Killian wasn’t sure when it started.

Maybe it was the day after their presentation, when he walked into Modern Literature and instinctively glanced toward the window, only to find her seat empty. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. People skipped class all the time.

But then another day passed. And another.

And Anastasia Hart was nowhere to be seen.

It was ridiculous—how something so small could get under his skin. He wasn’t used to missing people. He had plenty of friends, plenty of distractions. If someone faded into the background, another person easily filled the space they left behind.

But Anastasia hadn’t just faded.

She had disappeared.

No one else seemed to notice. The class went on as usual, students laughing, gossiping, debating over lectures. Even the professor didn’t mention her absence.

Killian, on the other hand, felt a strange, restless energy settle in his chest.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she had dropped the class. Maybe she had simply decided she didn’t want to show up anymore.

Still, he caught himself looking around campus between classes, scanning faces in the crowd. His usual routine felt… off. As if a piece of the background was suddenly missing, and only he realized it.

He hadn’t spoken to her outside of their assignment. They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything. So why did it bother him this much?

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One evening, as he walked across campus, he caught himself passing by the library without meaning to. He stopped near the entrance, glancing through the windows. It was quiet inside, students hunched over books, the faint hum of concentration in the air.

But Anastasia wasn’t there.

His jaw tightened.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He had never been the type to fixate on people—especially not people who barely acknowledged him. And yet, as he walked away, one thought refused to leave his mind. Anastasia had been slipping through the cracks long before he noticed. And now, he wasn’t sure if she had ever planned to come back.

Then he saw the familiar chestnut hair behind the back of the lecture hall. Killian wasn’t imagining it.

Anastasia was in class. She just wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

A week had passed since he first noticed her absence, and by then, he had started paying attention. Really paying attention. And that was when he realized—she wasn’t skipping. She was avoiding him.

Her usual seat by the window? Empty. Instead, she had moved to the far back corner of the lecture hall, tucked away behind taller students where she could blend into the background. And when class ended, she never lingered.

The moment the professor dismissed them, she was gone. No pauses to gather her things, no accidental eye contact. She slipped out before Killian could even stand up.

And for some reason, that irked him. Because he knew—he knew—it wasn’t an accident.

The realization hit him harder than he wanted to admit. She wasn’t just indifferent to him anymore. She was actively making sure he stayed out of her world. And the worst part? It wasn’t because she was flustered or nervous.

It wasn’t because she cared.

If anything, she looked annoyed.

Killian sat in his usual seat, arms crossed as he stared toward the back of the room where Anastasia was scribbling something in her notebook. He didn’t know whether she was taking notes or writing something completely unrelated. She never looked up.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

This was new.

Girls avoided him sometimes, sure—but always for the same reasons. They liked him too much. They didn’t want to seem obvious. They wanted him to chase them.

But Anastasia?

She wasn’t playing hard to get. She was playing get away from me.

And that was pissing him off.

Because now, it wasn’t just curiosity anymore.

It was personal.