The school day began with a heavy silence around Lila, the kind of silence that holds back a storm. Every classroom she entered felt tense, as though her classmates were waiting for something to happen. She walked to her seat calmly, placing her notebook on her desk with quiet care. But as she did, she heard the low whispers, the half-hidden giggles, the murmurs sliding from mouth to ear like poisonous threads.
Two girls behind her leaned close to each other. "Did you see them walking together?" one of them hissed.
"Walking to school like they're a couple! How embarrassing," the other whispered back.
Lila pretended not to hear, opening her pen slowly. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, so the room was still noisy. She kept her eyes on the paper in front of her, determined not to give their words a home in her mind.
Across the room, Jamal sat facing forward. He was serious, pretending not to notice the smirks directed at him either. But his jaw was tight, and his fingers tapped the edge of his desk with quiet impatience. He didn't speak to her during class, not because he wanted to avoid her, but because he didn't want to feed the rumors. Lila understood this. She was grateful. It showed that he wasn't seeking attention or trying to play the hero. He genuinely cared. She focused on the chalkboard when the teacher arrived, blocking out everything else.
During break, the school grounds buzzed with students. As soon as Lila stepped outside, she felt eyes on her. It was different from yesterday's insults—it was curiosity now, mixed with mockery and jealousy. A group of boys near the corner laughed loudly. One of them shouted, "Lila, when's the wedding?" Another chimed in, "Don't forget to invite us!" The laughter spread across their group like wildfire. She closed her eyes for a split second, gathering strength, then kept walking. She didn't answer. She didn't even look at them.
But when she reached the water tap to drink, a girl she barely knew stepped in her way. This girl, shorter and sharp-eyed, folded her arms and smirked. "You think you're special now?" she said, her voice full of spite. "Just because a boy defended you? Don't start acting like a queen." Her tone was bitter, loud enough for others nearby to hear. Some students stopped to watch the scene unfold. The girl stepped closer, her face inches from Lila's. "You better remember your level."
Lila stood still, feeling the pressure rising in her chest. She wanted to speak. She wanted to answer back. But she didn't trust her voice not to shake. Before she could respond, someone grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her back. Jamal. His expression was dark, eyes fierce. "Leave her alone," he said, low but dangerous. "She never bothered you. Don't make her life harder because you have nothing better to do."
The girl yanked her arm free and glared at him, but she stepped away. She muttered something under her breath, then walked off quickly, pretending she wasn't intimidated. The small crowd dispersed slowly, disappointed that they didn't get a fight to enjoy. Jamal turned to Lila, his voice softer now. "Don't let them control you. They'll get tired eventually. Just keep living your life."
She nodded, breathing out slowly, like someone learning how to breathe again. She didn't thank him this time. She didn't need to. The look in her eyes already said it. But Jamal wasn't smiling. His expression showed he now understood how cruel people could be—and he wasn't going to let anyone break her if he could help it.
The rest of the day passed with the same whispers, the same curious looks, but something had changed. Not in the school, but inside Lila. For the first time in a long while, she realized she had the right to hold her head up, no matter who stared, no matter who talked. She wasn't alone anymore. And sometimes, support doesn't erase pain—but it gives someone the strength to survive it.
— To Be Continued —