sheets wrap around me like a fragile shield. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the academy waking up outside my window.

I didn’t move for a long time. I didn’t think. I just let the silence swallow me, letting the heat of my anger burn quietly in my chest.

Today, I would skip class. Today, the world could wait.

*** * ***

Hours passed in a blur of silence. I didn’t move from my bed, didn’t even think about the world outside my room. Time felt like it was dragging on forever.

Eventually, hunger made itself impossible to ignore. My stomach growled, loud and insistent, a harsh reminder that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Reluctantly, I forced myself up from the bed, rubbing my eyes and trying to shake the heaviness from my limbs. The room felt too small, too suffocating, and the thought of seeing anyone—even my roommates—made my chest tighten with anxiety.

The cafeteria was bustling, filled with students chatting and moving about their day, the smell of cooked food heavy in the air. I kept my head low as I made my way through the crowded tables, scanning for an empty spot to sit, my thoughts elsewhere, tangled and messy.

And then I saw them.

Zayn. Sitting across from Charlotte. Laughing. Eating.

I froze, my stomach twisting violently, the food I had just passed suddenly tasting bitter in my mouth. My heart raced, a mix of disbelief, rage, and hurt coiling in my chest like a living thing. They looked so… comfortable together, as if last night had never happened, as if our world—the one I had thought existed, fragile and beautiful—had never existed at all.

I felt my hands tighten around my tray until my knuckles turned white. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around and run, but something inside me forced me forward. I had to see it with my own eyes. I had to understand just how far he had pushed me away.

I moved past a few tables, keeping my eyes locked on them, and my chest burned with each laugh they shared, each casual glance. The sight was worse than any words he had thrown at me. It wasn’t just cruel; it was deliberate. It was him, showing me exactly what I had been to him—nothing.

My hunger didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t care about lunch or about the chatter around me. All I could feel was the raw, twisting ache in my chest, the taste of betrayal bitter on my tongue.

And Zayn… he didn’t even look up. He was focused on her, and the realization hit me like a physical blow.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear.

Instead, I walked past their table, my steps slow but steady, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill again.