The stares inside the lecture room were relentless.
It wasn't just curiosity. It wasn't even admiration. It was that thick, suffocating kind of attention that clings to your skin and refuses to let go. Every time I shifted in my seat, I could feel eyes following me. Whispers coiled around the air like smoke. Even when no one was speaking, the silence itself felt loud.
So I left.
I slipped out without a word and headed toward the back of the gymnasium. The noise of the campus faded the farther I walked, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the faint creak of branches swaying in the breeze. I found a tree near the edge of the grounds and let myself drop onto the grass beneath it.
The shade was cool. The earth smelled faintly of soil and sunlight. It was quiet enough that I could finally breathe without feeling like I was being evaluated for existing.
