By Wednesday, it had spread.
At first, it was just the occasional glance. A hushed conversation that stopped when Michelle walked into the room. But soon, the whispers became louder — more confident. Like poison seeping through the walls of the school.
"She only got him because she's easy."
"I heard she begged him to stay with her."
"I bet she made it all up just to get attention."
The words weren't shouted. They weren't written. But they lived in the smirks, in the long looks girls gave her in the hallway, and in the quiet that followed her wherever she went.
Lila slammed her locker shut after overhearing one particularly cruel comment in the restroom. "That's it. I'm done being quiet."
Michelle touched her arm. "Don't. That's what they want — a reaction."
"No, what they want is to feel powerful. And they're not." Lila's eyes were sharp. "We don't fight them by hiding."
Between Friends and Fear
Later that day, Michelle and Lila sat in their usual spot under the big tree near the campus courtyard. It was sunny, but Michelle felt cold inside.
"You think they'll stop?" Michelle asked.
Lila took a bite of her sandwich. "Only if we give them nothing to feed on. And even then, they'll find someone else."
"But why me?" Michelle's voice cracked slightly. "I didn't do anything to them."
"You existed. You were happy. That's enough for some people to hate you."
Michelle looked at her best friend. "You've been through this before, haven't you?"
Lila nodded. "Not exactly the same way, but yeah. When you shine, some people can't help but try to dim your light."
Michelle was quiet for a moment, then whispered, "It's working."
"No, it's not," Lila said fiercely. "Because you're still here. And you've got me."
A Rift in the Room
That night, Steve knocked on Michelle's door. She opened it, arms crossed.
"You heard, didn't you?" she asked before he could say anything.
He stepped inside slowly. "I did. And I was coming to see if you're okay."
Michelle looked away. "Do you believe them?"
Steve's expression changed, hurt flashing through his eyes. "No. God, no. Michelle… I know you. I know who you are."
"But they're trying to tear me down — and it's working," she said quietly. "And you get to walk through it without a scratch. Because you're… Steve. And I'm just the girl who dared to be with you."
He stepped closer. "Don't do that. Don't let them separate us."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Then say something. Don't let them keep calling me names and whispering lies while you stand there like it's not about you, too."
Steve's jaw clenched. "You're right. I should have said more. I just thought… being quiet would protect you."
"Well, it didn't."
There was a long silence.
Then, softly, Steve took her hands. "I'll fix this. Not by hiding. Not anymore."
A New Kind of Post
The next morning, a post went up on Steve's Instagram.
A picture of him and Michelle at the lake — the sunlight catching her hair, their fingers intertwined.
The caption read:"If you're going to whisper, make it true. This is the girl I chose. And I'd choose her again."
The reaction was instant. Dozens of comments. Some supportive. Some angry. Some just stunned.
But Michelle, reading it on her way to class, felt her shoulders drop — a breath she didn't know she was holding finally released.
Lila grinned when she saw the post. "Well damn. Prince Charming finally brought the sword."
Michelle laughed. "Yeah. And I think… maybe I can breathe again."