Chapter 17
822 Words
The sun had barely risen when I stepped out of the hostel, bag slung over my shoulder. Jenny was still brushing her hair inside, so I figured I wait by the entrance.
I didn’t get the chance.
Mercy was standing there, arms crossed, expression cold enough to slice through skin.
Mercy stepped closer, her tone sharp and cutting. “Are you happy now?”
I frowned. “What?”
“My brother is lying in the infirmary because of your little drama with Jordan,” Mercy snapped.
I froze. “Your brother?”
“Arnold,” Mercy said, like it was obvious. “Ring a bell? The guy Jordan nearly broke last night?”
My stomach dropped.
“And what were you even doing at the male hostel at 2 a.m.?” Mercy’s lip curled. “You think the rules don’t apply to you? You think you’re special just because Jordan is….what, f*****g you, that makes you the slut he called you?”
My voice trembled but turned defensive. “I didn’t…this isn’t what you think…”
“Save it.” Mercy’s glare was ice cold. “Stay away from my brother. And if you really care about Jordan like everyone says, maybe stop letting him ruin his life over you.”
Then she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heart hammering against my ribs.
Jenny came out just in time to see my pale face. “Rue? What happened?”
But I was already walking fast toward the infirmary.
The infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic.
My heart thudded so loud.
And there he was Jordan sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped in thick white bandages, his chin bandaged.
“Jordan…” My voice cracked before I could stop it.
Jordan looked up, his face softening immediately when he saw me. “Mine.”
Tears blurred my vision as I stepped closer. “Why did you do this?”
Jordan shrugged slightly, calm, too calm. “Because he disrespected you.”
“This is insane!” I whispered fiercely. “You could get expelled! Do you even care about that?”
Jordan’s jaw flexed. “I care about you. And I’m not going to let anyone talk about you like that again. Ever.”
My chest tightened, equal parts fear and something dangerously close to love.
Jordan’s voice softened. “I’d do it again, Mine. I’d do worse if it means keeping you safe.”
I sank into the chair beside his bed, grabbing his uninjured hand without even thinking.
“You can’t keep fighting the whole school for me,” I said quietly.
Jordan tilted his head, studying me. “Then stop making me want to.”
The words hit harder than any punch. I stayed there longer than I planned, just holding his hand and brushing his hair away from his face as if I could fix everything with that small touch.
By noon, I and Jordan were called into the dean’s office.
The room was stiff with quiet authority.
“Jordan,” the dean said slowly, “this behavior is unacceptable.”
Jordan didn’t flinch. “I know.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of every eye in the room.
The dean glanced between us. “Because of both your fathers’ reputations, we are not escalating this to the board. But you Jordan are officially suspended from classes and hospital rounds for one week.”
My stomach dropped.
“And,” the dean continued, “effective immediately, no female student is allowed in the male hostel after curfew hours. Consider this a new standing rule for everyone.”
I felt guilt wash over me, not just for Jordan, but for every girl who would now be restricted because of what happened.
When we stepped out, I walked in silence. Jordan slipped his hand into mine casually, as if to tell me it didn’t matter.
But I could feel my chest tightening with every step.
By the next day, everyone on campus seemed to know.
Whispers followed me down every hallway:
“That’s her. The one Jordan fought for.”
“I heard he broke the guy’s nose.”
“Imagine being so obsessed you risk suspension…”
By lunch, someone had sent me a video clip of the fight. Jordan’s voice, low and dangerous, was captured just before the first punch:
> “Say it again. I dare you.”
I turned off my phone, face burning.
Jenny squeezed my shoulder. “Ignore them. They just wish someone would fight for them like that.”
But I couldn’t ignore it, I wasn’t used to being the center of attention, let alone scandal.
Late that evening, I sat under the big mango tree near the library, staring at my shoes.
My phone buzzed.
Jordan: Look up.
I looked, and there he was, leaning against a pillar, out of uniform, hands in his pockets.
- Writer
