CHAPTER THREE – THE ROOM WITH NO WINDOWS
1581 Words
The announcement came on a dull Monday morning—the kind of morning where the campus lawn still carried rainwater, and the stone walkway glistened like it was polished by accident. Students dragged themselves into the main lecture hall, half-awake, half-annoyed that life demanded productivity before noon.
Bella slipped into her seat quietly, brushing back her loose curls and opening her notebook. She always came ten minutes early. She always sat in the middle row. She always kept a blue pen tucked behind her ear. Everything about Bella was structured, neat, disciplined.
And then there was Max.
Max strolled in exactly thirty minutes late, wearing his signature smirk and a black hoodie with the Voltori racing emblem on the back. The dean’s voice died mid-sentence. A few girls giggled. A couple of boys tried to mimic the swagger and failed.
Max didn’t even bother looking apologetic. He sat in the last row, tossed his bag aside, and tapped his pen on the desk like he ruled the entire university.
Bella didn’t even turn around—but her shoulders stiffened.
She noticed him.
He noticed that she noticed.
The dean cleared his throat as if trying to restart the lecture.
“Now that everyone is present…”
A few people snorted.
“…we’ll continue. I have an important announcement.”
Max stretched, bored. Bella sat straighter, always ready for something academic.
“The annual Charity Gala,” the dean said grandly, “will be held in ten days.”
A wave of chatter rippled across the hall. The Charity Gala was the university’s biggest event—rich donors, high-end sponsors, celebrities, media coverage, and endless opportunities.
Max hated it.
Bella adored it.
The dean raised a hand. “This year’s gala must be flawless. We’ll divide responsibilities among a selected group of students.”
Max already knew his name would be there. Being a Rivera automatically pushed him into the spotlight.
“And for sponsorship coordination,” the dean continued, glancing at the list in his hand, “Bella will take charge.”
Bella’s pen froze mid-stroke.
“And…” The dean sighed like the universe hated him. “…Max Voltori will supervise the execution of sponsorship materials.”
Bella turned rigid.
Max grinned.
Perfect.
One more chance to ruin her day.
The dean continued, oblivious to Max’s thoughts. “You two will share the same resource room for planning. Charts, documents, presentations—it’s all in there. Report progress daily.”
Bella’s eyes widened. She turned slightly, just enough for Max to catch her expression: disbelief mixed with dread.
He winked at her.
She quickly looked away.
The lecture dragged on, but Bella heard none of it. She kept replaying the dean’s words: the same room. Ten days. Sponsorships. Max.
Max, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, spinning his pen slowly. Sponsorships meant high-money partners. A single mistake could ruin the gala. Ruining Bella? Even easier.
He could almost taste the chaos.
⸻
THE RESOURCE ROOM INCIDENT
The room assigned to them was on the third floor, tucked away in the old Commerce Block. Hardly anyone came there anymore. The lights flickered, the windows were painted shut, and the air smelled faintly of dust and forgotten plans.
Bella went there after her shift in the library, still wearing her soft lavender cardigan and holding a folder of sponsorship drafts.
Max arrived late—again.
She was arranging chart papers on the wall when he pushed the door open with the confidence of a king invading a small country.
“Hey, Miss Charity Gala,” he said lazily.
“It’s Bella,” she corrected softly without looking at him.
He smirked. “I know. I just like the other one better.”
She inhaled slowly. “We need to finalize the brand categories today.”
“We,” Max repeated mockingly. “Cute.”
She ignored him, sliding another chart on the board.
He moved closer—not to help, but to mess with the alignment of the chart she’d placed perfectly. She fixed it again. He misaligned it again. She glared at him.
He grinned like a devil blessed with dimples.
But somehow, they finished the outline.
“Done,” Bella said, stepping back proudly.
Max tapped the door handle to leave.
It didn’t move.
He pushed again.
Nothing.
Bella blinked. “What…?”
Max frowned, twisting the knob harder.
Still nothing.
She walked closer, confusion turning into worry. “Maybe it’s stuck?”
Max rammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge.
Bella’s breathing changed—sharp, uneven, rising too quickly.
