𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒇 (𝑨𝑴𝑩𝑾)

43. Purple seats

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Liliana's Pov

"How could you?" His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. The weight of every pair of eyes in the hallway bore down on me. My voice finally found itself, shaky and weak. "I... I can explain, but not here. Please. Not in public."

His jaw tightened, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face before it vanished, replaced by something darker-colder. The Chan who had teased, laughed, and smiled was gone. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

"Why not here?" he hissed, his tone sharp enough to slice through me. "You didn't seem to care about being public when you were at the club. Or"-his eyes narrowed, calculating-"was it one of those private ones?"

My stomach churned, shame burning through me. "It's not something I'm comfortable talking about here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His laugh was harsh, humorless. "Comfortable? You're worried about your comfort now?" His voice rose, breaking the tense silence in the hallway. "Liliana, the entire world is going to see this soon! If they haven't already!"

The whispers started again, low murmurs and curious stares. My heart hammered in my chest as Chan's fury mounted. He turned back to the wall, his fingers curling around one of the photos.

"Tell me," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Is this you?" He ripped the picture from the wall, holding it up in front of me. His eyes, filled with anger and something that looked like desperation, searched mine. "Tell me it's not you. Please."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The crowd was still, their eyes glued to us, waiting for my response. I wanted to deny it, to tell him it wasn't me, but the words wouldn't come. All I could manage was a soft, broken, "I'm sorry."

Chan's hand trembled as he clutched the photo. "No," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was trying to convince himself. "No. You're lying. Tell me the truth. Is this you?"

I dropped my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. My shoulders sagged under the weight of my shame as I whispered, "Yes."

For a moment, everything stood still. The world held its breath as Chan stared at me, his face a storm of emotions-anger, betrayal, disappointment.

"Fuck!" he screamed, the sound echoing down the hallway. He tore the photo in half, then again, until the pieces fluttered to the ground like broken shards of glass.

He turned back to the wall, ripping photo after photo down, each one more forceful than the last. "Why?" he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "Why would you do this?"

"Chan, please, let me explain," I pleaded, stepping forward, but he pointed a trembling finger at me, his face flushed with fury.

"Don't," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Don't you dare try to justify this." He whirled back to the wall, tearing down more photos, the hallway filling with the sound of ripping paper.

"You had one job, Liliana," he said, his voice breaking as he threw the shredded remnants of a photo to the ground. "One. Job. And now this? This is what you do?"