Chapter 175 Lasagna
Chapter 175 Lasagna
TESSA
“Pure Magic…” Mr. Thompson started off, his voice carrying through the classroom.
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“In recent years, it has become a norm in medicine. Truly, it has shaped what we are today, especially in the use of potions. It is undeniable that werewolves are equipped with the skills to wield it since our very evolution.”
Mr. Thompson was currently teaching Pure Magic in the Modern World, and judging by his tone, he was in love with the subject.
His eyes gleamed, his hands moved like a conductor in front of an orchestra. It was obvious this was where his heart was-not in Combat. With Mr. Winters’ departure, he finally had a chance to teach it.
“However,” Mr. Thompson went on, “magic, of course, has its ups and downs. With the presence of shifters in the modern world, we try to keep these things hidden from humans. Greedy bastards. If they knew of us and the magic we have, then they’d go ballistic. But then again, we’re not necessarily better. In the upcoming years, there has been a push toward a more liberal use of magic. Dangerous, I tell you.”
Some of the students leaned forward, caught in his knowledge.
“It’s like the AI epidemic in humans,” he said suddenly, chuckling at his own analogy. “Their obsession with artificial intelligence. Magic is our equivalent. Everyone wants it, everyone wants to study it, everyone wants to bend it. And not everyone should.” His lips twisted. “Although, of course, not everyone can. Those who are born with a true gift remain… rare. Exceptionally rare. We don’t even know if such wolves exist anymore.”
A collective gasp and murmurs swept across the rows of students. Questions bubbled instantly.
I caught Arden from next to me, her brows lifted in curiosity. She was probably already drafting a hundred notes to compare later.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t focus on a single word.
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Chapter 175 Lasagna
I was fucked if we had a quiz.
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Mr. Thompson’s passion became background noise. His words blurred into a hum, and all I could think about was how heavy my chest had felt these past few weeks. It has been more than a month now. More than a month since that night. Since Rowan marked me.
We hadn’t spoken. Not once.
I told myself I should be used to it. He had ignored me before, hadn’t he? He pushed me away, avoided me, looked right through me. But right now, the mark made it impossible.
My hand lifted without permission, brushing the side of my neck. The faint burn, the pulse, the invisible thread binding me to him-it never dulled. If anything, it grew stronger with the silence between us, as though every day of distance only pulled us tighter, not looser.
I shut my eyes briefly. Stop thinking about him, Tessa. You’ll drive yourself insane.
“…So, with this subject,” Mr. Thompson’s voice sharpened again, yanking me halfway back into the present, “I hope you understand that magic in the modern world does not have to be bad. It simply requires regulation. Because once magic is wielded by dark hands, it can be devastating. It can unravel balance itself. It can lead to the end of kingdoms, of alliances, of… life as we know it.”
A heavy silence fell across the classroom.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, staring at the dry-erase pen markings scrawled across the board, the neat little equations of magical flow and potion measurements. None of it stuck. None of it mattered, at least not to my head right now. My heart was in another war.
“That’s it!” Mr. Thompson finally clapped his hands, his grin returning. “Prepare for a quiz next week.”
Groans filled the room instantly. Chairs squeaked, books slammed shut, and a few students buried their heads dramatically on their desks.
Meanwhile, I froze, my lips pursed tightly. I was so screwed. I didn’t even know which chapter we were supposed to read.
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Chapter 175 Lasagna
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Before I could gather my things, a familiar arm slung itself over my shoulders.
“Come on,” Arden said, her grin mischievous but comforting. It was the only class we shared, and she always looked forward to dragging me out of it. “I heard they’re going to be serving lasagna today. It’s been ages!”
Her voice was bright, full of that stubborn spark that never dimmed, no matter what the world threw at her.
“We love the cafeteria’s lasagna,” she added knowingly, tugging at me before I could protest.
And just like that, my thoughts were pulled away, at least for a moment.
I let her drag me toward the cafeteria.
I rubbed my temples while Arden bounced off to the counter, insisting she’d bring me food. She must have thought I was sad or something-she always knew, somehow. She didn’t pry, didn’t press questions when I wasn’t ready to answer them. But she still gave me her small, steady assurances in gestures like these.
I sighed and dragged my fingers through my hair, shaking loose the knots I had been pulling at all morning. I shouldn’t be like this anymore. I had people around me who were willing to stand with me. Arden especially.
I straightened in my seat, forcing my shoulders back, and practiced a smile. It felt stiff at first, but eventually it settled on my face the way a mask does. That was enough. No one needed to see the restless ache underneath.
Arden returned then, balancing a tray that smelled like heaven to anyone else. She grinned proudly, dropping it down in front of me. “They had lasagna. Double serving.”
The smile on my lips faltered in an instant.
The scent hit me-tomato sauce heavy and rich, cheese still bubbling, garlic bread steaming on the side-and suddenly my stomach lurched. It was like someone had flipped the air inside me upside down. My throat closed up before I could even say
a word.
Arden’s grin faded, her brow creasing. “What’s wrong?”
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Chapter 175 Lasagna
I couldn’t breathe through it. The mix of tomato and cheese that used to make me salivate, now twisted my insides. I shoved my chair back so quickly it screeched against the floor. “Restroom,” I muttered, not waiting for her reaction.
The moment I pushed open the restroom door, I braced against the nearest stall and fell to my knees. My body tried to heave up something that wasn’t there. Nothing came but dry spasms, hollow and pitiful. My palms pressed against the cool edge of the porcelain, my breath ragged and harsh.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but the thought clawed its way through
anyway.
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
I frowned, shaking my head stubbornly. That wasn’t what this was. It couldn’t be.
I swallowed hard, staring at the tiled floor like it might give me an answer.
