The morning sun streamed through the windows of Westbridge High School, casting long shadows across the empty desks. Alice Hart sat in her usual spot at the back bench, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wooden surface. The classroom felt different now. Hollow. Empty.
Where Grace, Emily, and Sophia used to sit, there was nothing but silence. Their chairs stood vacant, a constant reminder of everything that had fallen apart. The principal's call still echoed in Alice's ears—the suspension letters, the investigations, the way her so-called best friends had looked at her like she was the enemy.
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. The quote drifted through her mind as she watched her classmates. Some turned to glance at her with pity. Others with suspicion. Most just kept their eyes forward, pretending nothing had changed.
At least fifteen seats were empty today. The group chat scandal had spread like wildfire, and the administration had swung its hammer hard. Suspensions everywhere. Parents called. Reputations destroyed. Alice wondered if any of them felt even a fraction of the pain she'd endured when those videos first surfaced.
Damian Jones sat three rows ahead, his attention fixed on the teacher's lecture. His posture was perfect, shoulders straight, eyes focused. He hadn't looked back at her once. Alice didn't know if that was a relief or a fresh wound.
"Miss Hart, are you paying attention?" The teacher's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Yes, ma'am." Alice straightened in her seat. "Sorry."
The teacher gave her a long look—the kind that said I see you, and I'm watching—before continuing the lesson. Alice exhaled slowly. She needed a break. The walls were closing in.
"May I use the restroom?" she asked, raising her hand.
Permission granted, Alice slipped out of the classroom and made her way down the hallway. The school was quiet between periods, her footsteps echoing against the lockers. She pushed open the bathroom door and immediately heard it.
Sobbing. The ugly kind that came from deep in the chest.
Alice froze in the doorway. Three girls huddled around the sink, their voices hushed and frantic. In the center stood a girl she vaguely recognized—a junior, maybe, with mascara running down her cheeks like black tears.
"It's not fair," the crying girl choked out between sobs. "They suspended me for three weeks. Three weeks! All because I forwarded a few pictures."
"Shh, keep your voice down," one of her friends whispered. "Someone could hear."
"I don't care anymore! This is all that slut's fault. Alice Hart ruined my life!"
Alice felt her lips curl into a small, cold smile. Karma has no deadline, but it always has a way of finding you.
She stepped into the bathroom, her shoes clicking against the tile. The crying girl's friends spotted her immediately. Their eyes went wide. One of them grabbed the sobbing girl's arm, trying to silence her.
But it was too late.
"You!" The crying girl spun around, her face twisted with rage. "This is all because of you! You little slut!"
Alice tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Excuse me? Do I know you?"
"Don't play dumb!" The girl lunged forward, but her friends held her back. "You got me suspended! My parents are furious! My college applications are ruined because of those stupid photos!"
"Oh." Alice's voice was calm. Bored, even. "You mean the fake photos? The ai videos you spread around like candy? Those ones?"
"Fake or not, you are shameless—"
"I am shameless?" Alice's composure cracked, just slightly. "You circulated some fabricated adult content of me online. You spread lies about me. You made my life a living hell. And now you're crying because you got caught? What an audacity!? You should lend me some of that cockiness in you. I could do so much better with it. "
The bathroom fell silent. The sobbing girl's friends exchanged nervous glances.
Alice stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want outside of school. That doesn't give your bitchass the right to slander me. And if you do slander me, at last have balls to bear the consequences of it."
The crying girl's face went red. "You—"
Slap.
The sound echoed off the bathroom tiles. Alice's head snapped to the side, her cheek burning. She stumbled back, more from surprise than pain, her hand flying to her face.
"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."
Alice's vision went red. Without thinking, she kicked out, her foot connecting with the crying girl's shin. The girl screamed and buckled. Alice followed up with an elbow to her back, sending her crashing into the sink.
"Oh my god!" one of the other girls shrieked. "Get her!"
Hands grabbed Alice's hair, yanking her head back. She swung blindly, her elbow slamming into someone's ribs. A punch flew toward her face, but she twisted just in time, the fist grazing her ear.
Chaos erupted.
Girls screamed. Fists flew. Nails raked across Alice's arms and neck. She kicked and clawed and fought back with everything she had, her body moving on pure instinct. The bathroom became a whirlwind of bodies and shrieks.
"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!"
