The following Monday started like any other — the cafeteria full of chatter, the hallways buzzing, students half-awake and gripping coffee cups like lifelines. But for Michelle, something felt... off.
It wasn't until she sat down in her first lecture that her phone started buzzing — once, then again, and again. Notifications from Instagram, DMs, and even messages from people she barely knew.
She tapped the screen.
Her stomach dropped.
There, floating in her notifications, was a photo — a photo of her and Steve kissing behind the dormitory building at night. The caption read:
"Guess the quiet ones always have a secret #notsoinnocent"
Michelle froze.
Someone had followed them. Someone had taken that moment — one of the most personal, intimate moments of her life — and turned it into a joke.
Whispers began almost immediately around the lecture hall. A few people turned and looked at her. Someone giggled. Her cheeks burned.
She could barely focus on the rest of class. Her hands were clammy. Her throat tight. As soon as the lecture ended, she grabbed her things and bolted out the door.
In the hallway, she bumped straight into Lila.
"Michelle—hey, I just saw it," Lila said, wrapping her in a protective hug. "I swear we'll figure out who posted it. You okay?"
Michelle didn't answer. She felt exposed. Violated. Hurt.
And worst of all — she didn't know if Steve had seen it yet.
Just as she pulled out her phone again, a familiar voice behind her said, "Michelle."
She turned.
Steve looked serious. Calm, but his jaw was tight.
"I saw it," he said.
Her heart thudded.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I don't know who—"
He shook his head and stepped closer. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But they're saying things, Steve. About me. About us. Like we were hiding something shameful."
"We were hiding," he admitted. "And maybe that was a mistake."
Michelle blinked, confused.
Steve glanced around — students were watching. Still whispering. He didn't care.
He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.
And then — in full view of the hallway — he kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't for show. It was simple. Clear.
When they pulled apart, the noise around them had shifted. From whispers to gasps. From taunts to stunned silence.
Steve looked at her with quiet conviction.
"They wanted to expose something," he said. "So let's stop hiding."
Tears stung in Michelle's eyes — this time not from shame or fear, but from pride. From the strength he gave her.
By lunch, the photo had been removed. Someone had anonymously reported the account, and the dean had launched an investigation into student harassment.
But none of that mattered as much as the moment in that hallway — when Steve chose her, out loud, in front of everyone.
That was the moment the rumors lost their power.
Because they weren't a secret anymore.
They were something real.
Something stronger than gossip.