Unraveling His Arrogance

My skin burned with a high fever, a cold sweat chilling my back. I stood frozen, watching Zayne, my boyfriend of three years.

He leaned in close, his tone soft and patient as he helped his sweet underclassman, Piper, finish that crucial project presentation.

Because of his blatant favoritism, the fullride Ivy League scholarship I had poured my life into was permanently gone. He didn't even bother to lift his gaze from the screen.

His voice was flat and icecold as he told me to go ahead and throw my little tantrum. The last trace of warmth in my chest died out, leaving only a hollow ache.

I turned on my heel and slid our promise ring off my finger. I dropped it straight into the trash.

Chapter 1 "Just because I covered for her and not you?" "Yeah." Zayne's tone remained deadpan. "Fine.

Suit yourself." He dropped his gaze back to his code, not sparing me another glance. Because of that, I never got the chance to tell him the truth.

Missing that crucial project presentation meant an automatic fail. I had lost my shot at the direct Ivy League admission program, forcing me to reroute my future.

We were going to be oceans apart. We would probably never see each other again. Before leaving, I dumped every single thing connected to Zayne straight into the trash.

Including the promise ring. Later, rumors went around. They said the genius golden boy of the computer science department—a guy who was notoriously a germaphobe—lost his damn mind.

He supposedly dug through a mountain of garbage with his bare hands until dawn, all for a single ring. "Just because I covered for her and not you?" The massive lecture hall had already emptied out.

Zayne casually lifted his eyes to meet mine, his dark pupils devoid of anything resembling emotion. I gave a single nod. "Yeah.

We're done here." His gaze lingered on me for exactly two seconds. Two seconds, and not a millisecond more.

He shifted his attention right back down to the unfinished project on his laptop screen, cutting me out of his field of vision. "Fine.

Whatever you want." Even Piper, standing innocently by his side, shot me a look that mimicked concern.

Yet Zayne, the guy who had been my boyfriend for three whole years, didn't even notice the aggressive, unnatural flush on my face from running a high fever for three straight days.

A bitter, selfdeprecating smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

I pivoted to walk away, but Piper's hand clamped onto my arm. "Zayne only helped me out because we pulled allnighters together on this project all week.

He knew I just ran out to grab breakfast and would be right back, so he covered for me." She held out a paper bag. "He even asked me to bring you an iced Americano and a bagel.

It's really not what you think, Maren." The fever already had the room spinning on a tilt. Caught off guard by the sudden pull, my knees buckled, and I crashed hard onto the floor.

My kneecaps scraped brutally against the edge of the lecture hall steps.

In my weakened state, the sharp, stinging pain flared up my legs like electricity, forcing a hot prickle of tears to the back of my eyes. "Oh my god, Maren!" Piper scrambled to help me up, her eyes constantly darting toward Zayne, practically begging for some sort of reaction from him.

But she clearly didn't know how Zayne operated.

At the commotion, he looked up, a slight crease forming between his brows. "Piper, do you have too much free time on your hands?" Piper, who was just opening her mouth to explain it was an accident, froze in her tracks. "Huh?" He pointed at the screen. "If you're so free, get over here and finish your part of the code." I met Zayne's dead, stagnant eyes.

The realization finally settled into my bones like ice.

He was an unmovable mountain—a force of nature that would never, under any circumstances, shift an inch for my sake. "Maybe this is for the best.

If you stay here, you'll just be constantly suppressed under his shadow anyway," my advisor said through the phone. "You're much better off heading to Europe or the US.

They have toptier labs that are perfectly suited for your research focus." I hung up the call.

Fighting through the brain fog of my fever, I dragged myself to my desk and started organizing my grad school application materials. My advisor was right.

My research niche was highly specific. Limiting myself to this single institution had practically put a ceiling over my head.

But now, looking at the global landscape, a whole new roster of elite universities suddenly opened up before me. The sheer volume of toptier choices was almost overwhelming.

The world felt infinitely wider.

