His Redemption

004 Acting like nothing happened

“You took forever! Is everything okay?” Sia asked, grabbing my arm, her eyes full of concern. I sat down next to her and dropped my paperwork on the desk.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I got my phone,” I said, trying to sound normal. “And someone bumped into me on the way there.”

She frowned, brows furrowed in question. “Who?” She shifted in her seat, giving me her full attention.

“Who else but the same people.” She looked confused for a second, then it clicked — and she gasped, making me jump.

“The guys?” I nodded at her dramatic expression.

“And maybe his girl.” The words tasted bitter, like acid in my gut.

Sia’s eyes went wide. “Vanessa? She’s trouble. Over-possessive. Any word you’d use for a witch, yeah.” She grimaced. “Hope you didn’t get splashed with her poison.”

I sighed. “Trust me, after that encounter, staying away from them is exactly what I plan to do.”

My main goal was to avoid falling in love or catching feelings, but here I was — already tangled in jealousy over someone I’d met only a few hours ago. This is f*****g ridiculous.

Back home, I was scrolling through i********: after that wave of jealous hit me at school. A profile caught my eye:

Jonson’s. I slid into his page and got lost in his artwork. His drawings were explosive with color and texture, every piece alive, like it could jump off the screen and grab you. I checked his followers — over two million. His following list was short, and I spotted familiar names: Joseph, Scott, Jay, and Dave.

But one name was missing: Michael’s.

It was strange. He’s so popular, you’d think he’d be all over social media, but he was a ghost online.

After following the guys and spending about twenty minutes looking through their posts, I logged out. The glow from my screen faded as I reached for my schoolbooks. The familiar weight of them felt grounding. Time to do my assignment. I remembered my dad’s words back in Paris:

“First love never dies.” He’d always said it, even after he stopped loving Mom. He still took her in, covered her expenses, and as a man who’d never been lucky in love, he still believed love had its own timing.

Did that phrase even mean anything? I couldn’t help wondering if it would ever be true for me.

The next day, I got out of the taxi and the school gate loomed ahead like a wall. As I walked in, I caught a group of students whispering about a new girl supposedly trying to steal Michael away. My curiosity sparked — who was this mystery girl?

I scanned the campus and spotted Sia hunched in a corner, phone in hand, typing fast with worry etched across her face. I hurried over and tapped her shoulder. Sia looked tense, eyebrows knitted tight.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, noticing the strain in her face.

Sia let out a heavy sigh. “Vanessa just posted something on the school blog,” she said, voice low and worried.

“She’s claiming a new girl is trying to steal her boyfriend. And because of what you told me yesterday about running into Michael right before Vanessa showed up… I think she might be talking about you.”

I looked at Sia, half amused, half serious. Why would I steal someone else’s boyfriend? Someone like me doesn’t stand a chance against her. She has everything — beauty, status, and a perfect boyfriend to match. Why would she be scared of anyone taking that away?

“Sia, I’m not the only new student here. There are others who joined this year too, so it’s probably not me,” I said, trying to calm her down.

But deep down, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The way Michael had looked at me, and how fast Vanessa appeared… Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.

Sia wasn’t convinced. “Diana, Michael barely looks at anyone, and he definitely doesn’t talk to new students. Plus, the timing of Vanessa’s post? It was right after she saw you near him.” She tapped her phone screen. “Look, I’m going to show you the post.”

Sia pulled up the school blog and handed me her phone. There was a blurry photo of Michael and me standing close in the cafeteria, right before Vanessa walked in. The caption was in big, angry letters:

> STOP TRYING TO STEAL MY MAN! Some new scholarship girl thinks she can keep bumping into Michael and steal him? Think again. He’s Micky’s! Stay in your lane.

My blood ran cold. The picture was distorted — it made it look like we were kissing, not arguing over a forgotten phone. And the “scholarship girl” comment was a clear shot at me.

I breathed out slowly and handed the phone back, my face burning with embarrassment and anger.

“This is Zoya’s tactic,” Sia said. “She doesn’t like competition, especially when it comes to Michael. Now everyone in school will assume you’re the culprit.”

“How complicated,” I muttered, forcing a laugh as unease washed over me. Just then, the morning bell rang, signaling the start of first class. We rushed inside.

When I walked into the classroom, the atmosphere had shifted. Instead of the usual friendly glances, people were staring and whispering openly. Curious eyes. Suspicious looks. Some were even hostile. The rumor had spread like wildfire.

I slid into the seat next to Sia, trying to act like the gossip didn’t touch me. Moments later, Michael and his friends strolled in. Michael’s eyes swept the room and landed on me for a split second. His expression was unreadable no anger, no flirtation, just blank.

Probably the rumor didn’t phase him. He looked annoyingly calm. His friends slid into their seats.

He walked past me and sat down without a glance. Usually, his presence was heavy, suffocating even. But this silence this deliberate avoidance, was just as sharp. It felt like he was distancing himself, confirming Vanessa’s claims just by ignoring me.

Sia leaned in and whispered, nudging me gently. “He’s acting like nothing happened. He won’t step in, and he definitely won’t defend you. You have to ignore this too.”

The professor started the lecture, but I couldn’t focus. Every whisper, every stare made my cheeks burn. The truth was, Michael’s cold silence hurt more than his earlier rudeness. It made me feel like I was nothing more than a petty annoyance he needed to brush off.