Veiled Threats
1082 Words
By Monday morning, the story wasn’t just theirs anymore—it belonged to the campus.
Angel could feel it the moment she walked into the cafeteria. Conversations hushed when she passed, then rose again in whispers. Some people didn’t even bother to lower their voices.
“That’s her, the one Daniel’s chasing.”
“She’s pretending she’s innocent, but everyone knows.”
“Poor Racheal. She deserves better than that.”
Angel gripped her tray so tightly her knuckles turned white. The eggs on her plate looked suddenly unappetizing, the orange juice too sour.
Chika met her halfway across the room and looped her arm through Angel’s. “Head up, babe. Don’t let them eat you alive.”
Angel forced a small smile, but her stomach churned. She scanned the cafeteria automatically, searching for Racheal. And there she was, sitting at a table across the room with a few classmates, laughing at something one of them said. Her laughter was sharp, too loud, almost rehearsed. But when her eyes flicked up and met Angel’s, the laughter died instantly. She looked away, leaving Angel with a hollow ache.
Classes weren’t much better. In the lecture hall, Angel could feel eyes on her back, hear the faint hiss of whispered comments. The professor’s voice faded in and out, drowned by the thud of her own heartbeat.
Mariam slid a note across the desk: Ignore them. Focus on you.
Angel scribbled back: How do I ignore something this loud?
Mariam didn’t answer, only reached over to squeeze her hand.
But Racheal, sitting two rows down, never looked back.
That afternoon, the gossip took on a sharper edge.
Angel was walking toward the library when two girls she barely knew passed by. One whispered just loud enough for her to hear: “Homewrecker.”
Angel froze. Heat flooded her face, tears stung her eyes, but she forced herself to keep walking. If she stopped, if she reacted, they’d win.
But the word echoed in her chest all the same.
That evening, Chika stormed into their dorm room, fuming.
“This is ridiculous,” she announced, tossing her backpack on the bed. “Half the girls on this campus are acting like you killed someone, Angel. Meanwhile, Daniel’s walking around with that smug face like he’s a prize to be won.”
Angel sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her hands. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am…” Her voice broke. “Maybe I am the problem.”
“Don’t you dare,” Chika snapped, kneeling in front of her. “You didn’t betray anyone, Angel. You caught feelings. That’s not a crime—it’s human.”
“But it’s Racheal,” Angel whispered, tears streaming now. “She trusted me. And I…” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “I broke her heart.”
Chika sighed, pulling her into a hug. “You made a mistake, not a murder. Stop punishing yourself.”
Meanwhile, in another part of campus, Racheal was fighting her own battle.
She sat in the common room with a group of classmates. They leaned in eagerly, waiting for her to speak, feeding on her pain.
“So, is it true?” one girl asked, eyes wide. “Daniel and Angel? Are they, like, together now?”
Racheal forced a tight smile. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”
They gasped, whispering furiously, their curiosity satisfied. But inside, Racheal’s stomach twisted. Every time she let the rumors run wild, she felt like she was losing a piece of herself. Yet she couldn’t stop.
Because deep down, some bitter part of her wanted Angel to feel the sting of being judged.
By midweek, the tension reached a boiling point.
Daniel walked into the student union, smiling as if the world belonged to him. The room buzzed instantly. Whispers, laughter, side-eyes—it followed him like perfume.
When he spotted Angel sitting with Mariam, he walked straight to her table.
“Angel,” he said warmly, ignoring the stares. “Can we talk?”
Angel froze. “Daniel, not here—”
“Please,” he pressed, lowering his voice. “Just five minutes.”
But before she could answer, Racheal appeared at the doorway. Her eyes locked on them, and silence fell across the room.
It was as if the entire campus held its breath.
Racheal’s voice rang out, cold and sharp. “Of course he’s with you again.”
Angel’s face burned. “Rach, please, not like this—”
“No,” Racheal cut her off, stepping closer. Her voice trembled with rage. “I want everyone to hear this. You were supposed to be my sister, Angel. My family. But you chose him. You chose this.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Daniel tried to intervene, but Racheal shoved his arm away. “Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ruin both of us and then play the hero.”
Angel’s tears spilled freely now. “I never chose him over you. I never wanted this.”
Racheal’s voice cracked. “Then why does it feel like I’ve already lost you?”
The room was so quiet you could hear the hum of the vending machine. Angel opened her mouth, desperate to explain, but the words tangled in her throat.
Finally, Racheal shook her head, her eyes glistening. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
She turned and walked out, leaving Angel trembling in front of half the student body. Daniel reached for her hand, but she pulled it back as if burned.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, before running out the opposite door.
That night, Mariam found Angel sitting alone by the fountain, her face streaked with tears.
“They all hate me,” Angel whispered. “And Racheal… she hates me too.”
Mariam sat beside her, quiet for a long time. Finally, she spoke. “Hate isn’t the right word. She’s hurt, Angel. Broken. But hate? No. If she hated you, she wouldn’t still care so much.”
Angel sniffled, shaking her head. “Then why does it feel like we’re strangers now?”
Mariam’s eyes softened. “Because sometimes love—sisterhood, friendship, whatever you call it—gets buried under anger. But buried doesn’t mean gone.”
Angel clung to those words, but in her heart, the fear remained. What if buried love never rose again?
- Writer
