Rising from Ashes: Reborn 17

Chapter 6: Under The Spotlight

Mayella POV:

The buzz of the classroom surrounded me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I still felt shaken after meeting Wiktor again. Every encounter, every glance was a reminder of the emotional baggage I was carrying from my past life. Leelu nudged me, her voice bursting with excitement.

"May, look who's here! It's Maxmillian, and I swear he's here for you."

His name felt like a stab, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed. Why now? Why him?

"What does he want?" I whispered, more to myself than to anyone around.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Xavia smirking.

"He's drawing quite the crowd. Not every day the school's heartthrob stands outside our classroom."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on me.

"Well, let's not keep him waiting."

As I approached him, weaving through the huddle of curious onlookers, memories of our shared past - pain, betrayal, and fleeting moments of happiness - flooded back.

"Maxmillian," I greeted, keeping my voice neutral.

His familiar smile, which once sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach, now sent a chill down my spine.

"Been a while, Mayella."

I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

"What do you want, Max?"

Our exchange didn't go unnoticed. Arabella chose that very moment to step in, ever the peacemaker - or so she saw herself.

"May, remember the business ties."

I snapped,

"The business can wait. This is personal."

Arabella looked taken aback. I seldom lost my cool, but now wasn't the time for niceties. Looking back at Maxmillian, I said,

"We'll talk. But not here. Not now."

I walked away, leaving whispers and a visibly surprised Maxmillian behind. The cacophony of the classroom faded to a low murmur as I boldly declared,

"From today, I don't have an ounce of affection for him. I'm done."

Leelu face was a picture of pure disbelief, her brows furrowed.

"Wait, Mayella, you're yanking my chain, right? Just yesterday, you were all starry-eyed, entertaining the ludicrous idea of getting Maxmillian's name permanently etched on your skin. And today, suddenly, you're telling me it's all over?"

Recalling my adolescent whims made me cringe inwardly. I took a deep breath, steadying myself,

"Look, Leelu, those were fleeting fancies. Impulsive, thoughtless ones. We didn’t ink anything, did we? Anyway, we have an exam coming up, and I've made up my mind to ace it. I really need to focus."

But dismissing Leelu’s bewilderment was akin to trying to calm a storm with a whisper. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper,

"May, I've known you since we were in nappies. You always had this...thing for Max. This sudden change of heart is throwing me for a loop! Is this about the incident with Mr. Zephyr yesterday?"

I exhaled slowly, my fingers drumming on the desk. Being the talk of the class wasn't something I relished. Every hushed conversation, every sidelong glance, reminded me of the past version of myself that had been infatuated with Vanderlin's golden boy, Maxmillian.

Suddenly, Leelu gasped, her grip on my wrist tightening.

"Oh my God, May! Max is right outside the door! Maybe he's waiting for you!"

Before I could even process the situation, I found myself propelled out of my seat and into the throng of giggling girls who had clustered around the classroom entrance. The weight of multiple eyes on me was heavy, but none was as piercing as Maxmillian's.

Stoic, with an air of casual confidence, Maxmillian was indeed a sight. Standing tall, his lean frame was draped in the school's pristine uniform, but it was those deep-set eyes of his that always drew attention. For a moment, our gazes locked, and I could sense a myriad of emotions swirling within him. He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the excited murmurs.

"We need to chat. Somewhere less...crowded."

He turned on his heels and started walking, fully expecting me to follow. And as I did, I couldn’t help but wonder about the gravity of our impending conversation. What had changed between yesterday and today? Would this conversation herald a new chapter in our tangled histories?

As Maxmillian and I walked side by side through the corridors of Wardell, every step was an echo of memories, every turn a stark reminder of the path I'd once tread for him. The distance between us was palpable. Even though he was right next to me, he felt worlds apart, lost in the storm of the past.

Wardell's familiar walls, which once resonated with laughter and youthful chatter, now seemed to whisper tales of betrayal and regret. The lockers we passed, the windows that let in the golden afternoon sun, and the tiles under our feet, everything felt like a backdrop to the silent theater of our shared past.

With every step, memories surged, flooding my mind with moments of vulnerability, trust, and sacrifice. The nights I had consoled him, the secrets we had shared under Wardell's ancient oak, the dreams we had spun together. I had been his anchor, his constant, his friend. And yet, that motherfucker had turned his back on me when I needed him the most.

My heart raced, not with affection, but with a mix of rage and clarity. The sharp pain of his betrayal, the realization that he had played a part in my untimely end in my past life, felt like a fresh wound. But I wouldn't let him see the storm inside. I had learned to hide, to wear my armor well.

As we moved, I noticed we were heading towards Wardell’s gardens - a place of solace during our school days. The flowers still bloomed, and the leaves still whispered secrets to the wind. But now, they whispered tales of betrayal. I could almost hear them hissing the word bastard every time a gust of wind rustled through.

