Diana’s POV
The plastic bench groaned beneath my weight as I settled into my usual spot, its surface smooth and cool against my palms, still smelling faintly of polished rubber and lingering chalk dust. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting golden bars across the dusty classroom floor. Around me, the low hum of conversation swelled like a tide, muffled by walls that had seen too many secrets.
I barely had time to uncap my pen when Eva dropped into the seat beside me like a thunderclap wrapped in confidence.
“Finally,” she exhaled, flipping her glossy hair over her shoulder, the scent of her citrus shampoo cutting through the stale classroom air. “Now that you’re not exiled, we can sit together again, like in the good old days. No more whispering from ten feet away like we’re