For a second, staring at the glowing monitor, I really didn't know why I had spent all these years in this Ivy League pressure cooker full of certified geniuses, bleeding myself dry just to fight for that one direct admission slot.

Chapter 2 My phone screen flared to life. A new notification. It was a social media update from my starred contact: Zayne. Zayne never posted online.

Even when he finally agreed to date me, my name never once graced his feed.

When I pushed him on it, his tone was flat, dripping with impatience. "Why the hell would I broadcast my private life to the public?" I told him that was just what people did.

Didn't everyone want to share their happiness and get a little celebration from their friends? I kept rambling, trying to justify it.

Zayne didn't even bother looking up from his screen. "Maren, Professor Elias in the philosophy department is teaching a logic seminar this fall.

I highly suggest you enroll." My jaw snapped shut. We dropped the subject. So what exactly warranted a post from Zayne now? I tapped open the app. [Project wrapped.

Successfully secured an eightfigure funding round from a top Silicon Valley VC.] The attached picture was a group shot of his project team at a celebration dinner.

Zayne was carelessly holding his phone, his features slightly blurred. He had probably been staring at his screen and only glanced up the second the shutter clicked.

It didn't matter. The raw, sharp angles of his face still dominated the frame. It was the kind of aggressive good looks that instantly yanked your attention straight to him.

It was no wonder Hollywood scouts had tracked him down back in high school, waving massive checks in his face to drag him into teen movies. My gaze drifted slightly to the right.

Piper, the newest addition to his team, was right there in the frame. She stood out, too—mostly because she was the only one entirely ignoring the camera.

She pressed in right next to Zayne, obliterating the lines of normal personal space. Her eyes were locked onto the side of his face, intense and hyperfocused.

The sheer adoration in her stare practically bled through the pixels.

Below the picture, a flood of comments from his frat brothers piled up, all asking the exact same thing: Had Zayne finally let the girl who was always buzzing around him secure the top spot?

Zayne hadn't replied to a single one. The glaring light of my phone screen slowly dimmed. Dimmed again. Then it snapped black. I jerked out of my trance.

My thumb hit the glass, unlocking the screen. I navigated straight to his profile, removed his starred status, and hit block.

The question I had asked myself earlier finally clicked into place. Why had I bled myself dry just to fight for that direct admission slot? Because of Zayne.

Obviously, because of Zayne. He could snatch up that direct Ivy League admission slot without breaking a sweat.

I just wanted to prove I had what it took to stand next to him, to stay with him. That was the only reason I had pushed myself to the breaking point. Just like back then.

I had been just another girl in a long line lining up to confess to him.

He had looked drained, a heavy scowl dragging down his features like he was silently screaming, Not another one. Don't you people ever quit?

He had finally pinned me with a dismissive glare. "I don't date girls with garbage grades.

If you can actually get into my university, I might consider it." He was a teenage prodigy. He had already secured his early admission to a toptier Ivy League.

The sheer academic wall required to get into an Ivy was usually enough to make anyone back down and walk away in shame. But I didn't flinch.

I spent my junior and senior years studying like my life depended on it, grinding so hard my own parents had to beg me to take a break.

I would never forget freshmen orientation day at that Ivy League campus. I had marched right up to Zayne. "I got in.

Time to make good on your promise." The look in his eyes when he finally registered my face—it was a rare, genuine flash of absolute shock.

I dragged myself across campus to print out the thick stack of international application forms.

By the time I shoved my key into the lock of my offcampus apartment, my head was spinning uncontrollably. I collapsed straight onto the mattress and let the darkness take over.

When my eyes finally dragged open, Zayne was sitting right on the edge of my bed.

The curtains shifted lazily in the breeze, filtering the dying, amber light of sunset into the room. For a second, the whole thing felt like a fever dream.

Chapter 3 He reached out, his palm pressing against my forehead.

A glass of warm water and a halfempty blister pack of meds sat on the nightstand. "Why didn't you tell me you were burning up? Does it still hurt?" Yep. Definitely a hallucination.

I didn't know why, but hot, heavy tears kept tracking down my cheeks, soaking the pillowcase