Between Shadows and Sunlight

Chapter 1

As September rolled in, it was far from a perfect day for Sophia. The start of the school year, especially the transition to a new grade, came with a mix of uncertainty about unfamiliar surroundings and people. Yet for Sophia Margaret St. Claire, it didn’t stir much emotion. The University of Eldridge was merely a place she’d attend, not one that sparked any ownership or excitement in her life. After all, she didn’t have the agency to study abroad or take matters into her own hands; attending this university was simply part of being under the watchful eye of her father, Sir Thomas St. Claire.

Typically, classes wouldn’t begin until later in the month, allowing Margaret a few more days to sleep in. However, on this particular morning, she managed to drag herself out of bed, still in a daze, and shuffled toward the bathroom. "Great, another day waking up to Uncle Gerald’s demands," she muttered, hardly awake.

The bathroom door was closed, so Margaret knocked gently. "Elena, you’re not trying to sneak a smoke in there again, are you?" she called, eyes still half-closed.

"What?" came a low voice from inside.

Margaret’s mind momentarily blanked. Where was her cousin, Elena? Wasn’t she supposed to be in the bathroom? “Who’s in there?” she thought, confused. Just then, the sound of flush echoed, and the door swung open, revealing a tall boy standing there.

With her morning fog quickly evaporating, panic set in. Margaret crossed her arms tightly, backing up a step as she shouted, “Elena, there's a guy in the bathroom!”

Sir Thomas St. Claire and Lady Margaret St. Claire rushed to the scene, with Sir Thomas scolding, “What in the world, young lady, you still half asleep?"

Lady Margaret shot him a withering glance. Sensing Margaret's bewilderment, she moved swiftly, nudging her daughter back into her room. "Hurry, change and clean up. Breakfast will be served soon.”

Margaret stumbled back into her room. Meanwhile, Sir Thomas smirked and said to the young man, “Sorry about that, she's my daughter.”

“No problem at all,” came the deep voice, reverberating in a way that made Margaret's stomach drop. It hit her hard as she realized this wasn’t just any boy; he was a guest of Lord Woods, and here she was with her hair a mess and wearing her goofy pajamas. “Talk about a great first impression,” she thought with a grimace.

She was suddenly struck by her own reflection in the mirror—her beloved blue pajama set and wild hair did not exude the powerful aura she imagined.

At the breakfast table, Margaret glared enviously at Elena, who was busy filling the young man’s plate with food. She glanced down at her own empty bowl, reminding herself of the distance between them.

From their conversation about academic subjects, Margaret picked up that this guy had some sort of professional connection with Lord Woods. Their discussions seemed far too highbrow for her level of understanding. The way Sir Thomas looked at him was intimidating, almost like he was the pride of the family—the son he always talked about. For Margaret, the less-discussed daughter, it stung.

After breakfast, she dutifully helped clear away the dishes, not wanting to be labeled as the lazy one lounging around the house.

“No, no, let my daughter handle this,” Lord St. Claire said, waving off the young man’s offer to help.

Considering he hadn’t insisted, the young man took a seat beside Sir Thomas on the settee, and they resumed their conversation.

Once the dishes were done, she sank into a chair beside her mother. "My daughter is just starting this year at The Academy," Sir Thomas informed the young man. "She insists on going by herself, so you might need to help her get settled there."

The young man chuckled lightly. “Not a problem at all. Let’s get in touch, and I can pick her up on the first day.”

“Oh no, I know my way around The Academy just fine,” Margaret interjected, shaking her head. After getting accepted to the University of Eldridge, she had dragged Lady Margaret around the campus a few times. Yet to this day, she still managed to get lost more than she liked to admit.

“Really now?” Sir Thomas scoffed. “Who’s the one who can’t seem to find her way home every single day?”

Margaret shot a reproachful glance at her dad. Perhaps it would be better if she were just adopted instead.

Chapter 2

Margaret St. Claire had her reasons for not liking to go out, one being that each time she did, it felt like it pushed her father Oliver further away.

Oliver flashed a smile. "Well, I could pick her up next time!"

Lord St. Claire immediately replied with a cheerful expression, "My daughter gets lost easily."

Oliver nodded, understanding.

Margaret felt a pang of embarrassment. Did they really have to undermine her in front of outsiders? Didn’t they care about her pride?

Once Oliver left, Margaret crossed her arms, clearly displeased. "I know my way around the Academy just fine, thank you very much! I could probably navigate it better than anyone else."

