Sugar before the Burn

The air was thick, like it knew something she didn't.

Elena stared out the bus window, watching unfamiliar streets smear past. Everything felt new and wrong at the same time. Her hand trembled slightly as she clutched the strap of her bag, the only thing keeping her grounded in this unfamiliar city. Behind her was a past she wouldn't dare touch again. Ahead of her was her aunt's house-Mrs. Greene, the woman who never smiled long enough to be trusted.

This wasn't just a change of location.

This was exile.

The bus groaned to a halt in front of a quiet residential block. Not rich. Not poor. Just... neat. Controlled. Like the kind of place where people didn't raise their voices or admit to sins.

Elena stepped off the bus with her suitcase, dragging it behind her like guilt. The house loomed ahead-whitewashed, sterile, and quiet. A thin trail of smoke escaped the chimney, the only sign someone lived there.

The front door creaked open.

"Elena," Mrs. Greene said in her usual tone-neither warm nor cold. Just efficient.

She hadn't seen her aunt in years, but the woman looked exactly the same: silver-rimmed glasses, tightly pulled-back hair, and eyes that scanned more than they blinked.

"You've grown," she said, stepping aside. "Shoes off, bag by the stairs. Dinner's in the oven."

Elena mumbled a thank you and stepped inside. The house smelled like bleach and leftover regrets. The walls were bare, the air too still. Everything had a place. Nothing felt lived in.

Later that night, in her new room, Elena sat on the edge of a mattress that felt too firm, staring at the ceiling that felt too silent. The walls were bare, save for a mirror on the wardrobe that seemed to stretch her reflection thinner than it was. She hadn't cried. Not yet. Crying meant weakness. And if she was going to survive this new world-Zenith University, new faces, a new city-she had to stay sharp.

She checked her phone.

Nothing.

No texts. No notifications. No one even knew she was here yet.

She was invisible again.

Just how she liked it.

Except... it didn't feel like a choice this time.

There was a knock on her door. Soft. Hesitant.

Mrs. Greene stood there with a glass of water and a glance that hovered somewhere between concern and duty.

"You all settled in?" she asked.

Elena nodded. "Yeah. It's... quiet."

"You'll get used to it," Mrs. Greene said. She stepped into the room, placing the glass on the desk. "You ready for school? I mean-Zenith. Big change from wherever you were before."

"I guess," Elena replied.

"You met any people yet? Life's about to change. Whether you're ready or not."

Elena managed a small smile. "At least I have Ava. She'll help me through all of this. Thanks for having me here, Mrs. Greene. It means a lot."

Mrs. Greene waved a hand like she was swatting the air. "Stop it. Don't be silly. You need to rest after the journey. Go to your room properly and lie down. There's school tomorrow."

Elena gave a soft nod and quietly shut the door after her aunt left.

Zenith University was big.

Too big.

Elena stood in the middle of the main campus square the next morning, heart racing as students swarmed past. She wore jeans and a black long-sleeved top-safe, quiet, forgettable. That was the plan. Don't stand out. Don't attract. Just survive.

"Elena!" a voice called from behind.

She turned.

Ava. Her only real friend.

The one person who knew bits of her, just not all the pieces. Ava hugged her tight, her blonde curls bouncing as she pulled back to grin.

"You made it," she said. "God, I was beginning to think you'd chicken out."

"I almost did."

"Yeah, well... welcome to the war zone. Let's get you killed slowly."

They walked together, Ava filling the silence with gossip and inside jokes about lecturers who had egos the size of Jupiter and boys who thought eye contact meant marriage. Elena let herself smile-just a little. It wasn't home, but it was something.

And then-

Everything went quiet.

A presence. A shift.

Elena turned her head-and saw him.

Standing by the tall art building, sleeves rolled up, cigarette between his fingers, dark curls falling over one eye, and a smirk that didn't belong to a student. Zayne.

Ava noticed.

"Don't," she warned under her breath.

"Who is that?"

"Zayne," she said. "Trust me-don't."

But Elena's eyes were already locked with his.

He looked right at her.

Not through her. Not past her.

At her.

The corner of his mouth lifted like he knew a secret she hadn't even told herself yet.

Then he turned and walked away, leaving smoke and static in his place.

In the studio arts building, Elena tried to focus. Tried to blend. But her heart hadn't slowed since the moment Zayne looked at her. Ava was talking about some girl who got suspended for cheating, but Elena's thoughts were already gone. Floating somewhere between curiosity and warning.

"Zayne used to date one of my roommates," Ava said out of nowhere, eyes flicking toward her. "He left her in tears and therapy."

Elena raised a brow. "And yet you're still looking at him like that."

Ava rolled her eyes. "It's not about looks. It's about danger. He's magnetic, yeah. But magnets destroy things, El. Just keep your head down."

Elena nodded.

But she didn't promise.

That evening, back at Mrs. Greene's house, Elena sat by the window, sketching for the first time since she arrived. Her pencil moved almost on its own-lines forming lips, jawlines, curls...

When she finished, she stared at the page.

It was him.

Zayne.

She tore the page out.

Crumpled it.

Tossed it in the bin.

But as she reached for her phone, something strange happened.

Her lock screen lit up with a new message.

Unknown Number: You looked lost today.

Her breath caught.

Unknown Number: I like that on you.

She stared at the screen, heart thudding.

She hadn't told anyone her number yet.

Not even Ava.

She turned the phone over, screen down. Tried to ignore it. But the silence around her grew louder. The walls creaked like old bones, and the ticking clock on the dresser suddenly sounded like a countdown.

She stood up, restless now, and paced the small room. Her fingers itched to draw again, but she didn't reach for the sketchbook. Instead, she went to the bin, pulled out the crumpled page, and slowly smoothed it against the desk. His face looked back at her-uninvited, familiar, dangerous.

The phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Sweet dreams, shadow girl.

Elena didn't sleep that night. Not because she was afraid.

But because, for the first time in a long time, she didn1't feel invisible.

And that terrified her more than anything else.