Vivian stepped into the lecture hall, her grip tight around the strap of her bag, her breath shallow. The room looked the same as it always did—students filing in, notebooks flipping open, quiet conversations humming beneath the fluorescent lights. She had walked into this room dozens of times before, had sat in the same seat, had listened to the same voice delivering lectures. It should have felt normal.

But it wasn’t.

Her eyes found him immediately.

Noah sat where he always did—third row, slightly off-center, notebook open, pen in hand, posture effortless. His fingers moved across the page with unhurried precision, recording something from the slides that had yet to appear on the projector screen.

He wasn’t looking at her.

She hesitated in the aisle, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, the smallest flicker of recognition, but he didn’t glance up.

Not even once.

Her pulse quickened.

She made her way to her usual seat, lowering herself into the chair, expecting—waiting—for something to happen. A glance. A twitch of amusement. Anything.

But Noah didn’t look at her.

He only took notes.

Answered a question.

Made a passing comment to the student beside him.

Like nothing had changed.

Like he had never seen her covered in blood.

Like he had never wiped his prints and left her to take the fall.

The class started.

Vivian barely processed any of it. The professor spoke, equations and theories filled the board, but her mind couldn’t hold on to a single piece of it.

Noah had erased her.

Not just ignored her. Not just brushed her aside.

He had wiped her away.

By the time the lecture ended, her hands were numb from how tightly she had been gripping her pen.

Noah packed his notebook away, capping his pen with the same practiced ease as always. There was no rush in his movements, no stiffness in his posture. He moved as though he had nowhere to be, as though he had all the time in the world.

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Then he stood.

And walked toward the exit.

Without looking at her.

Not once.

Vivian sat frozen, her breath stuck in her throat.

Then, as if something had finally snapped, she shoved her things into her bag and followed him.

Outside the Lecture Hall

The hallway was crowded with students spilling out of classrooms, their voices overlapping, a constant hum of movement and conversation. Vivian wove through them, her gaze locked onto the back of Noah’s head, her heart pounding.

He wasn’t avoiding her.

He wasn’t ignoring her.

He had forgotten her on purpose.

She caught up with him just as he turned the corner.

“Noah.”

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

Something cold crawled up her spine.

She reached out and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop. “Noah.”

He turned smoothly, his expression blank, his dark eyes settling on hers with mild curiosity.

“Yes?”

The word punched through her like a slap.

Vivian stared at him, her fingers still curled around his wrist, her grip trembling before she forced herself to let go.

Her mouth opened, but for a second, nothing came out.

“You’re really just going to act like nothing happened?” she finally managed, her voice lower than she intended.

A pause.

A perfectly measured hesitation.

Then, smoothly, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Her breath stalled.

Her stomach twisted violently, her chest tightening as she scanned his face, searching for something—some crack, some indication that this was a game, that he was pretending.

But his expression remained perfectly neutral.

Like he had never met her outside of this classroom.

Like they had never spoken.

Like he hadn’t watched her kill a man.

She took a shaky step closer. “You were there,” she whispered, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “At Silver Key. The day Vince died.”

Noah blinked, his gaze calm, unfazed. “Silver Key?”

Vivian felt her breath catch.

He wasn’t avoiding the conversation.

He was pretending not to understand it at all.

Her skin prickled with something close to nausea. “You helped me,” she said, quieter now. “You—”

“I helped you?” Noah interrupted, his brows lifting slightly, his head tilting in mild curiosity. “With what, exactly?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Her fingers curled into her palms.

He was lying to her face.

Not just denying.

Erasing everything.

She could hear her own pulse, feel the way her hands trembled as the realization slammed into her all at once.

The police hadn’t mentioned him.

They had called her, not him.

She was the one Vince had reached out to before he died.

She was the one who had walked into Silver Key.

She was the one who had thrown up in that room.

And now—there was nothing tying him to that night at all.

The clothes were gone.

The evidence was gone.

He had wiped his prints. He had made sure there was nothing left of him.

But she was still here.

Vivian had been the one left exposed.

Vivian had been the one questioned.

Vivian had been the one the police called.

He had never planned to help her.

He had left her to get caught.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the strap of her bag like she needed to hold onto something solid.

Noah sighed lightly, shifting his bag over his shoulder. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” he said, his tone polite but dismissive. “See you next class, Vivian.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

She had expected avoidance.

She had expected a lie.

She hadn’t expected this.

No panic. No reluctance.

Just complete indifference.

Her body remained frozen in place, the weight of his words pressing against her chest, smothering her, crushing her beneath the sheer finality of them.

She wasn’t his problem anymore.

She wasn’t anything to him.

As she watched Noah disappear around the corner, Vivian felt her fists clench.

Fine.

If he wouldn’t give her answers, then she would get them herself.

She took a breath, forced herself to move, and followed him.