THE NEW GIRL

St. Devonte College was loud that morning — except around one person.

Lorenzo Moretti.

Twenty years old.

Six-foot-seven.

Built like a weapon forged by gods.

One arm sleeved in black ink — a serpent winding through roses and Latin lines only he understood.

Purple-reddish eyes that felt like being stared at by fate itself.

He walked through the college gates in complete silence, ignoring the way people moved aside as if he were a storm passing through. Students whispered:

“Don’t make eye contact.”

“He doesn’t talk.”

“His family… you know… the Moretti mafia royals.”

Lorenzo didn’t care.

He never did.

Then she walked in.

A tiny girl, barely 5'4”, drowning under a new timetable and her backpack.

Aria Sen — seventeen, transferred from another city, wide doe eyes, soft features, and a very bad habit:

She loved backless dresses — tiny ones, ending above her knees —

And she loved Indian kurtis that were backless too.

Sweet face. Dangerous wardrobe.

Completely unaware of the effect she caused.

She entered the corridor at the exact moment Lorenzo was walking out of his department.

She didn’t notice him — no one ever ignored him — and she bumped into his chest.

She bounced back like she hit a concrete wall.

Her timetable flew.

Her hair fell over her face.

And she whispered the softest, tiniest—

“Sorry…”

No one apologized to Lorenzo Moretti.

No one even dared make contact.

His friends froze.

The entire hallway went silent.

And for the first time in a long time…

Lorenzo looked down.

At her.

And those terrifying purple-red eyes softened by a fraction so small no one would believe it if they hadn’t seen it.

Aria, still gathering her papers, completely unaware of who she just bumped into, looked up at him with an embarrassed little smile.

And Lorenzo Moretti — the boy who didn’t speak unless necessary — said nothing.

But something in his chest moved.

Later, in Class

Aria entered her new classroom and immediately saw a group of boys already waving at her.

One of them — Mateo — grinned.

“Hey! You’re the new girl. Sit with us?”

She nodded shyly and walked over.

The boys were friendly, loud, teasing each other. Aria felt comfortable, almost too quickly.

But then the door opened.

Lorenzo walked in.

Every chair shifted.

Every voice lowered.

He was always alone.

Always cold.

Always unreadable.

But when his eyes landed on Aria…

Mateo nudged her.

“You met him earlier, right? That’s Lorenzo. Don’t get scared, he doesn’t bite.”

Lorenzo sat behind her.

Directly behind her.

Aria’s backless white kurti ( Indian dress )exposed the soft curve of her back, her tiny shoulder blades, her tied ribbon-string.

For the first time in college history…

Lorenzo Moretti wasn’t looking out the window.

He wasn’t ignoring class.

He was staring—

At the little ribbon on the back of her kurti.

As if he wanted to untie it

— or protect it.

No one could tell.

But his friends exchanged looks.

Because the ice king had reacted.

To a girl.

A tiny girl with soft smiles and dangerous innocence.

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