Rumors did not arrive loudly.
They drifted.
Like dust stirred by footsteps she did not hear.
Elara noticed the pause first.
A half-second too long when she entered the corridor. Conversations faltered, then resumed—lower. Thinner. Sharper at the edges.
She kept walking.
Back straight. Chin level.
Ignore it.
That had always worked before.
But today, the silence behind her had texture.
"Tsk," someone whispered.
Another voice—feminine, amused. "Hmm. So it's true?"
Elara's fingers tightened around her notebook.
Don't look.
She turned the corner—and nearly collided with a group of girls by the lockers. They moved aside slowly, eyes scanning her from shoes to hair, as if cataloguing proof.
One of them smiled. Sweet. Empty.
"Morning," the girl said. "You look… relaxed."
Elara blinked. "Sorry?"
The girl laughed lightly. "Nothing. Just—you know. Some people have it easier."
Elara frowned. "Easier how?"
A second girl leaned in, stage-whispering poorly. "Sponsored."
