Chapter 19 CHAPTER 19
Vivienne’s POV
The final bell rang, and I was out of my seat before the sound had even finished echoing through the classroom.
I couldn’t stay there another second. Not with everyone staring at me. Not with the whispers following me everywhere I went.
All day. All day it had been like this.
People I had never spoken to suddenly knew my name. Girls who had never looked at me twice were glaring as if I had personally wronged them. Guys were staring at me in ways that made my skin crawl.
And the whispers. God, the whispers were the worst.
“Did you see them in the cafeteria?”
“Rafael kissed her. Like, actually kissed her.”
“What does he even see in her?”
“Poor Jessica.”
“I heard she’s been sleeping with him behind Jessica’s back.”
That last one had made me want to throw up.
I shoved my books into my bag and bolted for the door, keeping my head down, trying to make myself as small as possible.
It didn’t work.
“There she is,” someone said as I passed.
“That’s the girl Rafael—”
“Can’t believe he chose her over Jessica.”
I walked faster, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
The hallway was packed with students heading for their lockers, and every single one of them seemed to turn and look at me as I passed. Phones came out. More whispers.
I was used to being invisible. Used to walking through these halls without anyone noticing I existed. I liked being invisible. It was safe. Comfortable.
This—being the center of attention, having everyone’s eyes on me—was a nightmare.
“Hey, Vivienne!” someone called out, and I flinched.
I didn’t turn around. I just kept walking, faster now, nearly running.
“Vivienne, wait up!”
No. No, no, no. I needed to get out of here. Needed to get home and hide under my blankets and pretend this entire day had never happened.
I turned the corner toward the exit, and that’s when I heard it.
“I still don’t get what Rafael sees in her. She’s so plain.”
“Right? Like, Jessica is literally perfect. And he dumped her for that?”
Tears burned hot behind my eyes. I bit my lip hard, trying to keep them back.
Almost there. Just a few more feet to the door and I would be outside. Away from all of this.
A hand suddenly grabbed my arm.
I jerked back instinctively, panic flooding through me. “No, please—”
“Vivi, it’s me!”
Emma.
I blinked through my tears and saw her standing there, her face creased with concern.
“Em,” I choked out.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She pulled me closer, her arm wrapping around my shoulders protectively. “I’ve got you.”
Behind us, the whispers continued. I could feel eyes on us, could hear the clicks of phones capturing pictures.
Emma’s expression darkened. She turned around, still keeping me close, and faced the crowd that had gathered.
“What are you all looking at?” Her voice cut through the noise like a knife.
The hallway went quiet.
“Seriously,” Emma continued, her voice rising. “You have nothing better to do than stand around gossiping like a bunch of middle schoolers?”
Someone in the back snickered.
Emma’s eyes zeroed in on them. “You think this is funny? You think making someone feel like garbage is entertaining?”
“We’re just—” a girl started.
“Just what? Being jerks?” Emma took a step forward, and several people actually backed up. “Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re being jerks to someone who’s done absolutely nothing to you.”
“But Rafael—” another voice started.
“Is my brother,” Emma snapped. “And what he does is none of your business. What happens between him and Vivienne is none of your business. So how about you take your phones, your stupid opinions, and your judgmental stares, and leave before I get physical.”
The threat hung in the air.
No one moved.
“I said go!” Emma’s voice boomed through the hallway.
That did it. People scattered, muttering under their breaths but moving away. Within seconds, the crowd had dispersed, leaving only Emma and me standing there.
Emma turned back to me, her expression softening. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, the tears finally spilling over. “No. I’m really not.”
“Come on.” She grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the exit. “Let’s get you out of here.”
We pushed through the doors and stepped outside into the cool air. I sucked in a breath, trying to steady myself, but the tears kept coming.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “Everyone’s staring at me. Everyone’s talking about me. I’m not built for this kind of attention.”
“I know.” She squeezed my hand. “But it’ll die down. Give it a few days and something else will happen, and everyone will forget.”
“A few days?” I let out a bitter laugh. “This is going to follow me for the rest of the year. Everyone thinks I’m some kind of homewrecker or something.”
“You’re not a homewrecker. Jessica is a psycho who got what she deserved, and my brother finally came to his senses.”
