The next morning, Racheal woke with a quiet determination. Last night had shifted something inside her. For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel the shadow of doubt pressing down. She dressed quickly, tying her hair back neatly, and left the hostel with a light step.
Classes were routine at first, nothing out of the ordinary. But by mid-morning, a ripple of whispers caught her attention as she passed by a group of students near the library.
"Did you hear?" one girl whispered, glancing around nervously.
"About what?" another asked, voice low.
"Racheal and Declan… together? I saw them leaving Mia's house yesterday. People are talking."
Racheal's chest tightened. She slowed her steps, pretending not to hear, but every word felt like a tiny weight pressing against her shoulders.
Her eyes inadvertently found Declan, leaning casually against the entrance of the lecture hall. His gaze met hers, steady and unwavering. He didn't flinch, didn't smirk—he simply watched, and that alone gave her a fraction of courage.
But courage, she realized, didn't stop whispers from spreading.
Margaret appeared moments later, flanked by a couple of her usual followers. Her lips curled into a sly smile as she approached Racheal.
"Racheal," Margaret said sweetly, though her eyes were sharp, calculating. "I just wanted to congratulate you… on your little outing yesterday. I hear people are noticing you now."
Racheal forced a polite smile. "Thanks."
Margaret's gaze lingered, almost predatory. "I suppose Declan finally saw what the rest of us have known all along… that you're quite… special."
Something in Racheal tensed, a flicker of irritation and anxiety rising. She opened her mouth to respond, but Margaret's smirk stopped her.
"I'd be careful if I were you," Margaret added quietly, almost conspiratorially, before turning and sauntering away, leaving a trail of subtle venom in her wake.
Racheal exhaled slowly, leaning against the wall for support. Declan's friends, Gideon and Noah, were nearby, clearly overhearing the exchange. Gideon shook his head. "Ignore her. People love drama more than reality."
Noah smirked. "Yeah, but your girl isn't even fazed. She's got him wrapped around her finger already."
Racheal shot them a glance, cheeks warming, but her mind was elsewhere—on Declan. She found him standing a few steps away, watching her carefully. His presence was calming, yet fierce all at once.
"Everything okay?" he asked quietly, stepping closer, his tone gentle.
Racheal swallowed hard. "I… yes. It's nothing."
He studied her for a moment, eyes softening. "Nothing that matters, then?"
She shook her head, letting a small smile slip. "Nothing that matters as long as you're here."
Declan's smile was faint, almost private, but it reached his eyes. "Good," he murmured. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere."
For the first time, Racheal felt a sense of stability, even as the shadows of gossip swirled around her. Declan wasn't just there—he was a constant. And she realized that no rumor, no whisper, could change that.
But Margaret's words lingered like a warning, a subtle reminder that not everyone would be easy to navigate. And Racheal, for all her newfound courage, knew that the path ahead would still require strength, patience, and trust.
Yet with Declan by her side, she felt, perhaps for the first time, that she could face it all.