"Fine, if you don't want Little Elena to pick you up, then I’ll have you walk with me." Lord St. Claire interjected confidently.

"No way!" Margaret huffed, her lips stuck out in defiance. She didn’t want anyone knowing that her father, Thomas St. Claire, was a professor at the University of Eldridge, especially not when it was the same place she struggled to belong. All her hard work wouldn’t mean much if people thought she was riding on her father’s coattails.

“Are you saying walking with me is embarrassing?” Lord St. Claire shot back, a slight edge in his voice.

“What’s with the volume?!” Lady Margaret St. Claire Sr. scolded gently, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m heading to my room," Margaret muttered as she made her way upstairs, collapsing onto her bed.

To her, it wasn’t Oliver making her feel embarrassed; it was her father. Every time, Thomas St. Claire proudly bragged about his son’s achievements to anyone who would listen, while hardly acknowledging Margaret’s existence. It felt as though he only had one child.

She couldn’t really blame him, considering the less-than-stellar grades she had managed to rack up.

Margaret had practically stopped going to the Academy since moving here. She remembered little Clara clearly, but nothing before they moved. All she knew was that after arriving in town, she spent most of her time at home. Only at the start of each semester did Lord St. Claire take her in for registration, and even then, she barely showed up for finals, opting out of most minor exams. For the major ones, she picked up on her father's dread as soon as she saw him; she knew all too well that her results wouldn’t be good.

The day of the big test came, and when the results were revealed, it wasn't surprising to her that she hadn’t performed as well as Frederick. She just knew she had probably scored a hundred points less than him. Lord St. Claire’s disappointment was palpable, and she learned quickly that bringing up her scores was not on the agenda.

She had gotten used to it.

School was starting up again soon, and she found the house empty.

Margaret assumed everyone must have gone to work. She packed her bag and sat at the dining table, munching on bread while scrolling through her phone.

“Ding dong.” The doorbell rang.

“Who is it?” Margaret exclaimed, startled, choking slightly on her bread. She gulped some juice and quickly raced to the door.

Standing outside was Oliver, and the sight of him chuckling at her flustered state brought a smirk to his face.

Margaret swallowed the last of her food and patted her chest, relieved to feel normal again. Yet, as she caught Oliver’s amused gaze, a wave of embarrassment washed over her. Why did she always have to run into him at her most awkward moments? Maybe he was just bad luck.

“Come in!” she said, attempting to sound more casual than she felt.

He stepped inside, glancing around. “Is Lord St. Claire home?”

Margaret shook her head. “They’re busy.”

“Have you got your things ready?” he asked gently.

“Ready? Are we leaving right now?” Confusion washed over her.

“What else would you be waiting for?” He returned her confusion with a simple, innocent look.

Margaret turned abruptly and dashed back to her room, scolding herself for being so clueless. Whether she was leaving or not should’ve been her own decision, not his.

Finally, she shouldered her bag, dragging the suitcase her mother had already packed for her. “Let’s go!” she declared, trying to muster some enthusiasm.

Chapter 3

“You didn’t finish your breakfast.” The young man pointed at the half-eaten piece of bread on the table.

Margaret St. Claire swiftly gathered her belongings and moved toward the kitchen, but as she was about to leave, Little Doe rushed out. “Forget it, I didn’t realize I needed to catch a cab!”

“Does it matter?” the young man asked, a bit confused.

“I get car sick; I can’t eat before a ride, or I’ll feel awful,” Margaret calmly replied, pulling her suitcase out the door. “Could you please lock the door? Thanks.”

In the cramped elevator, an uneasy tension hung between the two strangers. Margaret stole a glance at the boy beside her and cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”

“Elena Woods,” he replied coolly.

“Ding!” The elevator doors slid open.

Elena took the suitcase from Margaret’s hands and stepped out confidently.

“Sheesh, not bad for a gentleman,” she muttered to herself, then hurried after him.

“Is it Elena Woods, as in ‘I’ll see you when I wake from this dream’?” Margaret asked curiously, quoting her favorite romantic line from a novel she couldn’t quite remember.

Elena raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not quite. I’m Elena Woods. My last name is Woods.”

Margaret paused for a moment, then nodded approvingly, “That sounds nice.”

As they stepped into the bright sunlight, Elena squinted and suggested, “It’s a bit too bright, you should grab an umbrella!”

