Chapter 40 Aslan
Aslan
When I woke up again the next morning, it wasn’t to chaos.
It was to quiet.
White walls. A steady beep somewhere to my left. The faint scent of disinfectant and coffee.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there.
Then it rushed back.
Bathroom tiles. Max’s voice. Garrett’s face. Trying to convince everyone I was fine after a fifteen-second fainting episode, and the inevitable ride to the hospital…
My chest tightened instinctively, but this time it was manageable. Slow. Controlled.
The doctor had already come and gone once before I was fully alert. “Brief syncopal episode,” he’d said. “Likely triggered by stress and exertion.” I’d nodded like that was new information.
By the time I was cleared for discharge, there was a knock at the door.
Mr. Holt walked in. Still in his academy jacket. Still looking like he hadn’t slept.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“Why didn’t you tell me your heart was acting up?” he asked calmly.
My eyes snapped to him. “Mr. Holt—how did you—?”
He held up a hand gently. “Call me Ryan.”
That threw me off more than the question.
“Medical records transferred from previous schools don’t stay completely hidden,” he continued. “They’re sealed from public access, but staff are informed if there’s something relevant to a student’s safety. I’ve known about your condition since you enrolled.”
My stomach dropped.
“You didn’t think I should know?” he asked, not accusing—just steady.
“I didn’t think anyone needed to,” I admitted.
He nodded slowly. “You scared half my class yesterday. Including me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” His tone sharpened briefly. “You don’t get to risk your health to prove a point. Especially not after my class.”
I lowered my eyes.
He let the reprimand sit for a second. Then his voice softened.
“I also understand,” he said quietly, “why you wouldn’t want that information circulating. You already carry enough attention you didn’t ask for.”
I looked up at him then.
“You don’t need one more reason for people to treat you differently,” he added.
Something in my chest eased.
“Your secret is safe,” he said firmly. “But from now on, you communicate with me. One hundred percent. If you’re breathless, if you’re stressed, if something feels off—I need to know. You can stay in self-defense. You can stay on the team. But only if you’re honest.”
Emotion caught in my throat unexpectedly.
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
He nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”
After the paperwork was signed, he drove me back to the academy.
The ride was quiet, but not awkward. We talked about random things—weather, upcoming tournaments, how bad the hospital coffee had been. He stopped at a small café on the way and came back with hot chocolate without even asking.
My usual order.
I didn’t even ask how he knew.
When we pulled up in front of Crownwell, I reached for the door handle.
“And Aslan,” he said.
I paused.
“What I said about communication? That applies to more than your heart.”
I glanced back at him.
“The doctor mentioned your episode wasn’t just physical,” he added carefully. “Stress matters. Whatever’s going on—you don’t have to carry it alone.”
I nodded. “Thank you… Ryan.”
He gave me a small smile. “Get some rest.”
The moment I stepped onto campus, I barely made it ten feet before I was tackled into a hug.
“Dude! You scared the hell out of me!” James squeezed the life out of me.
“I’m okay,” I laughed weakly. “It was just a small episode. Nothing dramatic.”
“Small?” He pulled back to glare at me. “You dropped like a fainting Victorian heroine.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll survive.”
He walked beside me like a bodyguard, anyway. “You are not leaving my side today. And if anyone—by anyone I mean Garrett—comes within breathing distance of you, I’m throwing punches.”
I laughed despite myself. “Please don’t.”
“You know Max already wants to,” James added.
“What?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned. “He held one of those anti-bullying student council meetings yesterday. Based entirely on what’s been happening to you.”
I stopped walking. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. He invited me. Hoped I’d side with the ‘non-elite’ students against discrimination.”
“And?”
“I told him I’m extremely elite, thank you very much, and not discriminated against at all. I just enjoy the special attention, which is why I allow it.”
I stared at him.
“Oh, my God.”
He shrugged. “What? I’m committed to chaos.”
I shook my head, trying not to smile.
But underneath it all, there was a quiet concern rising inside me. Not for myself… but for him.
I barely lasted ten minutes in my room before the exhaustion caught up to me.
I’d already missed the first two classes and had been excused from the next three. Ryan had insisted. The nurse had insisted even harder.
So I lay back on my bed, phone in hand, answering messages.
Aitor: Let me know when you’re back.
Max: Text me if you need anything.
And one from my best friend back home asking if I’d survived another week at “rich kid prison.”
I smiled faintly.
A knock at the door made me tense.
Not aggressive. Just firm.
“Yeah?”
One of the prefects stood outside. “Director’s office. They’re asking for you.”
Of course, they were. Shit …
I got dressed slowly, my chest tight—not dangerously, just enough to remind me of earlier. I told myself this was fine. Procedural. A student collapses in the bathroom, questions get asked.
Still, dread followed me down the hall.
When I stepped into the director’s office, my stomach dropped.
Max was already there, sitting stiffly beside two other students from self-defense. Witnesses, apparently.
And across the room—
Garrett.
My pulse kicked up.
I crossed quietly and took the empty chair opposite him, keeping my eyes down. I refused to look at him.
I could feel his stare anyway, and when I finally glanced from the corner of my eye, his eyes were fixed on mine—not with anger or even with guilt... but with something else I couldn't quite figure out.
The director started talking—measured, formal, controlled. Words like “incident” and “clarification” and “concern” floated around the room.
Then the door opened.
And the entire atmosphere shifted.
She walked in like the air belonged to her.
Tall. Elegant. Impeccably dressed in a tailored coat that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Dark hair pulled back flawlessly. Jewelry understated but deliberate.
Beautiful in a way that felt strategic.
At first, I didn’t think much of it.
Until I glanced again at Garrett.
The color drained from his face.
Not irritation, not embarrassment... but fear.
Real fear.
His jaw locked so tightly it looked painful. His back went rigid. And in his eyes—something I had never seen before—-terror.
“Mrs. William, welcome.”
She looked at me with curiosity and apprehension before her glare fell on Garrett.
He looked up. “Mother.”
And suddenly I understood.