Arielle's POV
I couldn’t focus.
The professor’s voice was just… noise. Words floated around me like static, empty and meaningless. I sat there, staring at the whiteboard, but none of it was sinking in. My mind wasn’t in that lecture hall; it was somewhere else.
I kept tapping my pen against my notebook, pretending to take notes. But all I could hear—loud and obnoxiously clear—was the pathetic little voice inside me shouting, "You need to get over him. You need to stop thinking about him. You need to breathe without him taking up space."
The only thing that snapped me out of my daze was the sharp ring of the classroom bell: the end-of-class alarm.
I sighed, more in relief than anything else, and started packing up my things. My hands moved on autopilot—grabbing my books, stuffing pen
