STRONGER THAN YOU KNEW

Rain hammered the courtyard, as if it wanted to erase me. They circled, laughing, dumping eggs, dirty water, spit—calling me “scholarship pig,” “fat ghost,” “nobody.” Someone yanked my glasses off; another shoved me into the mud. Laughter exploded louder than thunder. I curled in on myself, burning—humiliated, invisible, broken. And then I was running. Soaked, shaking, desperate for home. *** The rain pounded against the pavement like it wanted to wash me away. I stood at our front door, drenched from the storm and from everything they’d thrown at me at school—dirty water, raw eggs, spit, and worse. My uniform clung heavy and cold, but inside I burned. The heat of humiliation refused to fade, no matter how hard the rain tried. That day hadn’t just broken me. It had lit a fire no rain could touch. Mom—Mrs. Sarah now, no longer Heyes after the divorce—sat at the dining table, eyes glued to her laptop. She didn’t even glance up. Life had been like this for a month. She never really saw me. Work was all that mattered. I closed the door behind me, the sound sharper than I meant. My heavy body ached as I walked toward her, glasses fogged and cracked, little bruises blooming on my elbow and knees, water trailing behind me like a sad shadow. My reflection caught in the glass door along the corridor—soggy uniform clinging, glasses steamed, cheeks flushed from crying—and for the first time, I truly hated the girl staring back. I stopped right in front of her. “Mom…” My voice shook. “Ele.” She said my nickname without looking away from the screen. Dad used to call me that too, back when we were still a family. Now it sounded automatic. Empty. “You’re back.” Still typing. “Your food is in your room.” That was her way of saying go away, don’t disturb me. I didn’t move. Water kept dripping. Tears mixed with the rain on my cheeks. “Mom, I don’t want to go back to that school. Please… let’s go back to Venas City. To Dad.” Her fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, she looked up. Only the mention of going back to Dad ever got her full attention. She hated the idea. Going back would mean admitting defeat. My father, Mr. Heyes, was one of the wealthiest men in the country, and Mom had spent the last month proving she could survive—and raise me—without him. Asking to return would make her look weak. Poor. A loser. That was the one thing she feared most. She stood up, finally noticing the state I was in. “Darling, why are you drenched? Where’s your umbrella? And why are you so dirty?” She reached out, touching my soggy sleeve, clearly trying to change the subject. “Mom, I can’t go back there,” I whispered, tears falling freely now. “I don’t want to go back to that school again.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Darling, let’s talk about this later. I have to send this document right now.” She gave me a quick smile and picked up her laptop. “Go wash up, eat something, and rest. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” She had been saying “we’ll talk later” for a whole month now. *** One month ago, everything had shattered. My parents’ fight had come out of nowhere—or at least it felt that way to me. The divorce happened fast. Mom insisted I come with her to Bess City. Dad wanted me to stay with him, but in the end he let me go because Mom said she would die without me. I chose Mom because I couldn’t bear to see her cry… even though every night I missed Dad’s quiet way of making me feel seen. Thanks to him—secretly—I got a scholarship to Unique High School, one of the best in the city. Mom was thrilled, thinking she had done it all on her own. She had no idea Dad had pulled strings. To prove she didn’t need him, she even made me use her father’s surname, Richard, instead of Heyes. On my first day, I was bursting with hope. Mom had ironed my uniform herself. She even made breakfast and drove me. For once, she felt like a real mom. Unique High School lived up to its name—grand buildings, manicured lawns, students who looked like they belonged in magazines. I wandered the halls, lost, my heavy body making every step feel awkward. That’s when I spotted a girl near the lockers. “Excuse me,” I said, breathing hard from rushing. “Do you know where Class 10 is?” She turned, smiling shyly. “I’m new here too.” She extended her hand. “I’m Isabel Felix.” “I’m Elena.” I shook it, and we both laughed a little. Relief flooded me. I had a friend already. Before we could say more, another girl ran up. “Isabel!” she called, then smiled at me. “Hi, I’m Grace.” We introduced ourselves quickly. “Come on, let’s get to class before the bell,” Grace said. As we walked, four luxury cars glided into the school compound like they owned it. They stopped right in front, and four figures stepped out—two boys and two stunning girls, each from their own car. They moved with effortless confidence, clothes perfect, auras screaming money. “Who are they?” Isabel whispered. Grace exhaled. “The wealthy ones. Oscar, Zena, Dora, Henry—the elite group. Just avoid them, okay? Focus on why you’re here.” But I couldn’t look away. One of the boys glanced in our direction. Tall, dark-haired, impossibly handsome. Something in his gaze made my stomach flip. “Don’t look at him,” Grace hissed. We quickly lowered our heads. After a moment, he looked away and headed inside. Even from a distance, his face stayed burned in my mind—sharp jaw, rich confidence. For a second, I felt… seen. “That’s Oscar Mike,” Grace said once he was gone. “One of the most popular guys here. And he’s in our class.” “Really?” Isabel’s eyes widened. We hurried after them. Grace gave us a quick tour of the halls before we slipped into the classroom. The teacher, Mrs. James, was already there. “Oh, the new intakes,” she said warmly. “Come introduce yourselves.” Grace slid into her seat. Isabel and I walked to the front. Isabel went first, calm and polished. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Isabel Felix. Nice to meet you all.” The class applauded lightly as she took her seat. Now it was my turn. My heart hammered. My body felt too big, too clumsy. I adjusted my glasses, throat dry. “G-good morning, everyone,” I stammered. “My name is Elena Richard. Nice to meet you all.” Mom’s rule: no Heyes. Nothing that reminds him he still has power over us. Instead of polite applause, a few snickers rippled through the room. Someone in the back muttered something I couldn’t catch. I forced a nervous laugh, cheeks burning. That was the day everything began. The root of everything. Because that afternoon, standing in front of the class with my too-tight uniform and fogged-up glasses, I caught Oscar Mike staring at me again. And for one stupid, hopeful second… I thought maybe the invisible girl had finally been seen. I had no idea he was already planning how to destroy me.