Scattered on the Wind

Morgan went to the cafeteria alone. She barely tasted the food as she forced a few bites down and headed straight to the admin office to process her withdrawal.

When she gave her reason as “studying abroad,” the administrative staff showed brief regret over her previously excellent grades. Still, with the photo scandal circulating across campus and the plagiarism accusation that had just erupted, their response remained purely procedural. There was no real attempt to persuade her to stay.

“Withdrawal approval will take a few days to process,” the administrative staff said. “During that time, you’re expected to attend classes as usual.”

“Thank you,” Morgan replied softly, her expression blank.

She moved through the rest of the day like a walking corpse. When the final bell rang, she hugged her books to her chest and followed the crowd out. As she passed the small campus garden, she noticed a group of students running in one direction, their voices buzzing with excitement.

“Quick, quick! There’s a fight up ahead!”

“Oh my God, it’s Dean! I’ve never seen the campus heartthrob so angry!”

“He’s fighting for Hazel! A classic case of rage for love!”

Morgan stopped in her tracks. Her heart felt like it had been pricked by a fine needle, not enough to bleed but enough to hurt. Without fully understanding why, she followed them ahead. Sure enough, a small crowd had formed. At the center, Dean was locked in a vicious fight with another male student.

Dean was usually cold, restrained, and always composed. Now, as if someone had crossed his boundaries, his movements were brutal and unrelenting, every punch landing hard. That stunning, untouchable face was twisted with a fury few had ever seen.

Fragments of conversation drifted into her ears.

“I heard that guy confessed to Hazel, got rejected, and then tried to get handsy…”

“Dean is normally so calm. Who knew he’d actually throw punches?”

“But isn’t Morgan his girlfriend? Why is he fighting so hard for Hazel?”

“Tsk, you don’t get it? With those photos of Morgan going around, how could Dean ignore them? He probably got sick of her ages ago…”

Morgan listened quietly. She thought her heart had turned numb, but those words still stirred something painful within her.

Just then, Hazel squeezed through the crowd, looking like a startled fawn. Crying, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Dean from behind.

“Dean, stop fighting! I’m scared… Please, stop…”

Dean froze. He released the battered student and turned around. The violent air around him vanished almost instantly, replaced by a gentleness so awkward and careful that Morgan had never seen it before.

He wiped Hazel’s tears with deliberate tenderness, his voice low and soft. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve stopped. Did I scare you?”

Like poison, that level of tenderness and devotion Dean showed shattered the very last illusion Morgan had been clinging to. He had never looked at her like that or spoken to her in that tone. Even during the most intimate moments between them, he had been so repulsed that he let his younger brother take his place.

How blind had she been to believe he ever liked her?

At that moment, Dean’s gaze swept over the crowd and met Morgan’s. He froze again, clearly not expecting to see her there. A flicker of complicated emotion surfaced in his eyes so fast that even he did not seem aware of it.

His lips parted. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but Morgan looked away first. As if she had merely seen an irrelevant stranger, she turned around and left, her face expressionless.

Dean stared at her, his brows knitting unconsciously.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Hazel asked softly, leaning against him.

“Nothing,” he replied, withdrawing his gaze. His tone returned to its usual gentleness, yet the unease in his chest refused to fade.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Jake, briefly explaining the argument with Morgan and the fight earlier, telling him to comfort her later that evening.

Jake replied quickly. [Why bother comforting her? Just break up with her.]

Dean stared at the message, his fingers pausing mid-air.

Right. Why should he bother? However, he could not quite explain it to himself. After a moment of silence, he typed a justification that sounded reasonable enough:

“Hazel hasn’t been offered a place in grad school yet. The act has to be convincing. Morgan’s emotionally unstable. If she makes a scene and it affects Hazel, it’ll be troublesome.”

Jake responded immediately. [Got it. I’ll go back tonight and handle it.]

That night, Morgan returned to the apartment, exhausted both mentally and physically. She lay down early, closing her eyes almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Not long after, she heard movement at the door. Jake was back.

“Morg, why are you asleep so early today?” He leaned close, his voice carrying its usual careless intimacy.

Morgan faced away from him, her voice flat. “Nothing. I’m tired.”

He caught the coldness in her tone and wrapped his arms around her from behind, slipping easily into his familiar role. He repeated the same polished explanations about the assignment and the fight, using the same hypocritical logic as always.

She listened numbly as she thought about how flawless the brothers' act was, with one hurting her and the other comforting her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to say another word.

Seeing her remain silent, Jake leaned in out of habit, brushing kisses along her neck, his hands beginning to wander.