Scene: The Silence After the Storm
When Maria stepped into the classroom, the atmosphere turned cold.
Silence.
Not a whisper. Not a breath out of place. Only the quiet sound of her shoes clicking against the floor, echoing like a countdown. One by one, students glanced at her—some pretending not to care, others too stunned to look away.
Some wondered, Why did James and the others apologize to her?
Others asked themselves, Is this the same Maria whose song downloads just hit 20 million overnight?
Maria sat down without saying a word, back straight, face calm, as though none of it mattered. As though she wasn't the center of every whisper and every headline.
Then the classroom door opened.
The head teacher entered.
"Clap for yourselves," he said with a tone laced in sharp sarcasm. "This is the first class in school history to have students both expelled and suspended for bullying."
A couple students twitched in their seats.
"And why?" His voice rose. "Because one girl stood up for the truth—and you all tried to silence her. You mocked her. Shamed her. Even ran from your punishments like cowards. Should I have been nicer to you all?" His eyes scanned the room with fire.
Dead silence.
"For those who didn't show up when you were supposed to face consequences—you just earned yourselves a two-day suspension, complete mark deduction, and yes, that means you're now in academic debt to the school."
The sound of stifled gasps and panicked heartbeats filled the air.
"And don't even try to argue," he added coldly. "These punishments were approved by the student president, and I fully support them."
He dropped a file on the table with a thud.
"But I'm not finished."
He began pacing, slow and heavy. "Class 12—you'll all be sent to training camp. When you return, congratulations: you're doing Class 3 work, tripled."
Groans echoed.
"For those of you who escaped expulsion due to your family's 'influence'—don't think for a second you got off easy. Your punishment? Multiplied tenfold."
His voice turned chilling.
"You'll run around this school three full laps every week until graduation. And when camp ends, you'll return as the school's new cleaning team. Your academic workload? Doubled. Phones and electronics? Gone. Every free period? Now spent in detention study class. That way, your teachers can focus directly on all of you."
A few students looked like they were on the verge of tears. Ivy sat pale and stiff, her fingers tightening against her skirt.
"And Ivy," the teacher added sharply. "Don't forget your punishment from the school disciplinary committee—for spreading lies and defaming Maria's name. You'll serve it. All of it. Crying won't change that."
He let out a slow sigh and faced the class one last time.
"We're all human—rich or poor, strong or weak, scholarship or transfer, popular or not. But as students in this class, you are supposed to be one. United. Not enemies. Not this shameful mess."
With that, he turned and walked out, the door slamming behind him with finality.
The class broke down.
Some students cried softly. Others sat frozen. A few turned and shot blame-filled stares at James and Kira. One voice whispered bitterly, "If Kira hadn't opened her mouth…"
Another growled, "James dragged us all into this."
Ivy stared at the floor, pale and trembling.
And Maria?
She sat there, her face calm and unreadable.
Like a queen who'd long stopped caring what her court thought—because she already owned the throne.
---
During break time, Maria's phone buzzed sharply in her pocket. She glanced at the screen — a familiar number. Ah, she thought, so now they come crawling back.
The same brand company that once dismissed her like she was some amateur trying to ride a trend now wanted her attention? Maria's lips curled into a mocking smirk. Do they think it'll be that easy?
She leaned lazily against the wall, tilting her head as she answered.
"Hello, this is Maria speaking."
"Ah! Miss Maria, we sincerely apologize. It seems there was a… misunderstanding last time. Our assistant who contacted you was new — completely inexperienced. He wasn't aware of your... potential. We'd like to fix that error and offer you a few benefits—"
Maria let out a short, mocking laugh. "Benefits?" She echoed, voice silky and cold. "You mean a few seconds more screen time and a gift basket with expired snacks?"
She shifted her weight to one leg, her nails tapping against her phone.
"Let's not pretend. Right now, I'm your golden ticket. You're at a breaking point, trying to stay afloat while your rival is snatching headlines. I'm the magnet. I bring the storm — and eyes follow storms."
The line went quiet for a moment, and then the manager's voice returned, a little tighter. "What exactly are you asking for?"
Maria's eyes glittered. "Triple the amount you originally offered. My face on the front page. Creative control over my shoot. And a proper apology — printed, not whispered."
"What? Why don't you just rob a bank while you're at it?" he barked, clearly losing his patience.
Maria didn't even flinch. "Then I guess we're done here. I'm sure your competitor will be more than happy to feature me. Their director already sent flowers last week."
