Juniper POV
The projector clicked off with a soft hum, and the room broke into polite clapping. I stood at the front beside Tristan, my fingers gripping the edge of the podium so tightly the wood bit into my skin. The last slide still glowed on the screen behind us—our final recommendation, neatly formatted, the one I’d stayed up until 3 a.m. perfecting. Professor Hale gave us a nod and said something about “strong analysis.” I smiled the way you’re supposed to smile in these moments. Tristan did too. But his smile never reached his eyes.
He didn’t look at me once during the entire presentation.
When the class started packing up, he closed his laptop, slipped it into his bag, and walked out without a word. Not even a glance in my direction. I stood there for a few extra seconds, pretend
