Chapter 17 CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 17
YAEL
Something about him looked… off.
Knox wasn’t the usual brand of chaos this morning.
Sure, the stupid smirk was still there, but his eyes—yeah, his eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
I spotted him leaning against the table at the front of the student committee hall, arms crossed, pretending to listen to someone talk about budget allocations. Everyone was scattered across the room, talking in groups, pretending this wasn’t just another forced “pre-gala preparation” meeting.
I tried to ignore him. Really, I did. But it was like his presence had its own gravity—annoying, magnetic, and impossible to resist.
“Yael.”
His voice came from behind me, low, smooth, and way too close.
I stiffened, clutching my notes tighter. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
He walked around to face me, leaning on the table like he owned it. “Good morning to you too, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, not looking up.
He tilted his head. “What? Princess? It suits you. All the fire, none of the patience.”
I sighed. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“No. But you do blush easily.”
“I’m not—” I started, then realized my cheeks were, in fact, warm. “Oh, for God’s sake—”
He laughed, the sound hoarse, rougher than usual. Not his normal arrogant, playful tone. There was something underneath it—like he was using humor as duct tape over something cracked.
I glanced at him properly this time, and yeah… the dark circles under his eyes gave him away.
“You look like you got hit by a truck,” I said flatly.
He raised a brow. “You’re saying I look bad? That’s harsh.”
“I’m saying you look tired. There’s a difference.”
He shrugged, looking away for a moment. “Didn’t sleep much.”
That part of me that should’ve stayed quiet—the one that liked to pretend I didn’t care—stirred.
But I ignored it, flipping open my folder. “Maybe stop running around pulling random students into committees for fun.”
His smirk came back, faintly. “But then I wouldn’t get to see you.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly left orbit. “You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that,” he said, lowering his voice, “yet here you are. Again.”
“Because you texted me saying it was the Dean’s order,” I hissed.
He smiled lazily. “Technically, it’s not a lie. The Dean did say to gather the most capable people. You just happen to be one of them.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait. Was that—did you just give me a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
I opened my mouth to fire back, but the sound of someone calling his name cut through the air. One of the committee leads waved him over, and he sighed, pushing off the table. “Duty calls.”
“Go,” I muttered. “Save the world, Knox.”
He started to walk off, then paused. “You should smile more, Yael.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He gave a half-shrug, smirk softening just slightly. “You’re prettier when you’re not plotting my death.”
My jaw dropped. “I—what—Knox!”
But he was already halfway across the room, laughing as someone handed him a stack of files.
The rest of the meeting dragged on. I tried to focus, but my brain was stuck somewhere between what the hell was that and why did his voice sound tired when he laughed?
After the meeting, everyone was filtering out in groups, chatting about decorations and charity sponsors. I hung back, gathering my papers slowly. Maybe too slowly.
Knox appeared beside me again like a ghost that refused to stay dead.
“So,” he said, “are you free this afternoon?”
“Why?”
“Need help setting up the stage layout.”
I frowned. “Why me?”
He grinned. “Because you’re the only one who argues with me without crying.”
“That’s not a compliment,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“It’s an observation.” He picked up half my papers without asking and started walking toward the door. “Come on, princess.”
“I told you not to—ugh.” I groaned and followed. “Do you listen to anything I say?”
“Not really,” he said easily.
Outside, the sun was bright, too bright for how heavy he looked beside me.
And for a brief moment, I caught it—the crack in his mask. The way his jaw clenched. The way his hands tightened when he thought no one was looking.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked quietly.
He glanced at me, surprised. “What?”
“You just… don’t look like yourself today.”
He smiled, small and tired. “Maybe I’m evolving.”
“That’s not funny.”
He stopped walking, turned slightly toward me. “You really care that much, huh?”
I hesitated, heat creeping up my neck. “No. I just don’t want you dying before the event. You’re the head. It’d be inconvenient.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Right. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“I’m serious,” I said, glaring. “You should get some sleep. You look like you fought a war.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. Then, quietly, “Yeah. Something like that.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he shook his head, that grin sliding back into place like armor. “Now come on. Let’s go ruin someone’s day with our superior efficiency.”
“Knox—”
“Hmm?”
“Sometimes I hate you.”
He smiled, and this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s fine. At least it means I make you feel something.”
And just like that, he walked ahead, leaving me standing there, completely speechless and a little off-balance.
I exhaled, muttering to myself, “He’s so annoying.”
But the truth?
I couldn’t stop looking at the back of his head as he walked away.
And wondering what, or who, had broken something behind those tired eyes.
I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
I’d only gone to grab a file from the committee office—some papers Knox left behind for the gala logistics. But then I heard his voice.
“No, I said don’t touch her again.”
I froze. The sound bled through the half-closed door, rough with a kind of fury that made my stomach twist.
Then silence. A rough exhale.
And the next word came out so quietly, I almost missed it.
“Dad.”
My heart sank.
He sounded nothing like the Knox I knew—the one who smirked through every sentence, who acted like the world was his stage. This voice was darker. Broken.
The silence stretched, and I could hear his breathing.
Something hit the floor with a loud crash, and I flinched.
That was when I ran.
I didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to breathe. I just ran out of the building and down the hall until my chest burned.
I didn’t even know why I was running.
Maybe because it hurt. Because I’d seen him all week laughing, teasing, like nothing could ever touch him—and now I’d heard the crack beneath that.
By the time I got back to the dorm after classes and errands, it was evening. The sky was turning gold outside, and everything inside felt… still.
The others weren’t back yet. The place was quiet.
I pushed the door open, and my steps halted.
Knox was there.
On the floor.
His head leaned against the couch, his jacket tossed nearby. His eyes closed, his body limp with exhaustion.
“What the hell…” I whispered, walking closer.
He looked awful. Pale. Tired.
There was a faint bruise near his temple. His knuckles—raw.
“Knox?” I crouched down, brushing his arm.
No answer.
“Knox,” I said again, a little louder this time.
He only muttered something incoherent, shifting slightly but not waking up.
“God,” I sighed under my breath. “You look like you wrestled a wall.”
Still nothing. His lashes rested against his skin, his face calm now—too calm.
For a second, I thought about leaving him there.
He’d probably wake up and make some dumb joke, something like, ‘Couldn’t resist staring at me, could you?’
Yeah, no thanks.
But I didn’t move.
Instead, I sat down beside him. My heart was beating too fast, too stupidly.
His head tilted a little toward my knee, and before I could stop myself, I gently adjusted him—lifting his head, letting it rest on my lap.
I stared down at him.
His hair was soft between my fingers. Messy. A little damp like he’d walked through rain.
“What are you doing to me,” I muttered quietly, brushing a strand from his forehead.
He didn’t stir.
Just breathed. Slowly.
I sighed and leaned back against the couch, my hand still in his hair.
For a moment, I thought, I must be crazy.
Because the longer I sat there, the more I didn’t want to move.
Eventually
, my eyes started to blur, the day catching up with me.
Somewhere between one breath and the next, I drifted off too—his weight warm and steady against my lap, the quiet sound of rain outside swallowing the silence.