Margaret blinked, a bit taken aback. She chuckled awkwardly, “I don’t think I need it.” It seemed like every girl nowadays carried an umbrella when they headed out, but she didn’t see herself fitting that mold.

“Then we’ll just walk like this!” Elena said, dismissing her concerns.

“Sure.” Margaret obediently followed him, falling silent as the sun beat down on her, making her head spin slightly. She raised her arms to shield her eyes and gradually relaxed her furrowed brow.

Elena was tall, and his long strides left poor Little Doe struggling to keep up. All she could do was jog along behind him.

Suddenly, Elena halted. Margaret, who had been ducking to avoid the sun’s rays, bumped right into him. She knew her forehead was tough—after all, she had bumped into walls more than once—but she immediately worried he might be hurt. “Are you okay?”

He felt her crash into his back, a gentle thud that surprised him. She must’ve really taken a hit to her forehead, judging by the redness. “Aren’t you hurt?” he asked.

“Not a scratch,” she shrugged, rubbing her forehead. “I've been practicing my iron head technique since I was little. You’re okay, right? You look... fragile.”

The last part faltered on her lips, an unspoken thought hanging between them. It felt as awkwardly inappropriate as asking someone their weight.

But could she really blame herself? This guy had limbs thinner than hers, and while his skin wasn’t as pale, it was still fairer than an average guy’s. Back in ancient times, he’d fit right in as a delicate scholar, but nowadays, he might just be called a pretty boy.

“Hey!” Margaret exclaimed, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. “Why did you bump into me?”

“Hang on, I’ll hail a cab,” Elena replied. Was this girl’s head made of bricks or something?

And thus, they stepped back into the vibrant world outside.

Chapter 4

Margaret St. Claire pouted in frustration. Why did boys always have to act tough? Her resilience came mainly from one person—her older brother, William St. Claire, and her parents, Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret St. Claire. Growing up in Little Town, it was tough to blame her if she sometimes felt a little dim-witted. Anyone would be worn down by constant scuffles.

“Let’s go!”

Margaret snapped back to reality as Elena Woods, her friend, had successfully hailed a cab.

Once they settled into the backseat, an unpleasant odor wafted through the air, making Margaret's stomach churn.

Elena stored their bags in the trunk and slid in beside her. “Driver, let’s get going!” she said. Glancing at Margaret's pale face, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Margaret rested her head on her hand and waved it off, muttering it was nothing. She closed her eyes, repeating silently, “Hurry up, Parker. Let's get there fast!”

But the taxi crept along, as if it were a Sunday stroll.

Margaret's discomfort intensified; she fought against the rising bile, feeling like her breakfast might make an unfortunate reappearance.

Elena noticed Margaret’s once-flushed cheeks had turned ghostly white. “Just hang on a bit longer. We'll be there soon,” she said, concern etched on her face.

Margaret nodded slightly, eyes still shut, practicing self-hypnosis. Come on, just sleep, sleep!

After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived at the university. Margaret wasted no time and practically leaped from the cab. Fresh air flooded her lungs, easing the pressure in her stomach.

“Feeling any better?” Elena asked, retrieving their luggage and coming to stand beside her.

“Yeah, I think I’ll survive. Let’s move!” Margaret replied with a small smile, trying to push aside her nausea.

The campus was buzzing with activity; freshmen wandered around, lost and wide-eyed, while upperclassmen greeted the newcomers. The energy of the place invigorated her slightly.

“Stay close to me, alright? We can’t afford to lose each other in this crowd,” Elena said, scanning the sea of faces.

Margaret hesitated, wanting to quip back, but decided against it, giving an obedient nod instead.

After checking in, a girl with a ponytail led them to the girls’ dormitory. Once they received the key, she left them to find their room.

Confused, Margaret turned to Elena, who was hauling a suitcase upstairs. “What about bedding and stuff? Do we buy that here?”

“Huh? You live right around the corner. I thought you’d bring it all from home.” Elena opened the door to their dorm room, revealing a busy space with several girls inside.

Margaret looked around, feeling slightly lost. But her gaze landed on a familiar blue patterned bedspread near the balcony, and she exclaimed, “That blanket looks just like the one from my room at home!”

Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a call from her mother, Lady Margaret St. Claire Sr. “Hey, have you made it to the academy yet?”

“Just arrived at the dorm,” Margaret replied.

“Did you see the blanket I put on your bed? The one with the cartoon character?”

“Oh, I see it now!” Margaret smiled, recognizing the blanket that had been her childhood favorite.

