By the next morning, the whispers had become impossible to escape.
Everywhere she went, they followed her—through the halls, past the lockers, even into class. Heads turned. Conversations broke off when she walked by.
"That's her.""The girl Kai went off about.""Why her though?""There's no way he actually likes her. He's just… messed up or something."
She kept her face blank, eyes glued to her books, pretending she couldn't hear. Pretending she didn't care. But her stomach twisted with every word, every glance.
Her so-called friends didn't help. If anything, they'd grown sharper. They smiled when teachers were around, but the moment they were alone, the comments came.
"You must feel pretty special, huh?""Don't think this is going to last. Guys like him don't stay.""He'll figure out who you really are sooner or later."
The words stung, not because she believed them, but because part of her feared they might be right.
By lunch, the cafeteria was louder than ever, the weight of gossip pressing from every corner. She walked with her tray in hand, hesitating at her usual table. Her fake friends were waiting, their smiles plastic, their eyes glittering with judgment.
Before she could decide, a voice cut through the noise.
"Over here."
Kai.
He was sitting at a different table this time—alone, apart from the crowd. His gaze was fixed on her, steady, unwavering.
The room went silent. Dozens of eyes tracked her every move.
Her chest tightened. She knew what sitting with him would mean. More whispers. More stares. More fuel for their cruelty.
But Kai didn't look away. His expression was calm, but in his dark eyes there was something else—something almost pleading. Don't go back to them.
Her tray shook faintly in her hands. For a moment, the urge to retreat, to hide, to avoid it all, pulled her back toward the comfort of pretending.
Then she took a step.
And another.
The whispers swelled, but she didn't stop. She crossed the cafeteria, each step louder in her head than the last, until she slid into the seat across from him.
Kai's lips quirked just slightly—not a smile, but something close. "Good choice."
For the first time in a long time, she didn't fake her smile. It was small. Fragile. But it was real.