MARKED BY THE ENEMY

SHATTERED GLASS

Ashley’s POV

The morning light poured through my curtains, warm and golden, but I couldn’t shake the restless buzz that had kept me awake most of the night. My heart still wasn’t used to it—the memory of Devin’s lips pressed against mine, the way his hand had lingered against my cheek, the way he’d looked at me afterward like he’d just decided something monumental.

Even now, brushing my hair in front of the mirror, I caught myself smiling, then blushing furiously. Get it together, Ashley. It was just one kiss. One reckless, stolen kiss.

Except it hadn’t felt reckless at all. It had felt inevitable.

At school, whispers followed me the way shadows do. I knew people were still talking about the tutoring, the rumors of Devin and Kika, the way I’d been caught in the crossfire too many times. But today, those whispers sounded different—sharper, more curious. Because Devin walked into class beside me.

And when he pulled out my chair, murmuring a low, “Sit,” like it was the most natural thing in the world, the room froze. Kika was across the room, her eyes narrowing, her manicured nails tightening around her pen like she might snap it in half. I felt the weight of her glare sink into my skin, but Devin didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

The whole morning felt like a dream. He leaned over to lend me notes I hadn’t asked for. He reached casually across me for a textbook, his arm brushing mine, his scent—clean, sharp, something like cedar—curling around me until my chest ached with heat. Every little thing he did drew eyes, every glance at me fueled more whispers.

By the time recess came, I was a tangle of nerves. Lia squeezed my hand, whispering encouragement, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building. A storm waiting to break.

And it broke at lunch.

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Kika’s POV

Patience had never been one of my virtues. I was used to getting what I wanted—fast, clean, effortless. If not through charm, then through intimidation. If not through intimidation, then through the weight of my father’s influence.

But Devin was… different.

He’d always been untouchable, and I liked that. The chase. The mystery. The challenge. I’d tolerated his indifference because I believed it was only a matter of time before he realized someone like me—beautiful, admired, powerful—was the only logical choice.

But then she came along.

Ashley, with her quiet eyes and nervous hands. Ashley, with nothing remarkable about her except the way Devin suddenly seemed to gravitate toward her like she was some kind of gravity well. It made no sense. It made me furious.

And today, watching him pull out her chair, watching him laugh quietly at something she said, watching the gossip spread like wildfire through the cafeteria—I snapped.

I strode forward, heels clicking against the tile, my friends trailing behind me like a storm front. The crowd sensed something was coming; I could see their heads turning, their chatter dimming. Perfect. If Ashley thought she could steal my spotlight, I’d make sure she drowned in it.

I stopped right in front of their table. Devin didn’t even look up, which only fanned the flames l*****g at my chest.

“So this is what you’ve been reduced to?” I sneered, eyes flicking to Ashley. “Charity cases? Tutoring sessions with nobodies? She doesn’t deserve your time, Devin.”

Ashley stiffened, her knuckles whitening around her fork. I saw her lips part, probably to defend herself, but I cut her off.

“Enjoy playing second choice, Ashley,” I said loudly enough for the tables nearby to hear. “Because when he gets bored, and he will, you’ll be nothing but a footnote.”

Gasps. Murmurs. The air grew electric, every pair of eyes snapping between us. I felt power surge through me—this was my stage.

But then Devin looked up. And the storm I had conjured began to twist out of my control.

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Devin’s POV

I hadn’t planned on making a spectacle. I hated the way people at this school thrived on drama, feeding on it like piranhas. But when I heard Kika’s words—sharp, poisonous, aimed straight at Ashley’s chest—I knew I couldn’t stay silent.

My chair scraped against the floor as I stood, slow, deliberate. The chatter dimmed to silence. Every eye was on me now.

“Kika,” I said flatly.

She turned, lips curved in a confident smirk, as if she thought I’d finally acknowledge her in the way she’d always wanted.

But she had no idea what was coming.

“I don’t know what fantasy you’ve been living in,” I continued, my voice cutting through the silence, “but I’ve never wanted you. Not once. Not for a second.”

The smirk faltered. Whispers rippled like a current through the cafeteria.

“You’ve spread rumors. You’ve dragged Ashley into your games. You’ve tried to humiliate her, all because you couldn’t stand that someone else might have my attention.” I stepped closer, my voice firm, each word deliberate. “Here’s the truth: I don’t care what you want. I don’t care what your father can pay for, or how many people you scare into following you. I’m done letting you hang this idea of us over everyone’s head.”

Kika’s face drained of color, then flushed crimson. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The silence was deafening.

“And if it wasn’t clear enough,” I finished, my gaze flicking briefly to Ashley—softening just enough for anyone watching to notice—“I’d rather stand beside Ashley as just friends than ever stand beside you.”

The cafeteria erupted. Gasps, laughter, whispers so loud they were almost shouts. Kika’s hands shook at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. For the first time, she looked… small.

She turned on her heel and stormed out, her entourage scrambling after her, but not before I caught the venom in her glare. This wasn’t over.

I exhaled slowly. Then, without hesitation, I reached down and took Ashley’s hand.

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Ashley’s POV

The world blurred. My pulse hammered in my ears so loud I almost couldn’t hear the explosion of voices around us. His hand—warm, steady, calloused—wrapped around mine, and it was like the entire cafeteria didn’t exist.

He’d rejected her. Publicly. Brutally. And then chosen me—not as his girlfriend, not even as anything defined, but still… chosen.

My throat tightened, a dizzy mix of guilt and relief tangling inside me. I should have felt triumphant, but all I felt was the weight of every stare, every whisper. And his words—“just friends”—echoed like a hollow drum in my chest.

I managed to whisper, “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Devin looked at me then, his eyes steady, unreadable. And when he finally spoke, his voice was low, but firm.

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it because it’s the truth.”

My heart stuttered, then took flight.

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