Y/n sat alone near the far window, a half-eaten sandwich pushed to the side as worn notebook pages spread across the table. Highlighter in hand, head down, lost in the margins of a biology lecture. Everyone else seemed to exist in a different world—louder, easier, unbothered. But that was fine. That was the plan.

Then something slammed onto the table.

A carton of milk. Burst open on impact. White liquid surged across the notes, soaking through pages of careful handwriting, smearing ink and bleeding through to the table beneath.

The cafeteria went quiet.

Slowly, Y/n looked up.

Adler Griffin stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets. His friends hovered behind him—Lucas with a grin already forming, Damien looking less amused. The golden boy of the university, the captain, the engineering star. Everyone knew his face. Everyone knew his name.

But the smile on his lips wasn't the warm one from the campus brochure. It was sharper. Curious. Almost pleased.

The whispers started low, spreading table to table. Why would Adler Griffin do that? That wasn't like him. Unless she did something. What did she do?

Y/n said nothing. Instead, fingers moved to the napkin dispenser, pulling a handful of tissues. Pressing them into the ruined pages, soaking up what could be saved. Carefully. Methodically. The notes were still there, mostly legible, good enough to rewrite.

The silence stretched. Adler's grin flickered, just slightly.