Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 102: Chapter 102

Elena’s POV:
At first, she didn’t hear me. Of course, she wouldn't. The crowd was too loud; I could barely hear my own voice over the sound of it, let alone hers. She was just a fleeting glimpse in the throng. But something compelled me, a strange urgency that hummed beneath my skin, demanding I reach out.
I called out to her again, louder this time, forcing my voice to cut through the general din like a sharp blade. "Hey!" My hand reached her shoulder on my third shout, a light tap, but enough to make her flinch. She was obviously startled, her shoulders jerking up to her ears as she spun around, her eyes wide, startled like a trapped bird.
She looked around, clearly frantic, her gaze darting from me to the swirling mass of students, as if expecting something terrible to materialize. Her breath hitched. "Yes?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, thin and reedy.
I frowned, softening my expression, trying to project calm. "Hey… Remember me? From that day?" I hesitated, then pushed on, my voice lowering to be more confidential. "Mind if we talk somewhere private? Just for a minute?"
She looked at me, a flicker of suspicion, or perhaps fear, clouding her eyes. Her hesitation was palpable. But then, after a long, silent moment, she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. It was enough.
Her outfit wasn’t that different from mine, a beige hoodie that looked oversized on her, paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that swirled around her ankles. Where I wore a dark grey hoodie and cargo pants.
Her dark hair, fine and straight, was mostly hidden beneath the hood, but stray strands framed her face, partially obscuring her features, as if she were trying to disappear into herself. There was a quietness about her, a fragility that resonated with something deep inside me.
We made our way through the congested hallway, pushing against the flow of students until we finally reached the relative quiet of the university’s main gates.
"There's a cafeteria across the road," I offered, gesturing with my chin. "We could grab some coffee, if you want? It’s usually pretty quiet there this time of day." I tried to make my tone as inviting as possible, a casual offer, not a demand.
She looked at the bustling street, then back at me, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her sleeve. "No," she said, her voice still low, almost a whisper. "Thank you. But… what is it you want, really? You don't have to beat around the bush." Her eyes, when they met mine, were guarded, wary, as if she expected a trick. The directness of her question, stripped of any pretense, made me uncomfortable. I hadn’t anticipated such a blunt approach.
My own discomfort aside, I pressed on, realizing I hadn't even thought to ask her name. "You're right," I said, a small, awkward laugh escaping my lips. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't even know your name."
Her shoulders stiffened imperceptibly. "Mielle," she offered, her voice barely audible over the distant traffic.
"Mielle," I repeated, letting the name settle on my tongue. "It's a beautiful name." She blushed faintly at that, a splash of color across her pale cheeks.
Then, to my surprise, her demeanor shifted. She became visibly frantic, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Look, Elena," she blurted out, her words tumbling over each other in a rush, "I'll stay away from Dmitri, okay? I promise. Whatever happened, it won't happen again." Her eyes, wide and pleading, darted around, as if expecting him to appear out of thin air.
I frowned, genuinely confused by her sudden panic. "I'm not telling you to stay away from anyone, Mielle," I said, my voice gentle, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "Although… Dmitri isn't the nicest guy. He's… complicated. It's your own private matter what you guys do. I just wanted to ask if you’re okay. You seemed… well, it just sort of seemed to me like you were afraid that day. In the janitor's closet." The memory of her flashed vividly in my mind.
Her shoulders visibly stiffened at the mention of that day, as if the words themselves physically constrained her. A cold dread seeped into my bones, affirming my gut feeling that something truly awful had happened. She looked away, her gaze fixed on the bustling street, anything but me.
"Please," I tried again, stepping a little closer, lowering my voice further. "Please don't be afraid. If something's wrong or those guys were messing with you, then you can tell me, okay?" I knew I was grasping at straws, offering comfort I could barely provide for myself, it was stupid, I didn’t even know this girl, but the urge to protect her was overwhelming. My own life was a chaotic mess, spiraling out of control, but in this moment, looking at Mielle, I felt a strange sense of strength. I knew that if I suspected those guys of truly harassing her, of putting her in a situation she didn’t want to be in, I could just tell Nikolai. Or even Sergei. It's not like I was asking for help for myself.