The voice cut through the chaos like a knife. A lady teacher stood in the doorway, her face pale with shock. The girls froze mid-fight, panting and wide-eyed.
"All of you. Principal's office. NOW."
The principal's office smelled like stale coffee and desperation. Alice sat in one of the hard plastic chairs, her face throbbing, her arms covered in scratches. The other girls sat across from her, some crying, some glaring, all looking significantly less banged up.
Alice knew how this worked. She'd learned the game years ago.
Her bloody lip, the claw marks on her neck, the bruise forming on her cheek—it all told a story. A story of victimhood. A story the principal couldn't ignore.
"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."
The principal reviewed the security footage, the hallway cameras, the statements from the teacher. He looked at Alice. Then at the other girls. Then back at Alice.
"Miss Hart," he said slowly, "you'll receive a one-week suspension for fighting on school grounds."
Alice nodded, keeping her expression neutral.
"However," the principal continued, turning to the other girls, "you three have been suspended for the remainder of the semester. Your parents will be contacted immediately. Physical assault, cyberbullying, distribution of explicit content—serious offenses my dear girls. Have some shame. Beating up a victim after all that she went through. IS THIS WHAT YOUR PARENTS TAUGHT YOU?"
The crying girl burst into tears again. Her friends looked like they'd been slapped.
"Miss Hart," the principal said, "you're dismissed. Please report to the nurse's office."
Alice stood, wincing at the pain in her ribs, and walked out without looking back.
The sickroom was cold and quiet. Alice sat on the edge of one of the beds, dabbing at her cuts with a cotton ball, putiing oinments and bandaids. The nurse had disappeared into the staff washroom five minutes ago and hadn't returned.
Alice pressed the cotton against her split lip and winced. The pain was sharp, immediate. The tears came before she could stop them.
Why does everything have to be so hard?
She heard footsteps in the doorway. Heavy. Hesitant.
Damian stood at the threshold, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her. His face went pale. His jaw tightened.
"Alice..."
She looked away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Go away."
"Look at you." His voice was rough. "You're bleeding."
"I said go away, Damian."
He didn't move. He stood there like a statue, his fists clenched at his sides, his expression caught between anger and devastation. Damian opened his mouth to respond, but another figure appeared behind him.
Melvin Blackthorne pushed past Damian, giving him a sharp side-eye before stepping into the room. His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his brow was furrowed with genuine concern.
"Alice? Are you okay?"
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice flat.
Melvin settled onto the bed beside her, ignoring the personal space she clearly wanted. "I heard about the fight. I had to come check on you."
"You didn't need to."
Melvin laughed—a hollow sound. "Look, I still care about you, okay? If not as your boyfriend, then at least as your friend."
Alice scoffed, but the sound came out weak. "We were never really boyfriends and girlfriends, Melvin. We both know that."
He flinched slightly but recovered quickly. "Doesn't matter. I still care."
From the doorway, Damian watched the exchange. His face was unreadable. After a moment, he turned and walked away without a word.
Alice felt her heart crack. She wanted to call him back, to say something—anything—but the promise hung between them like a wall she couldn't climb.
Melvin caught her staring after Damian. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're looking at him a lot these days," he observed.
"I'm not looking at anyone."
"Sure." He leaned back on his hands. "Are you joining the Damian Crush Club or something? I know it's popular now."
Alice shot him a look of pure disgust. "Those clubs are a cesspool for creepy stalkers. I'm not interested in bullshit Melvin. I thought you know me better than this."
"Good." Melvin's tone was off, but he didn't push. "Then what's wrong? Why are you so pissed at me?"
"I'm not pissed at you."
"Could have fooled me."
Alice made a face and pressed her hand to her stomach. The pain there had been building all day—a familiar, unwelcome ache. "It's nothing. Just... it's been a tough week. My periods are on... plus I've got bullying. Cyberbullying. Best friends stabbing me in the back. A fight. A suspension. All these poisons served like the main course. I'm tired, Melvin. I'm so tired of all this drama."
Melvin's expression softened. "Do you need anything? Painkillers? I can grab some from the office."
"No, I have it all." Alice managed a weak smile. "But thanks. Really."
He patted her knee awkwardly and stood. "Get some rest, okay? And if those girls bother you again, let me know. I'll handle it."
"How very chivalrous of you."
