It was lunch break.
The hallway was louder than usual – lockers slamming shut, bursts of laughter echoing down the corridor, the faint smell of cafeteria food drifting through the air.
I had just reached my locker when someone stepped in front of me.
Then another.
And another.
Three girls from my class.
They didn't say anything at first. They just stood there, blocking my way as if they had nowhere else to be.
I slowly closed my locker.
"Well," I muttered under my breath, "this looks welcoming."
The girl in the middle–Serena–tilted her head, a smile stretching across her face like she had been waiting for this moment all day.
"You think you're special?" she said loudly, just enough for the nearby students to hear.
A few heads turned.
Ah.
An audience.
"Special?" I repeated calmly. "For what?"
Serena's smile thinned.
"For gaining everyone's attention."
Everyone's.
I knew exactly what she meant.
Raymon.
One of the girls beside her scoffed and stepped closer.
"Stay away from Raymon if you can't treat him right."
For a moment, I just looked at them.
Then a quiet laugh slipped out of me.
Interesting.
If I had known that simply being around Raymon would bruise this many fragile egos… I might have treated him far worse.
Serena's expression hardened.
Before I could blink, she reached for my neck.
Her mistake.
My hand moved faster.
I caught her wrist mid-air and twisted it just enough to make her breath hitch.
Not enough to break it.
Just enough to remind her she wasn't in control.
The hallway suddenly felt quieter.
I leaned slightly closer, my voice dropping low enough that only she could hear.
"This is interesting."
Her body stiffened.
I released her wrist.
Without another word, I stepped past the three of them and walked down the hallway, leaving the locker room behind.
By the time school ended, the sky had already begun fading into a dull gray.
Students spilled out of the gates in loud clusters–laughing, complaining, making plans for the evening.
I walked past them without stopping.
The cold air brushed against my face as I made my way down the familiar streets toward home, my bag hanging loosely from my shoulder.
The scene from the locker hallway replayed briefly in my mind.
Serena's twisted wrist.
Her stunned expression.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
Interesting.
People were always so confident right up until the moment they realized they weren't in control.
By the time I reached our house, the street had grown quieter. The windows glowed faintly with the dim light of late afternoon.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The house was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet.
The heavy kind.
I slipped off my shoes near the door, the soft ticking of the wall clock echoing through the living room. The air felt thick, like something had already happened before I arrived.
Then I heard it.
Crying.
It came from my mom's room.
I already knew who it was.
I walked in slowly and found my mother sitting at the edge of the chair, her shoulders trembling, one hand pressed against her face as if she could hide the sound of it.
Tears slipped through her fingers.
For a moment, I simply watched her.
Then I walked over and stood beside her.
"Don't cry like a pathetic loser," I said quietly.
My voice wasn't loud.
But it cut through the room like glass.
She slowly lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes were red, swollen from crying, but something sharp flickered inside them.
"Do you really think I'm the loser, Lune?" she asked hoarsely.
A weak laugh escaped her.
"Everyone says Rayan lost me… that he's the loser."
I stared at her for a second.
Then I knelt down in front of her chair.
The movement made her pause.
Gently, I reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
"No, Mommy," I said softly.
"You're not just a loser."
My hand dropped back to my side.
"You're also a fool for believing them."
Her breath caught.
"Dad won," I continued calmly. "The powerful one always wins. The confident one walks away with the ending everyone else dreams about."
My gaze drifted across the room.
"And look at you."
My voice stayed level, almost thoughtful.
"Taking care of children who aren't even yours."
I tilted my head slightly.
"You really think that will melt his heart? That if you take care of his abandoned children long enough, he'll suddenly come back and see what a saint you are?"
The silence in the room thickened.
Then I looked back at her.
"At some point," I said quietly, "you have to admit the truth."
A faint smile touched my lips, but there was nothing warm about it.
"You didn't just ruin your own life."
My eyes met hers.
"You ruined mine too."
For a long moment neither of us spoke.
Then I stood up.
Without looking back, I walked down the hallway and pushed open my bedroom door.
My bag dropped onto the desk.
I pulled out my books, opened them, and flipped to the first page of tomorrow's material.
Outside my window, the evening sky was slowly darkening.
Inside the room, the only sound left was the quiet turning of pages as I began studying for tomorrow's test.
The morning sun was weak that day, casting a pale light over the school gates.
I walked in like any other day, bag slung over my shoulder, mind focused on nothing but the test I was supposed to take.
But the moment I reached the classroom, the teacher's expression stopped me cold.
"Lune," she said, voice tight, "you're… not allowed to sit for today's test."
My brow arched.
"Excuse me?"
"She said there's a complaint," another student whispered behind me. "Serena went to check the cameras… said you–"
I didn't even flinch.
Her accusation? Pointless. I had already shown her exactly what happened in the hallway that day–the hand she shouldn't have raised, the wrist I twisted, the way I let her know she wasn't in control. The memory of her sharp intake of breath still amused me.
The teacher looked uncomfortable, shuffling papers. "We… we'll review the footage. For now, step out."
I moved, slow and deliberate, watching Serena smirk from the corner of the room. Interesting.
A few days later, I overheard her talking to her clique, voice low and flirty.
"I think… I like Raymon," she said, twirling her hair.
The words slid into my mind, tickling something dark and curious.
Interesting.
Later, I cornered Melisa, my "bestfriend" who had her uses.
"Hey… can you find out if Serena has a boyfriend? Or ex?" I asked casually, tilting my head.
Melisa grinned, pulling out her phone. "Already on it. Give me a sec."
Minutes later, she leaned closer. "Okay… she does. And he's intense—serious, possessive. But she's… playing with him. Testing him. Flirting, leading him on… all for fun."
A slow, sinister smile spread across my face. Something was cooking in my brain, and it was going to be delicious.
Her birthday party came. Invitations went out to almost the entire school. Students from other classes, a few teachers' children–everyone.
Everyone, that is, except her boyfriend.
I wasn't invited either, but Raymon was. That suited me perfectly.
I stood in the shadows just outside the hall, watching the glittering chaos of decorations, music, and laughter.
Through a few girls I had subtly recruited earlier, I sent a small message to Serena: "Raymon is waiting for you in the dressing room."
Then, again, I passed a whispered message to Raymon through the same girls: "Lune wants to talk to you about something important, in the dressing room"
Both of them lit up, excitement painting their expressions with innocent anticipation.
Perfect.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and let them stew in it.
I didn't need to rush. They didn't know what was coming.
And by the time they realized it… it would be too late.
A slow, deliberate smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
The party thrummed behind me, full of laughter and chatter, but I felt nothing for it. I felt only the quiet thrill of the plan unfolding, the strings I had pulled beginning to twist perfectly into place.
This was just the beginning.