“Hey,” Max said, finally noticing her stiff posture. “Relax. It’s just jammed.”
But something in her eyes changed—like the light inside her suddenly flickered.
Her hands trembled.
“Bella?” he said, confused. “Why do you look like—”
“No… no… no…” she whispered, stepping backward.
Max had seen panic before—but this was different. Her eyes were unfocused, her breaths too fast, her chest rising wildly.
She was shaking.
“Bella—”
The lights flickered.
She stumbled backward, hitting the table. “I can’t—Max—I can’t—no—please—no—open it—open—”
She screamed.
Actually screamed.
Max froze for a second, stunned. Bella, the quiet nerd who never raised her voice, was crying, trembling, gasping for air like the walls were closing in.
“Shh—hey—hey—stop,” Max said quickly, grabbing her shoulders.
She flinched violently.
But Max didn’t let go. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she shook uncontrollably.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Bella, breathe. Look at me. It’s okay.”
“No—! Please—open the door—open it—” she sobbed into his chest.
He held her tighter.
“Nothing’s happening. You’re safe,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “Breathe, Bella. I’m right here.”
For a moment—just a moment—she gripped his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her alive.
Her tears soaked the front of his hoodie.
Max had no idea what to do.
He’d made girls cry before. Plenty. But this—this wasn’t the kind of crying he caused. This wasn’t anger or heartbreak.
This was fear.
Real fear.
And something strange hit him—something small but stinging. Something he didn’t expect to feel for Bella.
The door finally opened from the outside.
A janitor blinked at the sight: Bella in Max’s arms, shaking; Max holding her gently like she was fragile glass.
Bella pulled away instantly, wiping her tears, embarrassment flooding her face. She rushed past them without a word.
Max stood frozen.
For the first time in a long time, the great Max felt… unsettled.
⸻
THE NEXT DAY: THE HUMILIATION
The classroom buzzed with noise until the dean walked in.
“Bella. Max. My office. Now.”
Bella’s heart sank.
Max raised an eyebrow.
They followed the dean into his office—a small room cluttered with trophies and files. Bella clutched her folder nervously, still exhausted from yesterday’s panic attack.
The dean dropped a magazine on the table.
Bella’s eyes widened in horror.
It was an adult magazine. Explicit, bold, embarrassing.
Attached was her sponsorship email with this magazine as the file sent to a major sponsor.
“Care to explain?” the dean demanded.
Bella’s mouth fell open. “Sir—I—I didn’t send that. I sent the brochure file—”
“This is what they received,” he snapped. “And they are considering withdrawing.”
She shook her head hard. “No, sir, I swear—I don’t even have this—”
Max leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
Bella looked at him.
His expression was unreadable.
The dean slammed the magazine shut. “Bella, this is incompetence. Utter incompetence. You have no skills apart from being a nerd. Sponsorships require responsibility.” His tone was harsh. Too harsh.
Bella’s eyes filled with tears.
Max’s smirk twitched—just slightly.
Something stung his chest again.
Why did he feel… annoyed? Displeased? Angry?
The dean sighed. “You jeopardized the gala.”
Bella swallowed hard. “Sir… please… give me one more chance.”
Her voice cracked.
The dean’s expression softened a little. He rubbed his temple. “Fine. One more. Only because I may have been too harsh.”
Bella nodded gratefully, wiping her tears.
Max watched her carefully.
Her hurt… hurt him.
That irritated him even more.
After the meeting, Bella turned to leave. Max tried to approach her.
“Bella—”
She spun around, eyes blazing with hurt and humiliation.
“Don’t,” she snapped. Her voice was louder than he had ever heard it.
Max blinked.
“You might think I’m nothing like you,” she said, voice trembling but firm, “but I would never—never—do something like this to you.”
He opened his mouth.
She stepped back.
“I may be a nerd,” she whispered, “but I’m not cruel.”
And then she walked away—shoulders stiff, eyes red, heart broken.
Max stood there, silent.
For the first time in his life, words failed him.
For the first time in his life…
a girl walking away genuinely hurt him.
And it was Bella.
- Writer
