The classroom was alive with the dull thrum of teenage noise - books slamming shut, chairs scraping, whispers swelling beneath the teacher's voice like waves against a crumbling dock.

But Aiden Veran didn't speak.

He never did.

He sat in the last row, closest to the window, where sunlight filtered through dusty panes and painted lines across his skin. Six foot three, broad-shouldered, lean-muscled like a fighter, yet his presence was silent. Not shy. Not awkward. Just... quiet.

He didn't need to raise his voice. He didn't need to prove anything.

He was.

Everyone in class knew of him, but no one knew him. And he preferred it that way.

Ms. Elira Vance stalked across the classroom, heels tapping sharply against the tile.

Ms. Vance (sternly):

"If you fail this term again, don't expect me to spoon-feed you during your retakes. This is college, not a babysitting center."

Her voice was cool, clipped - like glass before it breaks.

She wasn't old. Maybe twenty-eight. Young enough to still have fire in her, strict enough to keep a class full of slackers from falling apart. Her dark hair was pinned in a tight bun, glasses perched with militant precision. No nonsense. No softness.

Aiden watched her, emotionless. She wasn't wrong. Most of the students were lazy. But her strictness had made enemies. And today? he could feel something was off.

Later that day - After class.

The hallway buzzed with students pouring out. But something tugged at Aiden's senses.

He stopped at the corner near the old maintenance room. Faint voices. Raised. Angry. Muffled against the concrete.

Then -

A thud. A scream.

Aiden's eyes sharpened.

Inside the maintenance room...

Three boys from his class - Marcus, Bren, and Leo - stood over Ms. Vance. Her arm was twisted behind her, a bruise forming on her cheek. One of them had kicked her; she was gripping her abdomen, breathing heavily.

Marcus (spitting):

"Think you're untouchable, huh? Docking marks for late homework? Making us look like fools?"

Bren:

"Teach, you brought this on yourself."

Aiden stepped inside. Silent. Unannounced.

They turned - and froze.

His gaze didn't waver. No words. Just presence. Like gravity.

Leo (nervously):

"The hell...? Veran? What - you gonna play hero?"

He didn't answer. He dropped his bag, rolled his neck once.

Then it happened fast.

A blur. A step forward. A punch to Marcus' gut. Another elbow to Leo's jaw. Bren tried to run - but Aiden swept his leg, crashing him into the cleaning supplies rack.

In under ten seconds - it was over.

The room fell silent again.

Ms. Vance sat against the wall, holding her side. Her blouse was slightly torn, blood near her waist.

Aiden crouched. Opened his bag. Pulled out a small med kit.

Ms. Vance (voice shaking):

"I... I'm fine. You don't have to..."

Still, no words from him. He gently pushed her blouse up to examine the injury, careful not to expose more than needed. His fingers were steady. Hands warm. The bruise was ugly - dark purple, already swelling.

She watched him work in silence, her breath caught somewhere between pain and disbelief.

Ms. Vance (softly):

"You're... surprisingly gentle for someone who just knocked out three people."

He cleaned the wound, applied pressure, then wrapped a cloth around her abdomen.

She looked down, flustered.

Ms. Vance (whispering):

"You didn't even blink when they attacked me..."

Aiden stood. Slung his bag over his shoulder. Eyes met hers for one fleeting moment.

Still nothing said.

Then he turned - and walked away, leaving her stunned in silence.

Later that night - at home

The house was quiet. Aiden liked it that way. He opened the front door and was greeted by the scent of cardamom tea.

Lily (playfully):

"Aiden! You're late again. Let me guess - lost in your books?"

His younger sister stood by the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. Seventeen. Smart. Energetic. Always trying to get through to her brother.

Aiden offered the faintest smile, walked past her, and ruffled her hair.

Lily (grinning):

"That's the only affection I'll get this week, huh? Figures."

His mother, Mariel Veran, stepped in from the living room. Graceful. Mid-forties. A woman who'd carried pain with elegance.

Mariel:

"Dinner's still warm. Selena kept it for you."

Selena.

His aunt.

Thirty. Stunning. Single. Mysterious. His father's sister who had been living with them ever since the accident that had taken her fianc�'s life years ago. She wasn't just an aunt. She was a shadow. A presence. A magnet.

Aiden walked past the kitchen and saw her - standing near the stove, in a soft maroon robe. A single light above her made her hair shimmer.

Selena (smirking slightly):

"You always come home like a ghost. But you eat like a lion."

He didn't reply. But his gaze lingered on her just a second longer than it should have.

She noticed.

Selena (quietly):

"I warmed your plate."

Later that night, as everyone slept, the house was silent.

Except for one room.

The door barely clicked shut.

Sheets rustled.

A hand touched his chest, slowly. Familiar.

A breath against his neck.

Two shadows entangled in the dark.

No words.

No promises.

Just silence.

END OF CHAPTER 1