A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 44: Chasing Ghosts

James still had his fingers wrapped around her wrist, her pulse thrumming beneath his grip, but he could feel nothing in her posture—no resistance, no anger, just... nothing.

Then, without missing a beat, she smoothed her expression back into something blank, detached, and said, "I have to go to class."

James shook his head. "No, you don't."

Her gaze flickered, something close to irritation appearing for the first time. "Yes, I do."

"I checked, Ana," he shot back. "You don't have a class next."

A pause.

Then she sighed, shifting as if she were going to reach for the door handle. "Then I have somewhere else to be."

He stepped in front of her before she could move, blocking her path. "No," he snapped. "No more running."

She stilled, staring at him.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair, frustration mounting. "Talk to me, Ana."

She didn't respond. Didn't so much as react.

"Why are you avoiding us? Why did you stop coming?" he demanded.

"Didn't feel like it."

James let out a quiet, humourless laugh. "Didn't feel like it?" His voice was tight, sharp with disbelief. "You can't—fuck, you can't just pretend that this is normal, that you're okay."

Anastasia blinked, as if bored. "I don't know what you want me to say."

He clenched his jaw. "I want you to say something. Anything." His voice softened slightly, but it was still laced with frustration. "Or if you don't want to talk then fine! Just let me be there for you. I just- I just want you to stop—stop shutting me out."

Her eyes darkened. "I didn't realise I owed you anything, Potter."

He inhaled sharply. "I thought we were friends."

A muscle in her jaw twitched.

For a split second, James thought she might fight back, might argue with him, throw something sharp and scathing his way, push him away like she always did.

But she didn't.

She just... stared at him.

Blank. Unreadable.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"I'm tired, James," she said quietly.

It wasn't an excuse. It wasn't a dismissal. It was just... a fact.

"I'm tired of pretending to be someone else when I'm with you," she continued, her voice steady but devoid of emotion. "You tire me."

Something inside James twisted, something deep and wrong, something that made his stomach churn.

"So let's stop pretending we're friends," she finished. "And go back to what we both know is better for ourselves."

James let out a breath—half a scoff, half a bitter laugh.

"Better for you?" His voice was sharp now, edged with disbelief. "Have you looked in the mirror recently? Do you even hear yourself talk? "

She said nothing.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Are you better off now?" he pressed, voice rising slightly. "Do you feel better now, Ana?"