“By kissing me in front of everyone?” My voice cracked. “Why would he do that? Why would he make me the center of all this drama?”
Emma was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. But knowing Rafael, he had his reasons.”
“Well, his reasons are ruining my life,” I said, wiping my face. “I just want to go back to being invisible. To nobody caring what I do or who I talk to. This is torture.”
Emma pulled me into a hug, and I buried my face in her shoulder, finally letting myself cry properly.
“It’s going to be okay,” she murmured. “I promise, Vivi. We’ll figure this out.”
Emma kept her arm around me as we walked away from the school, shielding me from any lingering stares. My face felt hot and puffy from crying, and I kept my head down, not wanting to look at anyone.
“Come on,” she said, pulling out her phone. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Em, I should just go home—”
“No. Not happening.” She was already tapping on her screen. “You’re not going home to sit alone and spiral. I know you. That’s exactly what you’ll do.”
She was right.
Within minutes, a cab pulled up to the curb. Emma opened the door and practically pushed me inside.
“Where are we going?” I asked as she slid in beside me.
“You’ll see.” She gave the driver an address I didn’t recognize.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the school disappear behind us. My phone was still buzzing in my pocket—notifications I was too scared to check. Probably more people talking about me. More pictures. More judgment.
“Stop thinking about it,” Emma said, as if she could read my mind.
“I can’t help it.”
“Yes, you can. Look at me.” She waited until I did. “Whatever’s happening on social media right now doesn’t matter. Those people don’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay.”
“But I’m not okay. Everyone thinks I’m—”
“Everyone thinks a lot of stupid things. That doesn’t make them true.” She squeezed my hand. “We’re going to get you your favorite snacks, you’re going to eat until you feel better, and then we’ll figure out how to handle all this. Together.”
The cab pulled up in front of a small café I had only been to once before—the one that made the amazing chocolate croissants and the fancy hot chocolate with real whipped cream.
My eyes widened. “Emma, no. This place is expensive. I can’t—”
“Don’t even start.” She was already climbing out of the cab, pulling me with her.
“But I don’t have money for—”
“Vivienne Chen, if you finish that sentence, I will drag you inside by your hair.” She turned to me with her hands on her hips. “You are not paying for anything. I’m treating you because you’re my best friend and you’ve had the worst day ever. So stop talking and let me be nice to you.”
My throat tightened. “Emma—”
“I mean it. Not a word.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee hit me immediately, warm and comforting. The café was cozy—small wooden tables, soft lighting, and hardly anyone inside since it was still early afternoon.
Emma marched straight to the counter.
“We’ll have two chocolate croissants, two raspberry danishes, a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, and…” She glanced at me. “What else do you want?”
“Em, that’s already too much—”
“What else.”
I bit my lip, looking at the display case. A slice of strawberry cheesecake looked incredible, but I didn’t want to ask for more.
“The cheesecake,” Emma told the girl behind the counter. “And those small cookies. The ones with the chocolate chips.”
“Emma!” I hissed.
She ignored me completely, pulling out her card to pay.
Once everything was ordered, she guided me to a corner table by the window and pushed me into a chair.
“Sit. Eat. No arguments.”
The food arrived shortly after, and Emma arranged it all like a feast. The chocolate croissant was still warm, steam rising from its flaky layers. The hot chocolate had a mountain of whipped cream with chocolate shavings.
“I can’t eat all this,” I said quietly.
“Then I’ll help. But you’re eating first.” She pushed the croissant toward me. “Go on.”
I picked it up hesitantly. The first bite was heavenly—buttery, warm, and sweet. Before I knew it, I had eaten half.
Emma smiled, sipping her drink. “See? Food makes everything better.”
“Not everything,” I mumbled.
“Most things, then.”
I reached for the hot chocolate next. The sweetness, the warmth, and the richness eased something tight in my chest. Just a little.
Emma didn’t push me to talk. She didn’t ask questions. She just sat with me, occasionally stealing a bite of the danish, letting me exist without pressure.
By the time I had finished the croissant and made a good dent in the cheesecake, I realized the tears had stopped. My breathing was steady. The knot in my stomach had loosened.
“Better?” Emma asked softly.
I nodded, unable to speak.