Chapter 21 SPECTACLE OF SORROW
POV SYLVIE
The Astoria University cafeteria, known as the "Great Hall of Gossip," was usually a place I avoided when I felt like my life was a dumpster fire. But today, I had no choice. I needed the strongest, most industrial-grade caffeine available to numb the throbbing ache in my skull and the hollow pit in my stomach.
I walked in with my hood pulled up, eyes shielded by dark sunglasses even though we were indoors. I looked like a celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi or, more accurately, a girl who had spent the last eight hours crying into a pillow.
I was halfway to the coffee counter when the room went silent. Not a normal "the-professor-just-walked-in" silent, but a vacuum-seal, "something-is-about-to-explode" silent.
I froze. My heart, which had been a lead weight all morning, suddenly started to thud.
No. Not now. Please, not now.
I turned around, and there he was.
Nathaniel Cavill was walking through the double doors, and he looked like a god of chaos. His hair was a mess, his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and he looked like he hadn't slept a minute. But it wasn't his appearance that had the entire student body dropping their forks.
In his arms was a bouquet of peonies—hundreds of them—so large they practically obscured his chest. They were a violent, beautiful shade of pink, the exact color of the dress I’d mentioned I liked in a passing comment three weeks ago.
"Sylvie," he called out. His voice wasn't smooth or corporate. It was raw. It was a command and a plea all at once.
"Nathaniel, what are you doing?" I hissed, my face heating up despite my best efforts to remain a robot.
He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of me, the scent of the flowers—sweet, floral, and overwhelming—filling the space between us. "You didn't answer your door. You didn't answer your phone. I thought maybe you’d forgotten that we don't just 'end' things in a hallway."
"Nathaniel, go away," I whispered, glancing around at the hundreds of students who were now filming us on their phones. "You’re making a scene. You’re violating the terms. You’re going to get me expelled."
"Let them watch," he said, his eyes burning into mine. He didn't care about Arthur. He didn't care about the Board. He looked like a man who had decided to set his entire empire on fire just to get my attention. "I don't care about the terms, Sylvie. I don't care about the scholarship. If they take it, I'll pay it. If they kick you out, I’m leaving too."
"You’re being a teenager!" I snapped, the anger finally bubbling up to cover the pain. "You’re being impulsive and reckless! This isn't your life on the line, Nathaniel! It’s mine! My mother’s! You can’t just 'pay' for my dignity!"
"I’m being a man who loves you!" he roared, the words echoing off the high ceilings.
The entire cafeteria gasped. A few people actually dropped their trays. The "L-word." He’d said it. In public. In the middle of a war.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to run away until my legs gave out. Instead, I did the only thing I could to protect us both.
I laughed. It was a cold, brittle, mocking sound that felt like glass cutting my throat.
"Love?" I said, stepping back, projecting my voice so every phone could catch the rejection. "Nathaniel, look at yourself. You’re a Cavill. You don't love people; you possess them. These flowers? This scene? It’s just another way for you to control the narrative because I dared to say 'no' to you last night."
Nathaniel’s face went pale. The hand holding the bouquet trembled. "Sylvie, don't do this. I know what my grandfather said. I know you're scared. But don't lie to me. Not like this."
"I’m not scared. I’m bored," I lied, and every word felt like a sin. "The 'Fake Engagement' was fun while it lasted. It got me my scholarship back. It got me the clout I needed. But I’m a law student, Nathaniel. I’m practical. And a future with you isn't a future—it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Take your peonies and give them to Elena. I’m sure she’s still looking for a bank account to marry."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Nathaniel looked at me, and for a second, the "Academic Rival" was back. But there was no playfulness in his gaze. Only a deep, jagged betrayal.
He looked at the flowers, then back at me. Slowly, he let go.
The bouquet hit the floor with a soft thud, the pink petals scattering across the dirty linoleum like drops of blood.
"I thought you were different," he said, his voice a low, broken whisper. "I thought you were the only real thing in this entire city. But you’re just like them, aren't you? You’re just better at the math."
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked out of the cafeteria, his head held high, his shoulders tense. He didn't look back.
I stood there, staring at the pink peonies on the floor. My vision was blurring, but I forced the tears back. I could feel the eyes of the entire university on me. I could hear the whispers starting—the words "gold digger," "heartless," "ice queen" floating through the air.
I did it, I thought. I saved the scholarship. I saved my mom. I saved Nathaniel from his own impulsiveness.
So why did it feel like I’d just murdered the only person who ever truly saw me?
I walked forward, stepping right over the flowers. I didn't look down. I walked to the counter, ordered my coffee, and paid with my student card. My hand didn't shake. My voice didn't crack. I was the perfect robot.
I walked out of the cafeteria and headed straight for the library. I had a seminar in ten minutes. I had a life to build. I had a future to secure.
But as I sat in my usual corner, staring at a page of notes I couldn't read, I realized that Arthur Cavill had won more than just a contract. He had proven that the only thing stronger than love in the Cavill world was the fear of being nothing.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the silver ring. I hadn't put it on this morning. I looked at it, the diamond mocking me with its cold, hard light.
"I’m sorry," I whispered into the silence of the library.
I put the ring in the very bottom of my bag, underneath my heavy textbooks. I told myself I wouldn't look at it again. I told myself that the pain would eventually turn into a dull ache, and then into nothing at all.
But as the afternoon sun moved across the floor, I knew I was lying. Nathaniel Cavill had brought me a forest of pink peonies, and I had trampled them into the dust. The war wasn't over. But as I sat there, a brilliant girl with a perfect GPA and a shattered heart, I realized that some victories feel exactly like a defeat.
I closed my eyes and for a second, I could still smell the flowers. I could still hear his voice. I’m a man who loves you.
"Then you should have picked someone easier to love," I murmured, and finally, a single, lonely tear escaped my sunglasses and hit the cold mahogany of the desk.