He didn't speak, and neither did I. His strides were confident, but there was a tension in the air. Was he aware of the storm that brewed within me? Did he sense the promise of retribution that pulsed through my veins?

As we neared the heart of the garden, I decided that I would not let this bastard dictate the narrative. But before I could act, he stopped near the central fountain, indicating I should wait. Was this the place he had chosen for whatever he intended? I eyed him warily, maintaining my calm facade. I'd follow his lead for now, see where this path took us. But one thing was certain; by the time this was over, Maxmillian would wish he had never crossed paths with me in either of our lives. That motherfucker had a storm coming. And I was its epicenter.

The hushed rustle of leaves in Wardell's secluded grove was a stark contrast to the memories playing out in my mind. A bitter symphony of what had been. When I first stepped into the illustrious halls of Wardell, it was under the shadow of a failure. The damning evidence of my subpar performance on the University entrance exams had left my father with no choice but to invest heavily in this institution. It was to be a fresh start, a second shot at a prestigious university.

But life at Wardell took an unforeseen twist. From my very first day, my eyes, heart, and soul were captivated by one Maxmillian. The boy was a phenomenon, not just a student. With his towering presence, dark brooding looks, and an air of arrogance, he was the heartbeat of Wardell, the one everyone either wanted or wanted to be.

In a painfully short span of time, my infatuation became the talk of the school. The privileged heiress of the Westwood empire, hopelessly ensnared by the charms of the elusive Maxmillian. Every morning, I'd find reasons to cross his path. I showered him with gifts, most of which were likely discarded or forgotten. I even woke up hours earlier to make him breakfast, hoping to win his heart through his stomach. The depth of my feelings was clear to everyone, and so was his blatant indifference. Yet, today, the script had flipped. As he stopped and faced me, his eyes bore into mine, searching for something familiar.

"Why weren't you there? You said you'd bring breakfast. I waited, Mayella."

His voice echoed with a hint of accusation, but all I heard was the biting reminder of my past follies. All those mornings I'd painstakingly cooked for him, hoping that one day he'd see the love behind each meal. The truth was glaringly evident now; he had taken all of it for granted.

A sardonic smile curved my lips.

“So, you missed a meal. The world hasn't ended, has it?"

His brow furrowed, taken aback by my chilly demeanor.

"You promised."

"That was then," I retorted, my voice dripping with disdain. "Times change, Maxmillian. People change."

He looked as if he was trying to solve a complex puzzle. The desperate, lovestruck Mayella he knew was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was confronted with someone who wore her scars with pride and wasn't afraid to challenge him.

"Every single morning," I continued, the bitterness evident, "I'd hand you a piece of my heart, hoping you'd notice. Notice the girl behind those breakfasts, behind those shy smiles. And what did you do? You took it all, never once acknowledging the sacrifices."

He opened his mouth to retort, but I held up a hand.

"I've seen through you now. Every smirk, every dismissive glance, every ignored gesture. And let me make it clear, motherfucker, I won't be the naive girl you can string along anymore. Not in this life."

As I locked eyes with Maxmillian, I couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across my face.

“Max,” I began, my tone dripping with condescension, “For sixty days, rain or shine, I played the part of the doting girlfriend, bringing you breakfast. And for those sixty days, you consistently left me hanging. So, tell me, does it sting to get a taste of your own medicine?”

The look of surprise on his face was almost comical. He struggled to form words, but I wasn’t done.

“From now on, no more breakfasts. And do me a favor, will you? Quit spreading tales about my supposed infatuation. I’m done with that chapter.”

I took a moment to let my words sink in and then took a step back, the weight of our past interactions momentarily lifting. I could hear him sputtering behind me, trying to make sense of it all.

“Since when have I been parading you around?” He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

The reality, however, was clear. Even if he hadn’t explicitly broadcasted our relationship, his attitude and our interactions had led everyone at Wardell to paint their own picture.

He remembered my soft-spoken request from yesterday, asking him to meet me for breakfast at the cafeteria. An innocent plea, yet here he was, played for a fool. Was this all just a game for me?

His contemplative silence was broken by Arabella, her gaze gentle yet probing.

“Maxmillian, what went down between you and May?”

Remembering our exchange, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Your sister,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “has a peculiar way of showing affection.”

Arabella sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"That's just how May is. Fierce and relentless when she sets her sights on something. But her passions are like fireworks - brilliant but fleeting."

He shot her a skeptical look.

“Has she always been this...volatile?”

Arabella hesitated, choosing her words wisely.

"In high school, she had her phases. Crushes, flings... the works. And about that school anniversary event; when May found out I nominated you in her stead, she was livid. She's been harboring that resentment ever since. Classic May, right?”

He shook his head, struggling to piece everything together. So, was I just another pawn in her elaborate game of affections?

Disentangling himself from the mire of emotions and overthinking, he continued on his way, the events of the day weighing heavily on his mind. f*****g hell, what a day.