Love Admits Deceit

Breaking The Silence

        Emma hurried to the restroom, her hands shaking as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cold, sterile space felt like a refuge from the prying eyes and cruel laughter that filled the hallways. She stood in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her—pale, trembling, and on the verge of tears. Her hair, which she had used to cover the bruise on her forehead, now hung loosely around her face, strands sticking to her skin.

She took a deep breath, fighting the lump in her throat. She couldn't let them see her cry. Not now, not ever. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to wipe the grime from her shirt and fix the disarray left by the prank. The humiliation still clung to her, heavy and suffocating. She blinked quickly, willing the tears to stay back.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind her made her freeze. Her heart pounded as she looked up, catching sight of someone in the reflection. It was him—the quiet one from Ethan’s group. He stood just inside the restroom doorway, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, they just stared at each other through the mirror, neither saying a word. Emma’s pulse quickened, unsure of what to expect. Was he here to mock her too? To finish what Ethan had started? But then, something unexpected happened.

He took a step closer. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and calm.

Emma didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t okay, but admitting that felt like a weakness she couldn’t afford. She glanced away, biting her lip, her fingers still gripping the edge of the sink as if it were her lifeline.

The guy moved closer, standing just beside her now. Gently, without saying a word, he reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was soft, careful, like he was handling something fragile. His fingers lingered for a moment, warm against her skin, and then he stepped back, giving her space.

Something about him felt familiar, but Emma couldn’t place it. She stared at him, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Do I know you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled then—a small, almost secretive smile that made something stir inside her. It wasn’t cruel or mocking like Ethan’s had been. It was different. Softer.

“Maybe,” he said, his tone light and teasing, as if they shared a memory she couldn’t quite reach. He didn’t answer her directly, though. Instead, he took a step back, still watching her with that same quiet intensity. “You used to be called ‘Little Star,’ didn’t you?”

The nickname hit her like a jolt, a distant memory flashing in her mind. "Little Star"—it was something her mom used to call her, something so personal, so buried in the past that hearing it now felt surreal. She stared at him, speechless, wondering how he could possibly know that.

Before she could ask, he gave her one last smile, then turned and walked out of the restroom, leaving her standing there, a thousand questions swirling in her mind.

Emma stood frozen, staring at the door long after he had left. Who was he? And why did something about him feel so achingly familiar? Her heart raced, not from fear or anger, but from something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

Ethan swaggered into the classroom, his head held high, feeling proud of what had happened earlier with Emma. He expected her to break, to come crawling back in defeat, just like everyone else who had ever crossed him. The whole school knew better than to challenge him, and he had no doubt Emma would be no different. His friends trailed behind him, laughing and joking, but Ethan’s mind was already focused on the next part of his plan.

He walked straight to Emma’s seat without hesitation and dropped himself into it, his legs sprawled out, his arms resting lazily on the desk. A smirk played on his lips as he imagined her reaction. His friends, ever the loyal followers, gathered around him. Other girls in the class tried to inch closer, seeking an opportunity to be near him, but a sharp glare from Brittany, the queen bee and leader of the cheerleaders, sent them scattering back.