CHAPTER THREE- THE RUMOR
1315 Words
By Monday morning, I had convinced myself that the strange feeling I got whenever Maya looked at me was nothing.
That was the first lie I told myself.
The second was that I wasn’t waiting for her outside the lecture hall.
I was.
I had arrived twenty minutes early, my laptop already open, my notes spread across the table, and absolutely no reason to keep looking toward the entrance every thirty seconds.
Then she appeared.
Late.
Of course.
Maya came through the doors with her bag hanging from one shoulder, her hair slightly messy, and a cup of coffee in her hand.
She saw me.
And smiled.
That stupid smile.
“You’re early.”
“You’re late.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“You said you’d send me your research.”
“I did.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“You sent me a blank document.”
She laughed.
“I was going to fill it in.”
I closed my eyes.
“Maya.”
“I’m joking.”
She pulled out the chair beside me and sat down.
“I sent it this morning.”
I checked my phone.
There it was.
A message from her.
Maya: Don’t kill me.
Attached was a document.
I opened it.
For the first time all morning, I smiled.
“You actually did it.”
“I told you I would.”
“Half an hour before the presentation?”
“We’re not presenting today.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you complaining?”
I looked at her.
“Because you enjoy stressing me.”
She leaned closer.
“Maybe I enjoy seeing you angry.”
My smile disappeared.
She was still smiling.
I couldn’t tell whether she was joking.
That was becoming a problem.
Because lately, everything Maya said seemed to have two meanings.
And I was beginning to hear the one she didn’t say.
I looked back at my laptop.
“Let’s just finish this.”
“Yes, boss.”
⸻
We stayed in the library for almost three hours.
Somewhere between arguing over references and fighting over which section belonged in the introduction, the tension between us disappeared.
Or maybe I just stopped noticing it.
Maya rested her chin on her hand while I explained something she’d already asked me twice.
“You know you’re cute when you’re annoyed?”
My fingers stopped moving.
“What?”
She blinked.
“I said you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then she laughed.
“I’m kidding.”
“Oh.”
I looked down at my laptop.
“You’re weird.”
“I know.”
I could feel her looking at me.
I tried to ignore it but I failed.
When I finally looked up, she wasn’t smiling anymore.
There was something softer in her expression.
Something I didn’t know what to do with.
“Eleena.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“Why do you always look like you’re about to run away?”
My heart dropped.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
She leaned back.
“Every time we get too close, you pull away.”
I swallowed.
“We’re sitting across a table.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
That was the problem.
I closed my laptop.
“We should go.”
Her expression changed.
“See?”
“See what?”
“You’re doing it again.”
I stood.
“I have to get home.”
“You have two hours before your curfew.”
I froze.
“How do you know that?”
She shrugged.
“You told me.”
“I did?”
“Last week.”
“Oh.”
I picked up my bag.
Maya stood too.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she reached toward me.
Her fingers brushed mine.
Barely.
A tiny accidental touch.
But neither of us moved away.
My heart began pounding.
Maya looked down at our hands.
Then back at me.
“Eleena…”
A voice behind us broke the moment.
“Are you two coming?”
We turned.
It was Daniel from our class.
He was standing a few metres away, watching us.
I pulled my hand away so quickly that it almost hurt.
“Yeah,” I said.
Maya said nothing.
Daniel smiled.
Not warmly.
Just knowingly.
And suddenly, I wanted to leave.
⸻
The rumour started the next day.
I didn’t know who started it.
I only knew that by lunchtime, people were looking at us differently.
Whispering.
Stopping conversations when we walked past.
Maya noticed too.
“What’s going on?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
A girl sitting at the next table glanced at us and whispered something to her friend.
Maya frowned.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Eleena.”
“Forget it.”
But I couldn’t.
Because I knew that look.
I’d seen it before.
The look people gave when they thought they knew something about you.
Something you hadn’t told them.
Something they had no right to know.
Maya picked up her phone.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She showed me her screen.
A message had been posted in our course group.
Anonymous: Some people are getting very comfortable with their project partners.
My stomach twisted.
Another message appeared.
Anonymous: Very comfortable.
Someone replied with a laughing emoji.
Then another.
Then another.
Maya locked her phone.
“Ignore them.”
I couldn’t.
“People talk.”
“Let them.”
“You don’t understand.”
She looked at me.
“Then explain it to me.”
I stared at her.
How could I explain something I barely understood myself?
“People don’t talk about me like this.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t give them anything to talk about.”
Maya’s face softened.
“Eleena.”
“I need to go.”
She caught my wrist before I could walk away.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop me.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of being close to me.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
But I didn’t.
Not really.
She let go.
And I walked away.
⸻
That evening, my mother was waiting for me when I got home.
She was sitting in the living room with my father.
Neither of them spoke when I entered.
I stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
My father looked at my mother.
Then back at me.
“Sit down.”
My stomach sank.
I slowly put my bag down.
“What happened?”
My mother reached for her phone.
“Who is Maya?”
Everything inside me went still.
I tried to keep my face neutral.
“My friend.”
My father’s expression hardened.
“Just a friend?”
“Yes.”
My mother unlocked her phone.
“Then why did someone send me this?”
She turned the screen toward me.
I couldn’t see the message clearly from where I stood.
But I saw one thing.
A photograph.
My photograph.
Maya’s hand was wrapped around mine.
Neither of us had known anyone was taking it.
And beneath the picture was a caption.
I thought you should know what your daughter is doing at university.
My blood ran cold.
My mother looked at me.
“Eleena.”
Her voice was quiet.
Far too quiet.
“Who is this girl to you?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because suddenly, I understood.
The campus rumour wasn’t just a rumour anymore.
Someone had taken it home.
And whoever had sent that photograph to my parents…
knew exactly what they were doing.
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