Chapter 8 Chapter 8
The morning after the video spread, I woke with a tight ache behind my eyes. I had cried myself into a kind of exhaustion that did not feel like rest. My pillow was still damp. The sky outside the window was gray. Even the air inside my aunt’s house felt heavier than the night before.
My phone buzzed with nonstop notifications. I placed it under my pillow to muffle the sound. I did not want to read anything. I already knew what it would say. People had a remarkable talent for cruelty when they believed they were speaking into a void.
My aunt knocked softly. “Lenora, honey, breakfast.”
I forced myself out of bed and into clean clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy. My hair was tangled. I looked like a girl who had been fighting a storm she never wanted to enter.
I followed her to the kitchen where oatmeal steamed gently on the table. She gave me a sad smile, the kind that tried to offer comfort without prying. I appreciated it more than she knew.
“You do not have to go anywhere today,” she said. “Stay in. Rest.”
“I have to go to campus,” I said quietly.
She frowned. “Are you sure.”
“I need to stop hiding. If I hide, it will be worse.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “At least take an umbrella. It looks like rain.”
Rain felt fitting.
The campus looked different today. Colder. Sharper. People paused when they saw me walking across the quad, and the looks they gave were a little more intense than yesterday. My heart thudded hard, but I kept walking. Steady. Controlled. If I ran, they would smell blood.
A couple of girls near the fountain turned to each other and whispered loudly.
“I cannot believe she is still showing her face.”
“She must like the attention.”
“Poor Lilibeth.”
I clenched my jaw but did not respond. Their voices followed me all the way to the cafeteria doors.
Inside, the air was warmer, but the tension clung to me. Students sat around tables, talking, laughing, eating. Then someone noticed me. Silence rippled outward in slow waves.
A familiar voice broke through it.
“Lenora.”
Tessa waved from a table near the window. Relief washed through me and I went to sit with her. She already had a coffee waiting for me.
“You look like you barely slept,” she said.
“I did not.”
“I figured.”
Her eyes drifted toward a group in the corner where a cluster of students had turned their chairs to face me shamelessly.
Tessa leaned in. “Ignore them. You did nothing they would not do themselves if Kylen looked at them twice.”
I gave a weak smile. “That is not helping.”
“That was my attempt at support,” she said. “I will try again later.”
Just then, the cafeteria doors swung open.
Lilibeth walked in.
The room shifted instantly. Heads turned. Conversations halted. She wore a fitted white coat and carried herself with the confidence of someone who never doubted she was the center of attention.
Her eyes found me almost immediately. Something icy flickered across her expression.
She started walking straight toward our table.
Tessa stiffened. “Here we go.”
Lilibeth stopped in front of us. Her painted lips curled into something that resembled a smile but held no warmth.
“Good morning, dear sister,” she said.
The mocking tone stung. Tessa looked ready to leap out of her seat and throw hands.
“Lilibeth,” I said quietly.
“You know,” she began, tapping her manicured nail on the table, “I have been thinking a lot about forgiveness. About grace. About how sometimes people make mistakes.”
My stomach dropped. The performance had begun.
“And then,” she continued sweetly, “I thought of you. And I remembered that some people make choices. Not mistakes.”
A few students snickered nearby.
Tessa stood. “Lilibeth, leave.”
Lilibeth’s gaze flicked to her. “This is a family conversation.”
“No,” Tessa snapped, “this is harassment.”
Lilibeth ignored her and looked at me again.
“I saw the video. We all did. I hope you got what you wanted. Attention. Sympathy. Kylen chasing after you like a lost puppy.”
Pain shot through me.
“You should stop,” I said quietly.
“You already took more than enough from me,” she replied. “I think I deserve my moment.”
Then she leaned in closer, lowering her voice.
“You think he will choose you forever. You think you matter more than two years of his life with me. You are a moment for him. A distraction. When this dies down, he will regret everything.”