A person like Mielle seemed like she would break at the slightest wrong touch. I didn't know why, but I felt a sort of kinship towards her, like she was a small, lost cat I’d stumbled upon.
Mielle, however, shook her head roughly, a frantic denial, her hair swaying around her face like a curtain. "No, no, I'm completely fine," she insisted, her voice tight, strained. "Whatever happened was my own fault. I… I was careless. And anyways, it's the last day of university, right? It's not a good idea to cause any trouble." She offered a wide, forced smile, a desperate attempt to reassure me, or perhaps herself, that everything was perfectly normal. It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
My lips pressed into a thin line. It would be useless to continue pursuing this. Her eyes were glazed over with a defensive stubbornness, a clear refusal to engage further. She wasn’t going to confide in me, not here, not now. But I couldn't just walk away, not after seeking her out.
"Okay," I said, conceding the point, letting out a small sigh. "Then… would you like to join me for some cake and coffee?" I paused, then added, trying to make it sound appealing, almost a plea for companionship. "To celebrate the last day of Uni? I was heading over to the cafe across the street anyway. It’s always nice to have company on days like these." I purposefully made it sound like I was lonely, like she’d be taking pity on me if she agreed. It was a calculated risk, a small manipulation, but I desperately wanted to connect with her. If I left it at this then I had a feeling that I was going to regret it.
Mielle seemed to ponder it for a long while, her gaze fixed on the ground, her brow furrowed in thought. I watched her, holding my breath, unsure if she would accept, if she would trust me enough. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, a hesitant nod. "It's… alright," she said, her voice a little stronger this time, a sliver of genuine relief in her eyes. "I guess a little celebration wouldn't hurt."
A wave of quiet triumph washed over me. And so, we headed toward the cafe across the university, its glass front already shimmering with the reflections of other students inside, celebrating their newfound freedom. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries wafted out, a comforting, familiar scent. We waded our way through the bustling tables on the ground floor and headed up the worn wooden stairs to the second floor, which was slightly less crowded, offering a bit more privacy.
We both ordered our stuff—a strong black coffee for me, a matcha latte for her and a box of macarons—and found a small table nestled near the window, overlooking the steady stream of students below. The distant murmur of conversations provided a soothing backdrop. As we waited for our drinks, I formally introduced myself, extending a hand across the table. "I'm Elena. It's really nice to meet you, Mielle."
She smiled, a small, genuine curve of her lips this time, and took my hand. "I know who you are, Elena. Nikolai Vetrov's wife." The words, though delivered gently, hit me like a physical blow, stripping away the brief, fragile moment of normalcy. "You're famous around here."
My smile fell, a lead weight dropping in my stomach. The warmth that had started to spread through me evaporated instantly, replaced by a familiar chill. "Right… the billionaire's wife," I mocked lightly.
But then, Mielle quickly interjected, her eyes widening as if she realized her mistake. "That's not what I meant!" she blurted out, her cheeks flushing. "I mean, that's just something what I recently heard. But you've… been popular since freshman year. You were the most talented one. I saw your projects… you're very talented." Her words tumbled out in a rush, a frantic blabbering that surprised me. All of a sudden, my face felt hot, a blush spreading from my neck to my hairline. It had been so long since anyone in the university had looked past the scandalous headlines, past the 'billionaire's wife' or ‘switched grooms’ label, to see me, Elena Kovalyova.
"Wow," I murmured, genuinely taken aback. "I never thought someone would be complimenting me like this."
"Really?" Mielle asked, her eyes gleaming with genuine enthusiasm. She leaned forward, a small, infectious smile gracing her lips. "I've been a fan of yours since junior year. After that Ergonomic Adaptive Vehicle (EAV) you submitted that was fourth place. I really thought it should've been first. The mechanics of it were so detailed, and the fact that you integrated the AI system… Most people would just think that people with disabilities shouldn't drive, but personally, I think your design was wonderful and more affordable at that." She seemed more excited now, her initial shyness completely forgotten as she animatedly sipped her matcha latte.
A genuine smile, wide and unforced, stretched across my face. It felt like it had been days, weeks even, since I'd truly smiled, since anything had genuinely lifted my spirits. It felt good. More than good. "You really think so?" The words were barely a whisper, imbued with a quiet hope I hadn't realized I possessed.