"Wait—! Okay, okay. We'll… consider it. We'll get back to you."
"Consider it fast," Maria said coolly. "You have one day. After that, I'll consider other offers. There are more experienced brands out there — but they'll ask for more than I just did. Your move."
Then, without waiting for a reply, she hung up.
That brand might be famous in the future, she thought, slipping her phone into her pocket, but not yet. I'll use the opportunity now — before they realize how desperate they are.
She turned, intending to head back to class — and froze.
Mike was leaning against the stone pillar across the hallway, a cigarette resting between his lips, arms folded casually, his dark eyes fixed solely on her. She could see herself reflected in them — amused, dangerous, radiant.
How long has he been standing there? she wondered.
She tried to walk past him.
"I love this new you," he said, pushing off the pillar with deliberate grace. "So I won't beat around the bush I know you can sense what I want."
He walked toward her, gaze like a flame. "I love you."
His voice was steady, low, and threaded with a strange kind of tenderness that twisted something in her chest.
Maria's expression didn't falter. "I don't love you. I don't want a relationship. So do yourself a favor — move on. Find someone who matches your status, your attitude, and your lifestyle."
The hallway went quiet — thick with tension, with something crackling and unnamed.
She turned to leave — again — but this time, his hand caught her wrist.
"Too boring," Mike murmured from behind, his voice soft as velvet but heavy with danger. "I don't want someone from my status."
She spun around — only to be met with his body pinning her to the wall. One hand planted firmly above her head, the other curling around her waist. His knee slid between hers, blocking her escape.
"I don't want someone to match my personality either," he said, stepping even closer. "Opposites attract."
His breath was warm against her skin. His lips hovered close to her ear. "And someone who loves me exactly the way I want?" he chuckled darkly. "Where's the thrill in that? That's too… predictable. Too safe."
She opened her mouth to respond — but he silenced her with his hand gently covering her lips.
"I want someone reckless," he whispered, eyes locked onto hers. "Someone who drives me mad, makes me question my own sanity. Someone whose chaos burns hotter than any calm I've ever known."
His hand slid to her jaw, brushing her hair behind her ear in a movement so tender it made her heart skip.
"If you want to burn the world," he whispered, lips grazing her temple, "I'll give you the matches."
Then his breath dropped to her neck, slow, warm. She shivered.
"If you want to climb to the top," he murmured, "I'll hold the ladder. And anyone who tries to pull you down — I'll cut them off, one by one."
He drew her into his chest, hand flat against her back, possessive, commanding.
"I want you. Only you. No matter what."
"And if anyone else dares to look at you like I do?" His voice dipped darker, hungrier. "I'll rip out their hearts and deliver them to you — wrapped in gold."
Her breath caught in her throat.
Then he smiled — slow and intoxicating. "Only you can match my crazy. And only I… can survive yours."
And before she could react, his lips crushed hers.
It was no soft kiss. It was claiming. Slow at first — like a promise, like sin drawn out with a silver spoon. But as her fingers pressed against his chest to push him away, his hand moved to her jaw, deepening the kiss until her thoughts melted into starlight. Her resistance trembled, her hand frozen — not pushing, not pulling. Lost. Her mind spun. Her lips betrayed her — parting slightly under his, inviting more even as her heart screamed confusion.
She was dizzy, breathless — not from the kiss alone but from the fire pooling in her veins.
From a distance, someone watched.
Ivy.
She had gone out to make a call, only to witness the entire scene unravel like a horror film just for her. Her fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles went white. Her whole body shook — with fury, with betrayal, with humiliation.
A cracked, strangled sound slipped from her throat.
She stared at Maria like she wanted to set her on fire with nothing but her gaze.
Maria, suddenly feeling the heavy weight of someone watching, broke the kiss — eyes fluttering open in a daze. She tapped Mike's chest, trying to regain control of her breath, her pride, her everything.
But Mike only smiled, eyes full of glittering mischief. He leaned in again, close enough to feel her warmth, and bit her lower lip — slow, teasing.
Then he stuck out his tongue, giving a playful lick to where he bit, his expression as innocent as a devil in disguise.
Maria opened her mouth to scold him—
But his phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Mike sighed with annoyance, finally pulling away. He took out his phone, his mood shifting sharply.
Maria took that chance to bolt.
He watched her retreat with a low chuckle, leaning back against the wall as he raised his hand to blow a kiss her way. But as he finally answered the call, his entire face changed — that warm mischief replaced by icy indifference.
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