By the next morning, the whispers had begun.
Maria could feel the shift in the air the moment she stepped into the hallway. Students glanced her way, some with curious smirks, others whispering behind cupped hands. She didn’t need anyone to spell it out—Emeka’s playful jab yesterday had found its way into the rumor mill, faster than wildfire.
Her palms grew clammy as she clutched her books tighter. This is exactly what I didn’t want, she thought bitterly. She could survive her own confusion, but the stares, the gossip, the murmurs? They cut deeper than she expected.
Then she saw him.
Daniel was leaning lazily against the lockers, as if the world had no power to touch him. But the second his eyes found hers, his smirk softened into something different—gentle, almost reassuring. Like he was silently telling her: Ignore them. Just look at me.
That was the problem. She couldn’t ignore him.
“Maria,” he called, stepping toward her. His tone was calm, unbothered by the curious eyes tracking every move. “Don’t listen to them. They’ll talk today and move on tomorrow.”
She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have a reputation to lose.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, in a voice lower than anyone else could hear, he murmured, “I don’t care what they say. The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, Mr. Tunde appeared, clapping his hands as he called students into Literature class. Relief rushed through her as she hurried past Daniel, escaping the heat of his gaze. But deep inside, she knew she wasn’t running from him. She was running from herself—from the feelings she could no longer deny.
And as she entered the classroom, the whispers followed her in, growing louder with every step