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Chapter Five: Rumors and Shadows
The first whispers were subtle.
Maya didn't notice them at first—the sidelong glances, the way people would pause mid-laugh when she walked by. It wasn't until someone said her name in the cafeteria, low and deliberate, that she realized it wasn't just her imagination.
"She's… with Rhea, right?"
A pause, a snicker. "Yeah. Saw them on the roof yesterday. Pretty cozy."
Maya froze, spoon halfway to her mouth. She looked around, cheeks burning, hoping no one was staring. They were. Everyone was staring.
She tried to shrink into herself, wished desperately that the walls of the cafeteria could swallow her whole.
And then Rhea appeared, sliding into the seat across from her with that grin that could start wildfires. "Morning," she said, ignoring the murmurs. "You're looking pale."
"I'm fine," Maya mumbled, though her stomach churned.
"Uh-huh." Rhea's eyes were sharp, scanning the room like she was daring anyone to say anything. "Don't worry about them. People love rumors more than reality."
Maya wanted to believe that. Wanted it so badly she could almost taste it. But the whispers followed her to class, and every time she glanced at Rhea, the familiar warmth in her chest tangled with panic.
Later, in the quiet of the library, she found Rhea leaning against the table, waiting. "You're quiet today."
"Trying not to be noticed," Maya admitted.
Rhea laughed softly, a sound that slid over her skin like silk. "Good luck with that. You and I? Noticeable. Deal with it."
Maya's heart thumped. "Why do you care?"
Rhea tilted her head, eyes mischievous and serious at once. "Because you're worth noticing. Even if it pisses everyone else off."
And just like that, the tension twisted into something else—something hotter, sharper, more dangerous than rumors.
Ezra appeared then, as if summoned by some invisible string. He leaned against the edge of the library doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. His gaze found Maya immediately, slow and calculating, like he could measure her heartbeat from across the room.
"You're everywhere," she said, trying to sound casual.
"Funny," he replied, voice low. "I could say the same about you."
Rhea's hand brushed Maya's under the table—a small, grounding touch. Maya's stomach flopped, confusion and excitement twisting together.
"Don't get distracted," Rhea whispered.
Ezra's presence didn't leave, though he didn't sit. He lingered, just at the boundary of their space, an invisible threat wrapped in charm.
When he finally left, the room seemed quieter. But the whispers remained, echoing in Maya's mind like footsteps she couldn't outrun.
That night, on the rooftop, Rhea and Maya sat side by side. Silence stretched between them, comfortable and tense all at once.
"You're thinking about them," Rhea said, eyes on the skyline.
"I can't stop," Maya admitted.
"Good." Rhea's voice was soft now, almost tender. "You should think about me too. Not them."
Maya turned her head, caught in Rhea's gaze, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. For the first time, the rumors didn't matter. For the first time, the danger didn't matter.
All that mattered was Rhea.
And something inside Maya whispered that this—this spark, this mess, this rooftop—was only the beginning.