Brooklyn's breath hitched as the crowd erupted into whispers and cheers. Phones shot up into the air, flashes of cameras turning the quad into a storm of light.
Her name. On a banner. In spotlights. For everyone to see.
"Brooklyn, You're My Everything."
Her stomach churned, heat rushing to her cheeks. This wasn't sweet—it was suffocating. It wasn't love—it was a cage.
Beside her, Bryant swore under his breath. His hand hovered close to hers, as if fighting the urge to pull her behind him, shield her from all the stares.
"Stay here," he muttered, his voice tight.
But Brooklyn grabbed his sleeve, panic rising in her chest. "No, Bryant—don't—"
Too late. He was already moving forward.
The crowd parted as Bryant strode across the quad, his presence magnetic and furious. Mani, standing at the center with the microphone, looked smug, his eyes glittering with victory.
"Brooklyn!" Mani's voice boomed through the speakers, echoing off the buildings. "I wanted everyone to know how much you mean to me. No games, no secrets. Just truth."
Gasps and squeals rippled through the crowd. Some students clapped, others looked confused, but all eyes were on Mani—and then on Brooklyn, pale and frozen in place.
Bryant stopped a few feet away from Mani, his voice cutting sharp through the noise. "Truth? You call this truth?"
Mani's smile faltered for only a second before snapping back into place. "It's honesty, Bryant. Something you wouldn't understand. I'm not hiding my feelings—I'm proving them."
"Proving them?" Bryant's tone was deadly calm, the calm that came before a storm. "By humiliating her? By putting her on display like she's a prize to be won? That's not love, Mani. That's obsession."
The crowd murmured, tension snapping tight like a wire.
Brooklyn's chest heaved. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. But her feet were rooted to the ground, the weight of every stare pressing down on her.
Mani's jaw tightened. "Don't twist this. Brooklyn knows how I feel. She knows I'd do anything for her. And unlike you, I'm not afraid to show it."
Bryant took a step closer, his voice dropping. "You don't get it, do you? Love isn't about what you want, Mani. It's about what she needs. And right now, all you're giving her is fear."
The words cut through the air like a blade.
The crowd went silent.
Brooklyn's vision blurred, tears stinging her eyes. She couldn't take it anymore. With trembling legs, she pushed through the circle of onlookers and stepped between them.
"Stop!" Her voice cracked but carried, silencing even the whispers.
Both boys froze, their eyes locking on her.
"Do you hear yourselves?" Brooklyn's voice shook, but she forced the words out. "This isn't about me anymore—it's about your pride. You're turning me into a trophy, something to fight over, and I won't let you."
Her chest rose and fell as she turned first to Mani. "I told you I needed space. You didn't listen. This—" she gestured wildly at the banner, the lights, the crowd—"this is not love. It's pressure. And I can't breathe."
Mani's face fell, his hands trembling around the microphone. "Brooklyn, no… I did this for you—"
"No," she cut him off, her voice firm now. "You did this for you. To prove something. To claim something. But I'm not something to claim."
The crowd murmured again, this time louder, some nodding, others whispering in shock.
Brooklyn turned then to Bryant, her throat tightening. His eyes were soft, steady, but filled with an anger he was holding back for her sake.
"And you—thank you for protecting me, for standing up for me. But I don't want this to turn into a war. Not over me. I'm not a prize."
Her voice cracked on the last word, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Brooklyn wiped her face quickly, then pushed past both boys, her heart pounding. The crowd parted as she fled the quad, leaving Mani pale and trembling, and Bryant standing frozen in the wake of her words.