FORBIDDEN STRANGER

ERIC’S ABSENCE

He avoids me on purpose.

I realize it the second time it happens — when our paths almost cross and then don’t. When he slows just enough to let someone else pass between us. When he chooses a longer route instead of the obvious one.

Careful. Intentional. Controlled.

I hate it.

Not because I need him near me, but because he’s decided something without including me. Again.

Bella clocks it too. She always does.

“Is he serious right now?” she mutters as we walk. “Because that was a maneuver.”

“He’s being professional,” I say.

“Mm,” she hums. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

I keep my gaze forward. My shoulders back. If anyone’s watching to see how I handle this, they’re not getting a reaction.

We stop near the vending machines. Bella pretends to debate between two snacks she never buys.

“He didn’t text you, did he,” she says quietly.

“No.”

“That’s annoying.”

“It’s strategic.”

She turns to me. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“I’m trying to understand him.”

“That’s worse,” she says. “Understanding makes people forgivable.”

I don’t respond.

Across the hall, Eric steps out of a room with two other people. He’s mid-conversation, serious, composed, the version of him everyone trusts instinctively. Someone says something that makes him smile — polite, restrained.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He looks up without meaning to.

Our eyes meet.

This time he doesn’t look away immediately.

There’s a pause — brief, loaded, unmistakable. No apology. No warmth. Just acknowledgment. Like we’re both aware of the same problem and refusing to name it.

Then someone says his name, and he turns back to them.

Dismissed.

My jaw tightens.

“That,” Bella says, following my gaze, “was cold.”

“It was necessary,” I reply.

“For him,” she says. “Not for you.”

I exhale slowly. “I don’t need him checking on me.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she agrees. “But it still would’ve been decent.”

We start walking again. Every step feels louder than it should.

I don’t chase him. I don’t linger where he might pass. If he wants distance, he can have it.

But distance doesn’t erase irritation.

It sharpens it.

Because what he’s doing isn’t restraint — it’s withdrawal. And withdrawal is its own kind of statement.

By the time we reach the stairs, I’ve made up my mind.

If he thinks silence makes this easier, he’s wrong.

If he thinks absence protects me, he’s wrong about that too.

Bella glances at me sideways. “You’re plotting.”

I keep moving, unbothered on the surface, recalibrating underneath.

If Eric Dusine wants to pretend nothing happened, he’s going to have to work harder than this.

Because I’m not invisible.

And I’m not something he gets to sidestep.

——

Bella does not do subtle when she’s angry.

She does quiet for about twelve minutes, which is how I know this is bad.

We’re halfway down the corridor when she stops so abruptly I nearly walk into her.

“Nope,” she says.

“What.”

She turns, scanning the room like she’s triangulating a target. “I just heard my name.”

“That happens,” I say carefully.

“Not like that.”

She locks eyes with a girl leaning against the counter near the windows. The girl looks away a second too late. Guilty.

Bella smiles.

Oh no.

“Bella,” I say. “Don’t.”

“I’m just going to ask a question,” she replies sweetly, already moving. “Questions are healthy.”

I follow, because leaving her unattended would be irresponsible.

The girl stiffens as Bella approaches. “Hey,” she says, voice light. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Bella says brightly. “You were just talking about us.”

The girl blinks. “I— no, I wasn’t.”

“You absolutely were,” Bella replies. “You said ‘her’ and then looked directly at my friend like she was a headline.”

I step in. “Bella.”

She waves me off without looking. “I’m being polite.”

The girl crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s interesting,” Bella says. “Because three people have used the exact same phrasing today, and none of them seem brave enough to finish their sentences.”

A couple nearby slow their conversation. Someone pretends to check their phone while very clearly listening.

The girl scoffs. “People are just curious.”

“About what,” Bella asks. “Be specific.”

Silence.

I can feel it now — the attention, the way the space tightens around us. This is how rumors breathe. This is how they grow legs.

