It was between classes, the halls bustling with students heading to their next lesson that I had slipped into the restroom, hoping to have a mont of peace before the next period.
When I entered one of the stalls, I soon heard familiar voices filtering through the air—a sharp giggle, followed by a hushed but excited whisper.
Sophie's voice.
I stayed still, my hand freezing on the latch. There were a few other girls in the restroom, their voices echoing off the tile, and I quickly realized it was Guinevere and her lackeys.
Being one of the wealthiest families in the city, Guinevere carried herself with the sa arrogance that all the elite students at our school did.
But of course, her family still ranked beneath the Rosettes. That didn't stop her from acting like she owned the place.
And why should it? I never retaliated.
My silence gave her the confidence to keep pushing around, not physically, but emotionally. Little remarks, subtle jabs—each one a dagger to my reputation.
No one saw it, but I felt it every day. She knew how to strike just enough to hurt without leaving any visible scars.
I couldn't escape it. School had beco a battlefield, and I was the one losing ground, step by step. If I ever dared to bring it up to Sophia or Sullivan, they'd dismiss it as unnecessary drama.
"Don't cause trouble,"
they'd say.
"Focus on what's important."
Of course, they didn't care. I wasn't really their child.
Just a piece on their board, soone to be moved around as needed.
"I
hate
to say it," Sophie's voice began, full of that sickening sweetness she always carried, "but Eve just keeps pushing it with young master Cole, you know? I feel sorry for the guy."
Sophie had a gift—she knew exactly how to stir the pot, especially when it ca to gossip. She could manipulate rumors like a puppeteer pulling strings, setting the stage for the perfect fallout.
And when it ca to Cole Fay and his cousins, she knew exactly how to wield their nas like weapons.
They were the dream of every girl in school—handso, devastatingly wealthy, with the kind of power that made everyone else feel small. Girls whispered about them in the halls, their every move sparking fantasies and envy alike.
What more could anyone want? They were untouchable. Unreachable.
And Sophie, of course, knew how to use that to her advantage, turning admiration into competition, friendships into rivalries. She never missed a chance to pit them against each other, all with that sweet, innocent smile on her face, as if butter wouldn't lt in her mouth.
And since I was the supposed fiancée of Cole Fay, every woman's envy was fixated on . They couldn't wait to rip apart at the slightest misstep.
I could feel it—the weight of their jealousy, their anticipation for the mont I'd stumble. They were like vultures, circling, waiting for the kill.
I couldn't bla them, though. It was also my fault. Before, I
was
just that crazy girl chasing after Cole, obsessing over a man who had no interest in .
I didn't focus on myself, didn't care about my own strength or worth. I was blinded by the fantasy, running after soone who saw as nothing more than an inconvenience.
And that made an easy target—my strength buried beneath the image of a lovesick, crazed girl.
Guinevere snickered, "Like, does she
really
think they're still engaged? Everyone knows that was just a family arrangent. Everyone knows that Cole only
tolerated
her."
"Oh, absolutely," Sophie sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy, her eyes glinting as she spoke. "I really feel for Lina, you know? She's always so patient, so gracious, but Eve . . . well, she made a complete scene during dance practice the other day."
Sophie leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "She actually said, in front of everyone, that she
wanted
Cole and not Lina to practice, after Lina said that her brother was busy. Can you believe it? Poor Lina, standing there, trying to keep her composure while she made such a spectacle. It's honestly heartbreaking, the way Eve behaves sotis . . ."
There was a pause, and the other girls leaned in closer. Sophie loved dragging her audience along for her tales.
"Last week, during dance practice? Eve practically begged Cole to rehearse with her," Sophie continued, her voice hushed but dripping with false sympathy. "You should've seen Lina's face . . . She was so irritated. But of course, Eve
insisted
. You know how she is."
"Wait, are you serious?" One of the other girls gasped. "Eve
begged
him?"
"I shouldn't say too much," Sophie replied with a soft, almost regretful sigh. "I don't want to make her look bad. She's . . . going through a lot, you know? But it's hard not to feel sorry for Lina. Eve is just making things so
awkward
for everyone."
"Wow, no wonder Lina's been distant from her," Guinevere added, clearly buying into the lie. "I feel sorry for you for having to attend such a woman. She has no class at all. She makes everyone in our status look bad."
Sophie gave a delicate laugh, like she was trying to downplay her own involvent. "I'm sure Eve doesn't
an
to cause trouble. She just . . . well, you know. She's probably just feeling lonely. But honestly, I think she's making it harder for everyone."
The girls fell into a chorus of agreent, each one taking Sophie's words as gospel, spreading the poisonous narrative even further.
Behind the stall door, my fingers tightened on the tal handle. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain silent.
I knew Sophie had been trying to turn people against , but hearing it firsthand, knowing how effortlessly she spun lies, was like a punch to the gut.
And the worst part? Sophie had done it so innocently, painting herself as a concerned friend, all while digging the knife deeper into my back.
It was why I hadn't suspected her before—Sophie was always so subtle, always so sweet on the surface, never the type to get her hands dirty.
But now, I saw through her act. This ti, I wouldn't let the whispers and lies go unchecked.
Not anymore.
The best way to deal with bullies? You strike back.
BaaAmM!
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