“Good. Once you settle in, come down for dinner. Don’t forget to grab Little Doe and bring her too. Got it?”

“Sure, Mom.” She tried to stifle a sigh as the call ended abruptly.

After placing her luggage inside, Margaret surveyed the room filled with strangers, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her. Maybe she should’ve just stayed at the family estate.

“Alright, I’ve dropped you off. I have to head back now,” Elena said as she turned to leave.

“Wait, you should join us for lunch at my place later! Please?” Margaret pleaded, feeling drained both mentally and physically, even though she hadn’t done much all day.

“No thanks, I have other plans,” Elena politely declined.

Margaret nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and disappointment. “Okay then, thanks for everything today.”

Chapter 5

"You're welcome, I’ll be on my way." Elena Woods said as she took a few steps before turning back. "You..."

"I know how to get back home. You can go!" Margaret St. Claire replied, a bit flustered. She wasn't that clueless; she had memorized the route on the way here.

"Alright then, bye-bye." Elena waved and walked off.

Once Margaret had gathered her things, she glanced back at the bustling atmosphere of The Lodge before stepping outside. Sure enough, Elena was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

"Why are you here?" Margaret asked, slightly surprised.

"How's The Lodge? Not quite like home at the Tavern, huh?" Lord St. Claire avoided her question.

"It’s fine." Margaret leaned her head against the window, staring out.

"Hmph," Lord St. Claire muttered. "You're just chasing a bit of excitement. Once the novelty wears off, you'll be back to the familiar."

Margaret remained silent. Perhaps it really was about the thrill of the new. Like a little canary yearning to escape its cage, she couldn't help but dream of the vast skies and dense woods beyond her limited surroundings. It was a mix of curiosity about the unknown dangers, like Sophia, that also sidelined her from more serious thoughts.

After dinner, Margaret spent an idle afternoon at home. When evening came, Lord St. Claire drove her to The Academy but stopped right at the entrance.

"Lord Woods! Please don't come downstairs to look for me without reason. If you need me, just call or send a message to Devereux. I can find my way back home," Margaret said assertively.

Lord St. Claire started to respond, but she cut him off. "I’m eighteen now! You’ve raised me well, but if I can’t learn to stand on my own feet before I leave for work, how will I manage?" She thought about Frederick and how he could handle things alone; she could too.

With that, she got out of the car. Deep down, she felt reluctant to express her frustration towards Lord St. Claire and the others. They were her family—Thomas St. Claire and Lady Margaret St. Claire Sr.; they had cared for her, yet she couldn't help but unleash her anger on them. It felt wrong.

But every time she got upset, her better judgment seemed to vanish, only to be regretted later when she couldn't bring herself to say sorry. Thus, she learned to accept everything, realizing that her parents never meant her any harm. She had no insatiable desires.

Lord St. Claire watched his daughter's retreating figure with a heavy sigh. Gone were the days when that tiny infant lay in his arms, and the little girl who once cried for cuddles no longer sought his comfort.

Back at The Lodge, Margaret sat at her desk in a daze, unsure of what to do with herself.

"Hey."

The sudden voice of a girl startled her.

"Did I scare you? I'm so sorry!" The girl apologized immediately, looking genuinely contrite.

"It's alright, really." Margaret waved her hand dismissively, taking in the girl’s blunt bangs and high ponytail, the smile revealing two adorable dimples.

"Hi, I'm Jessica Rivers," she introduced brightly. "I’m from AH."

"Nice to meet you! I'm Margaret St. Claire, a local," Margaret replied with a smile.

"Wow, you're a local! That's awesome. Being so close to home means you can pop back anytime!" Jessica's eyes sparkled.

Margaret chuckled; Jessica Rivers was nothing like Wendy Rivers.

As the evening progressed, everyone at The Lodge gathered for dinner. One girl, her face covered in various colored facial masks, turned around. "Alright everyone, let's hear your names!"

Laughter filled the room. A girl with short hair piped up, "I'm Henry Waverly, the Henry Waverly from Catherine!"

"Whoa! Northeast! Is it amazing to eat ice cream in winter?" Jessica exclaimed eagerly.

Laughter erupted again. "Absolutely!" Henry laughed.

"I'm Liliana Grey, Liliana as in the flower and Grey as in my last name. I’m from Qingdao." A girl with a heart-shaped face chimed in.

"By the sea? That's lovely!" Jessica gushed, her excitement palpable.

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