“Bella,” I say quietly. “It’s fine.”

She turns to me, eyes flashing. “It’s not.”

Then back to the girl. “If you have something to say about Janyia, say it to her. Otherwise, stop using her name like it belongs to you.”

“I didn’t say anything bad,” the girl snaps.

“You implied,” Bella replies. “Which is worse. It lets everyone else do the dirty work.”

Someone behind us murmurs, “Damn.”

The girl’s face heats. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“No,” Bella says. “You are. By acting like speculation is harmless.”

I step forward this time, placing a hand lightly on Bella’s arm. “That’s enough.”

She looks at me, torn for half a second. Then she exhales and steps back.

“Fine,” she says. “But just so we’re clear — talking around someone doesn’t make you safer than talking to them.”

She turns away before the girl can respond.

As we walk off, I hear a whisper ripple behind us. Faster now. Sharper.

Bella mutters, “Worth it.”

“You just put gasoline on it,” I say under my breath.

She shrugs. “It was already on fire. I just made sure people knew you weren’t scared of it.”

I glance back once.

Eric stands at the far end of the hall, having clearly seen more than he wanted to. His expression is tight — not angry, not amused.

Concerned.

That does something to me.

He looks away first this time.

Bella follows my gaze and snorts. “Oh, now he’s watching.”

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, “if he thought staying silent would keep this contained, he just learned otherwise.”

We reach the doors.

I pause, hand on the handle, grounding myself. “You can’t fight every rumor.”

“I know,” Bella says. “But I can make people uncomfortable enough to think twice.”

I push the door open.

The air outside feels sharper. Cleaner.

“This isn’t over,” I say.

Bella grins. “Good.”

Because if people want a story, they’re about to learn one thing for sure.

I’m not the quiet part of it.

By the time we stop walking, my irritation has settled into something clearer.

Heavier.

Bella is still riding the adrenaline, arms folded, jaw set like she’s proud of herself. I let her have it — for about ten seconds.

“Next time,” I say, stopping short, “you don’t jump in unless I ask.”

She turns, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” I continue. “I know you were defending me. I appreciate that. But this”— I gesture vaguely behind us —“becomes uncontrollable if everyone thinks they’re allowed to speak for me.”

Bella blinks. Then scoffs. “Wow. Okay. Didn’t realize I was the problem.”

“You’re not,” I say. “But you’re not the solution either.”

That lands harder than I expect. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.

For once, she listens.

“So what,” she says finally. “You’re just going to let people talk?”

“No,” I reply. “I’m going to let them get bored.”

She tilts her head. “That’s… annoyingly smart.”

“I’m not explaining myself,” I say. “I’m not defending something that doesn’t need defending. And I’m definitely not reacting every time someone whispers.”

Bella studies me, then sighs. “You’re really doing this.”

“Yes.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. Then I’m on backup duty.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t start fires,” she says. “But if someone throws a match, I’ll step on it.”

I almost smile.

We start moving again. This time, my steps feel steadier.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

I stop.

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Him?”

I look at the screen.

Eric Dusine.

Just his name. No message preview yet. He’s typing.

I don’t open it right away.

Because this — this moment — matters.

If I answer now, it looks like reaction. Like retreat. Like I need him to define what happened.

I don’t.

The typing bubble disappears.

Then comes the message.

We need to talk. Not here.

I stare at it for a long second.

Bella leans in. “Well?”

“I’m not responding,” I say.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Damn.”

“He doesn’t get to pull me into a private conversation because things got uncomfortable publicly,” I continue. “If he wants distance, he can live with it.”

Bella nods slowly. “That’s a line.”

“Yes,” I say. “And I’m keeping it.”

I slip the phone back into my pocket without replying.

Whatever this is becoming, it’s not going to be on his terms alone.

And it’s definitely not going to happen in the shadows.

If people want to watch, let them.

I’m done shrinking to make things easier for everyone else.