Beyond The Rumors

Klara's POV The sound of the slap echoed across the cafeteria, silencing conversations one table at a time. For a second, I didn’t even feel it. I only heard it. I stood frozen as the girl in front of me breathed hard, her hand still suspended between us. Her name was Chloe, though we had never spoken a single word to each other. “You knew he had a girlfriend,” she spat. My cheek began to burn. “What?” She laughed bitterly. “Don’t act confused, Klara.” Around us, chairs scraped against the floor. Phones appeared, and people turned their seats, whispering my name. Of course they did, It was always my name. I stared at her, trying to keep my voice calm. “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about.” “Oh, you don’t?” She shoved her phone close to my face. “Then explain this.” I looked at the screen, and my stomach dropped. It was a picture of me standing outside the university library beside a boy named Daniel. His hand was resting on my waist, my face was turned toward him, and I was smiling. From that angle, it looked intimate. Too intimate. But I knew what had actually happened. “This isn’t what it looks like,” I said. “Of course it isn’t,” she scoffed. “You’re just the new Jesus, comforting him?” “Yes.” “By standing like that?” I looked at the photograph again. Daniel was from my biostatistics class. His mother had been hospitalized, and he had called me because he didn’t know who else to talk to. I hugged him. That was all. But someone had captured three seconds of it. And three seconds had become a story. “You don’t know what happened,” I said. “I know enough, Klara.” The girl stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ve always been like this. Always around somebody’s boyfriend because no guy thinks you’re worthy enough to date you.” A few people laughed. I looked around the cafeteria. Nobody looked uncomfortable. Nobody looked shocked. They were only watching enjoying it. The worst part wasn’t the slap anymore; it was the familiarity. I had seen this before. The looks, the whispers, the assumptions. People who had never spoken to me decided they knew me better than I knew myself. “I haven’t done anything to you,” I said quietly. “You’ve done enough to everyone else.” My fingers curled around the strap of my bag. “Then tell me what I have done.” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because she didn’t know. She had heard something, someone had told her something, and somehow, that had been enough. “Exactly,” I whispered. Her expression hardened. “You think you’re better than everyone.” I didn’t bother answering. I picked up my bag and walked. I didn’t run I refused to give them that. But by the time I pushed through the cafeteria doors, my eyes were burning. I made it halfway down the corridor before someone grabbed my wrist. I spun around, ready to fight, but it was Mathilda. My childhood best friend. “It’s me,” she said, her face furious. “What happened?” “She slapped me.” “I saw. Why?” “Apparently I’m sleeping with somebody else’s boyfriend.” Mathilda’s expression changed. “Daniel?” I nodded. “He wasn’t even her boyfriend. He was just upset. Then why does everyone believe this?” Mathilda didn’t answer immediately, and the silence hurt more than I expected. “Because they already had a story about you,” she finally said. I looked down at my phone. It was vibrating nonstop. Notifications, messages, mentions, tags. I didn’t open any of them. “What if I just leave?” I whispered. “Anywhere.” “People will talk, Klara. Who you listen to is what matters.” “But everyone thinks I’m a horrible person. It hurts, Tilda.” She pulled me into a hug. “I know, baby. I know. But I am here with you.” Knowing I had someone there for me didn’t make the pain go away, but it kept me grounded. When I eventually walked into my lecture hall, the room seemed to pause. There it was again… that awful knowing look. I sat down, my hands trembling. I opened my notebook, and a folded piece of paper landed beside it. I slowly opened it. "How many guys have you f****d this semester?" My face went hot. I crumpled it up, but someone behind me laughed. The lecturer walked in. “Good morning.” The class responded, but my mind was spinning. Who had taken that picture? Who had posted it? Why now? “Miss Addams?” I looked up, my mind blank. “Yes, sir?” “Would you please answer the question?” A few students laughed. Then, a quiet voice came from beside me. “Twenty four.” I looked sideways. A guy was sitting two seats away. He was tall with a calm expression and dark hair, looking as if nothing in the world could faze him. “Twenty four,” he repeated. The lecturer nodded. “Correct.” I exhaled. The guy smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.” When the class ended, I packed my things quickly, wanting to escape before anyone else could say anything. I had just reached the door when I heard his voice again. “Klara.” I turned. It was the guy from class. He was holding something my pen. “You dropped this.” I took it and turned to leave. “Please wait. I’m Raphael.” I hesitated. “Klara.” “I know,” he said. “Of course you do.” “I didn’t mean it like that.” His smile faded slightly. “I’ve heard your name.” “Everyone has. Please don’t talk to me. I don’t want further problems.” He frowned. “Why?” “Because apparently, I’m trouble.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “I don’t usually make decisions about people I’ve never met.” Before I could reply, a guy from his friend group approached. He looked at me, then at Raphael. “You’re talking to her?” “Yeah,” Raphael said. “You know who she is, right?” Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His friend shook his head. “Bro, seriously. You should listen to what people say about her.” I turned around before I could hear anything else, my cheeks burning. My phone vibrated. An unknown number popped up, and I opened the message. You should stop pretending. Another message appeared instantly. The next rumor won’t be so eas y to explain. I stared at the screen, my heart quickening. This wasn’t random gossip but instead a warning and someone had just decided to write my story.