✨ Chapter Three — The Boy With a Past
1562 Words
✨ Chapter Three — The Boy With a Past
The morning Amani returned to her old school felt heavier than any morning she had lived through before. The sky was gray, swollen with unshed rain, and the wind carried the smell of dust and something colder — something like warning.
She clutched her notebook to her chest as she walked through the gates, feeling every stare pierce her like a needle.
Some students whispered.
Some pointed.
Some smirked.
A few looked at her with pity she did not want.
Amani kept her eyes on the ground, her footsteps quick but steady. She was not the same girl who had left a year ago — the girl whose tears had been loud and helpless. Now, her tears were silent and buried deep inside, like stones pressed under water.
She didn’t expect anyone to welcome her back.
She certainly didn’t expect kindness.
But the cruelty still stung.
“There she is.”
“She came back?”
“Is she not ashamed?”
“Ethan Kelvin is still here, but she has the nerve—”
She blocked out the rest.
Her grandmother had taught her how.
When life is loud with hatred, silence becomes a shield.
She walked toward her old classroom, but before she could take three steps, a group of boys pushed past her roughly. She stumbled, almost falling, but caught herself on the corridor railing.
Before she could straighten up, a new voice cut through the noise — deep, rough-edged, and impatient.
“Move. You’re in my way.”
Amani froze.
The hallway fell silent, as if everyone already knew better than to challenge the owner of that voice.
When she lifted her eyes, she saw him.
A tall boy.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair tied loosely at the back.
Eyes like storm clouds — cold, unreadable, and quietly dangerous.
He walked with the kind of confidence that didn’t ask permission.
Elias White.
She had heard his name whispered already. He was new — arriving only a week before she returned. According to rumors, he:
Had been expelled from two schools.
Had once broken a senior’s arm in a fight.
Had a temper that scared even teachers.
Came from a wealthy family that didn’t bother to discipline him.
And worst of all…
Had “killed someone” in his old neighborhood.
Amani didn’t know what to believe. People invented stories faster than they breathed.
But staring at him now, she understood one thing instantly:
This was not a boy people lied about.
This was a boy people feared because they saw something true.
A shadow that didn’t hide.
A storm that didn’t apologize.
Elias stepped closer, and the boys who shoved her melted away instantly.
Amani swallowed hard.
Her pulse thumped against her ribs.
He wasn’t looking at her like the others did — not with disgust, not with recognition, not with curiosity.
He looked at her as if she was simply another person blocking his path.
No judgment.
No pity.
Just… nothing.
Weirdly, that “nothing” felt like the first breath of relief she’d had all morning.
She stepped aside quickly.
“S-sorry,” she whispered, not trusting her voice.
But something unexpected happened.
He stopped.
Just stopped.
And looked at her fully for the first time.
His eyes flicked across her face — not slowly, not lingering, but searching. As if something about her caught his attention even though he didn’t want it to.
“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.
She blinked, startled.
“I—It’s nothing,” she murmured.
He frowned slightly. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Her breath hitched. No one in the past year had looked at her and seen anything beyond the whispers tied to her name. No one noticed when she was hurting. No one cared to look deeper.
But this boy she had never spoken to before… noticed.
Amani wasn’t sure if that made her feel exposed or safe.
Before she could reply, a teacher called his name sharply from the other end of the corridor.
“Elias! Move!”
He didn’t move. Not yet. His eyes remained locked on Amani for one more second.
A second long enough to say something wordlessly:
I see you.
Then he turned and walked off, leaving the hallway buzzing with whispers.
Amani stood frozen.
She had no idea her life had just shifted again.
---
The Reputation That Followed Him
In class, Amani took the last desk by the window. People kept their distance, leaving empty seats around her as if fear were contagious.
She was unpacking her books when two girls behind her started gossiping loudly — loud enough for her to hear.
“I heard Elias White was suspended twice for beating someone.”
“No, no — my cousin says he stabbed a boy with a broken bottle.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why else would he transfer so late in the year?”
Amani’s grip tightened on her pen.
Rumors.
Cruel, exaggerated rumors.
She knew how they worked — how they grew, how they destroyed lives, how they suffocated truth.
She didn’t know Elias, but she knew better than to believe the worst.
Still… there was something dangerous about him. Not violent — something deeper. Something like a wound hidden under armor.
The door opened sharply.
And Elias White walked in.
The class fell silent instantly.
He didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t acknowledge the staring. He sat down at the desk beside the window — the seat diagonally in front of Amani — and put his earbuds in.
But then…
His eyes flicked back.
Straight to her.
Just for a moment.
Her heart skipped.
He blinked and looked away, as if annoyed he’d looked at all.
Her cheeks warmed.
She looked down at her notebook.
She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her.
She didn’t want attention.
She just wanted a quiet life — but life never seemed to want the same thing.
---
A Collision of Worlds
During break, Amani tried to leave class before the crowd drowned her, but she was too slow. Students flooded the corridor.
A group of girls blocked her way — the same ones who used to laugh with her before the rumors a year ago.
“So you’re back,” one sneered. “Came for more trouble?”
Another added, “Be careful not to accuse someone again. Ethan Kelvin is still here.”
Amani felt the sting of the name.
It was always the name.
Her scar.
Her sin in their eyes.
She stepped back quietly. She didn’t argue. She didn’t defend herself. There was no point — truth did not survive in places built on reputation.
But then the girls suddenly fell into uneasy silence.
Their eyes widened.
A shadow fell behind Amani.
She turned—
Elias stood there.
Close.
Too close.
He hadn’t spoken, but his presence alone pushed the girls aside like invisible wind.
One of them stammered, “We—we weren’t talking to you.”
“Good,” Elias said coldly. “I wasn’t talking to you either.”
His eyes shifted to Amani.
“You going somewhere?”
Amani nodded slowly.
He jerked his chin toward the exit. “Move.”
It wasn’t an insult.
It wasn’t rude.
It was protective.
A strange, unfamiliar warmth filled her chest.
She followed him out of the corridor, her steps small and hesitant. When they reached the courtyard, Elias stopped under the shade of a mango tree and finally looked at her properly.
“You’re letting them walk all over you,” he said simply.
Her breath caught. “I don’t want trouble.”
He snorted softly. “Trouble finds you anyway.”
Amani lowered her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No,” Elias said, “but I can see things.”
She frowned. “Like what?”
He nodded toward her hands. “For example — you’re scared. But not of them. Of something older.”
Her heart froze.
How could he possibly know that?
His voice softened — just a fraction.
“Who hurt you?”
Her throat closed.
She looked away quickly.
“I—I don’t want to talk about it.”
For the first time, his expression shifted — not pity, not sympathy… something like respect.
“Then don’t,” he said quietly. “I don’t need your story.”
That confused her. “Then why ask?”
He shrugged. “Because I don’t like seeing you look at the ground like the world is better than you.”
Her breath trembled.
No one had ever said something like that to her.
Ever.
Before she could reply, the bell rang.
Elias turned to leave, then paused.
“Next time they corner you,” he said, “call me.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“Because I fight better than you.”
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t wait for her response.
He just walked off — leaving Amani with a strange feeling blooming in her chest:
Fear.
Curiosity.
Safety.
Danger.
Confusion.
Hope.
And something else she couldn’t name yet.
Elias White was a storm.
But for the first time in a long time…
Amani felt like storms could wash pain away, too.
- Writer
