*EDITING AND MAY CHANGE SOME PARTS*
Isabel viole is a straight A student and goes to the library often to study or do homework there.Its basically her second home.Despise Armani.
Armani Hanslé is also a straight A student but is belonged to a very r...
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History lesson, last lesson of the day. Armani was seated beside me. I didn't mind of course, we have talked about us before so technically we aren't 'enemies' anymore. So I should probably forget about what she did to me in elementary school, about spreading some rumours and always bullying me. "Isabel are you paying attention?" Mrs.Eliana asked. I finally came back to reality, "Yes of course, ma'am." I say, right when I thought I was safe, "Then answer this question Isabel," Mrs.Eliana said.
I looked at the screen and read the question. Just when I was about to say the answer, I felt a cold hand on my thigh. I looked over at Armani, a smirk plastered on her face. "Isabel we don't have all day so answer the question." Mrs.Eliana said "Yea Isabel, answer the question," Armani said. I looked at her annoyed, and right before the answer escape my mouth, I felt Armani's hand go higher and higher. She slipped her hand inside my pants, Armani looks at me and smirks. I raised up my hand, "Ma'am can I please go to the bathroom, I think I'm about to throw up." I said. "Alright fine, go ahead." fortunately enough Mrs.Eliana gave me the permission to do so.
"Fuck you Armani." I say before getting up and leaving. All she did was laugh lightly. Seems like her habits have yet to change. I went to the bathroom and washed my face, trying to get rid of what happened earlier. I got back after I feel freshened up. I sat back at my seat. "Why the fuck would you do that?" I whispered angrily at Armani. "It's fun teasing you." She admitted, with a serious face on. "I'll get back at you one day." I said confidently as one of Armani eyebrows rise. "Sure you will." Her tone not believing what I say.
9 months later
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The hospital room is buzzing with activity, a mix of quiet voices and the soft beeping of monitors. The sterile smell of the room is mixed with faint scent of antiseptic, and the lighting is dim, trying to provide a sense of calm in the otherwise intense atmosphere.
Isabel is lying in the bed, her grip tight on my hand, her breathing quick and shallow between contractions. Sweat beads on her forehead, and her face twists in pain as another wave hits. I watch her, feeling both helpless and in awe of her strength. It's hard to believe this is happening— this is the moment I've been waiting for, yet it's also overwhelming.
