Page 1 of His To Unravel
ONE
nathaniel
The lecture hallcomes to life with the buzz of returning students—old friendships rekindled, tentative nods exchanged, strangers brought together once more.
I stand near the back, watching as they filter in, choosing their seats with mindless predictability. My focus, however, is fixed on one entrance, waiting, measuring each moment until I see her.
She steps through the door, her movements unhurried and unnoticed by those who don’t know how to look.
But I do.
I have tuned my attention to her—the way she moves like a whisper through the room. She’s light on her feet, almost ethereal. Her presence is delicate yet strangely profound, as if she carries an entire world within her that no one else has discovered.
She doesn’t defer to the unspoken rules that govern Halford’s halls, where names and backgrounds outweigh intellect, where connections are currency. She’s indifferent to all of it—a rare truth in their perfectly orchestrated masquerade. And that’s exactly what drew me to Olivia Bennett from the beginning.
Months.
I’ve watched her for months now, from a distance, learning therhythm of her days, the rituals she assumes go unnoticed. I know where she spends her mornings, the hidden corners of campus she claims as her own, far from the posturing and those who thrive on being seen.
Olivia is soft, unassuming.
There’s an innocence about her—in the way she brushes her auburn hair behind her ear, the loose waves tumbling over her shoulder in a cascade of copper and gold under the lights. Her green eyes, deep and clear, scan the room, but they never linger. She doesn’t register the glances cast her way, untouched by the weight of attention. Even mine.
She takes a seat closer to the front, oblivious to me watching her from the back.
She’s not classically beautiful, not the striking sort that turns heads in an instant. No, Olivia draws you in like a slow-burning ember, igniting something deeper with her understated elegance, her quiet confidence. She is a persistent presence in the corners of your mind, lingering until you can’t shake her free.
It’s maddening, this pull I feel.
She pulls her laptop from her bag with the same calm precision I’ve come to expect from her. She’s so beautifully unburdened. There’s no rush in her movements, no need to impress or perform. But what fascinates me more is how she seems so sure of herself, how she moves through the world as if untouched by others’ expectations.
Yet I know everyone can be touched. Everyone has a point where they can be bent, broken, shaped.
Our paths have yet to cross directly, but the anticipation of it hangs in the air like an oncoming storm.
Her detachment blinds her to the shadow that’s been trailing her every step. Her schedule, her routines, her solitude—they’ve all become threads in the web I’ve been spinning since before this semester began.
Today marks the start, the first real step. I’ve orchestrated every detail of this day to lay the foundation of something far more intricate. Something inevitable.
Olivia Bennett may not know it yet, but she’s already secured her place in my world.
Professor Jones strides to the front of the lecture hall, his voice cutting through the hum of quiet chatter, pulling the attention of the room to the slides projected on the screen.
He’s just as predictable, and his opening remarks are as uninspired as the students who nod along, half-listening. But today, I find myself almost grateful for the monotony—his class is nothing but a stage for what’s about to unfold, another piece of the design I’ve so meticulously set in place.
Jones announces the semester’s project—a paired assignment, a new market entry proposal.
To the others, it’s a challenge, an opportunity for distinction. For me, it’s a calculated means to draw her into my world.
The instructor drones on, detailing the parameters, the importance of a sound entry strategy, risk assessments, and projections. Olivia’s expression is focused, jotting down every detail.
“Pairings will be posted at the front,” Jones announces, his tone dismissive, and the room shifts, chairs scraping against the floor as students rise to crowd the list.
I remain seated, content to watch Olivia as she stands, glancing toward the board with no visible reaction a casual observer would notice. Yet even from here, I can see the faint tension around her eyes, a tell she likely doesn’t know she has—a small sign that she’s sizing up the task, readying herself.
She steps forward, her gaze brushing over the names, until her eyes finally land on hers—right next to mine.
A flicker of surprise crosses her face, so brief it’s almost imperceptible, but it’s there. That surprise would become shock if sheknew how much of her life is about to be in tandem with mine in the coming weeks.