Melvin grinned—a flash of his old bravado. "That's me. Sir Melvin, the Knight of—"
"Get out."
He laughed and left, waving over his shoulder.
Finally alone, Alice let herself sag against the bed. Her body ached. Her heart ached. She stared at the doorway, thinking about Damian's face as he'd walked away.
I should be grateful he's staying away. That's what I wanted. That's what's best for both of us. But it didn't feel like gratitude. It felt like grief.
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
Alice sat on the bleachers during lunch, eating a granola bar she'd found in her backpack. Below, Damian's football team practiced drills. He moved across the field with grace, all long strides and easy confidence, laughing with his teammates.
Alice watched him, her eyes tracing the way his muscles moved under his jersey, the way his smile lit up his entire face. She felt like a stalker. She felt like a fool.
"The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of."
Melvin appeared beside her, dropping onto the bleacher with a groan. "What's up?"
"I told you to fuck off."
"Wow. Touchy." He followed her gaze to the field. "Still watching him, huh?"
"I'm not watching anyone."
"Right. And I'm the queen of England." Melvin nudged her shoulder. "You know, you could just talk to him. It's not that complicated."
"It's very complicated." Alice finally looked at him. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's not going to happen. We made a choice and—"
"And now you're both miserable." Melvin shrugged. "Seems like a great choice."
Alice pressed her lips together. "Can you just leave me alone? I'm not in the mood for your commentary."
He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'm going. But Alice?" He stood, brushing off his pants. "He's not the only option out there. Just saying."
She didn't respond. She just turned back to the field and watched Damian until practice ended.
On the bus ride home, Alice was the first to board. She chose her favorite seat—a window seat near the back—and slumped into it, her body screaming with exhaustion and pain.
The summer heat made everything worse. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back, the cuts on her neck stinging. She leaned her head against the window and let her eyes drift closed.
Slowly, the bus filled with students. Voices rose and fell. Someone sat beside her—she could feel the shift in weight—but she was too tired to open her eyes.
Just a few minutes. I'll just rest for a few minutes.
She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, someone was opening the window beside her.
Damian.
Her breath caught. He was sitting next to her, his profile silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. She watched him for a moment, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead.
He turned to her, and when their eyes met, something in her chest cracked open.
"You're awake," he said softly.
"Barely." Her voice came out like a rasp. "What are you doing here?"
"Your usual seat is next to mine, remember?"
She remembered. She'd just hoped he would sit somewhere else. That would have been the safe thing. The smart thing.
But here he was. And she was too exhausted to fight it.
Damian reached into his bag and pulled out two things—an ice pack and a heat bag. He placed the ice pack on her forehead and the heat bag on her abdomen, pressing it gently against her.
"You looked like you were in pain," he murmured. "I thought this might help."
Alice felt her eyes sting. "How did you know I had my period?"
"Lucky guess." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Also, you had your hand on your stomach all day and you bought period pads at the store yesterday. I noticed."
"Of course you did."
He pressed the heat bag a little harder, his hand covering hers. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," she lied.
Damian wiped a tear from her cheek. "You're crying."
"I'm just tired."
"Then rest. I'll wake you when we get to your stop."
Alice nodded, too drained to argue. She leaned her head against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent—something like soap and sweat and something uniquely him.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Always."
She closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come. Instead, she stared out the window, watching the buildings blur past, feeling the weight of his shoulder against hers.
I can't keep doing this. Every moment I spend with him makes it harder to walk away. But I can't stay away either. What's wrong with me?
Damian's hand stayed over hers, warm and steady. She could feel his eyes on her, could feel the questions he was too afraid to ask.
They had made a promise to stay apart. For the sake of their futures, for the sake of not hurting each other. But sitting here, with his hand in hers, Alice wondered if that promise had been a mistake.
Some things were worth fighting for.
But some things were impossible.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
The quote felt stupid and irrelevant. None of this was about fortune. It was about two people who had been forced apart by circumstances they couldn't control.
Alice closed her eyes and let herself pretend—just for a moment—that things were different. That they were just two kids on a bus, and that nothing else mattered.
But when the bus stopped at her corner, she opened her eyes and remembered. There was no future for them. There was only now. And now was already slipping through her fingers. She slowly got down from the bus, waved him goodbye and sighed before walking back home.