A V Y U K T' S       P O V

I didn't stop walking until I was back in the darkened hallway, the sound of my own footsteps echoing like gunshots against the marble. My heart was thundering, a frantic, ugly rhythm that made my skin feel too tight, I had glared at her. I had spat those words out—"I have more important things than you"—like they were a shield. But as I rounded the corner, the weight of the phone in my pocket felt like a brand.