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Chapter Two

Mirella

The ride to school was quiet. Too quiet.

Gabriel hummed softly to some old song on the radio, but even that grated on my ears. Every bump in the road rattled against the hollow ache inside my chest. My body felt like lead, and my brain kept replaying my mother’s words like a broken record.

Not pretty enough. Not enough effort. Not enough.

I dug my nails into my palms until little crescents marked my skin, hoping the sting would drown her voice out. It didn’t.

By the time we pulled up to the gates, the usual chaos of students swarming the courtyard greeted me. Laughter, shouts, the clang of lockers—it was all too loud, too bright, like the world didn’t care I had fallen apart just hours ago.

“Have a good day, young Miss,” Gabriel said as I slid out of the car. His eyes lingered on me a second too long, like he could see the storm still clinging to me.

I forced a nod, pretending I was fine. Pretending was the only thing I was good at.

The moment my shoes hit the pavement, I felt it—eyes on me. Whispers crawling along the edges of the crowd. I tugged my blazer tighter around me, as if that could hide the puffiness of my eyes or the fact that I hadn’t eaten in two days.

I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked like hell.

And if there was one thing this place thrived on, it was weakness.

I barely made it past the front doors before the whispers grew teeth.

“She looks rough…”

“Did she even brush her hair?”

“Rich girl finally cracking?”

Their voices were low, but not low enough. They wanted me to hear. They always wanted me to hear.

I kept walking, chin high, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. My hands were trembling, so I shoved them into my skirt pockets, curling my fingers until they hurt.

Then came the laugh. High, mocking, slicing through the hallway noise.

Of course. Her.

Selene.

Leaning against the lockers like she owned the place, her little pack of shadows clustered around her. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect smirk—the kind of perfection that made my mother’s words burn deeper.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice sweet poison. “Look who finally remembered school exists. Was it… what? A breakdown? Or just another tantrum?”

Heat shot up my neck, but my throat closed. My chest tightened the way it always did before the panic hit.

Don’t cry. Don’t show them. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

Selene’s eyes flicked over me, sharp as a scalpel. “Honestly, Mirella… if you’re going to keep walking around like that, maybe stay home next time. Spare us the sight.”

Her friends laughed, the sound echoing in my skull like glass shattering.

For a moment, I actually thought about running. Just turning around, pushing through the crowd, and hiding in the bathroom until the day ended.

But my feet stayed glued. My whole body froze.

The only thing moving was my chest, heaving like I couldn’t get enough air.

The hallway tilted.

At first, I thought it was just me imagining it, but no—the floor swayed, the lockers stretched and shrank, and the air pressed heavy against my chest.

Too many eyes. Too many voices. Too many whispers drilling into my skull.

Ugly. Weak. Not enough. Not enough.

My breaths came short and sharp, like I was trying to breathe through a straw. My nails clawed against the fabric of my skirt pocket, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

Selene’s smirk blurred in my vision. Her lips moved, another cruel line spilling out, but I couldn’t even hear it anymore. All I could hear was my heartbeat hammering like it wanted out of my chest.

The walls closed in. The crowd felt like it was pressing closer, waiting, watching, hungry.

My throat burned. My eyes stung. The tears I swore I wouldn’t let fall slipped anyway, hot and fast down my cheeks.

Then the first sob tore out of me. Loud. Broken. The kind of sound you can’t swallow back once it escapes.

Gasps rippled through the hallway. Phones lifted.

I couldn’t stop shaking. My knees buckled, hitting the ground with a thud that sent a jolt up my spine. Someone laughed. Someone else whispered, “Is she seriously crying?”

I curled into myself, arms wrapped around my ribs as if I could hold myself together. The sobs came harder, jagged and humiliating. The world spun faster and faster until the faces blurred into nothing.

Then—black.

The last thing I felt was the cold linoleum against my cheek before everything slipped away.

When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling wasn’t mine.

It was white, too bright, and smelled faintly of disinfectant.

The nurse’s office.

For a few seconds, I didn’t even remember how I’d gotten there. Then it came back in ugly flashes—the classroom, the stares, the breathless panic that swallowed me whole.

Shame burned hotter than fever. My body felt heavy, drained, as if every ounce of strength had been wrung out of me. I wanted to melt into the bed and disappear.

The nurse appeared beside me, her voice too soft, too careful. “You fainted, dear. You should rest a little more.”

I nodded because I didn’t have the energy to speak. My throat still felt raw from gasping.

By the time she let me go, the hallways had quieted. I slipped out of the building, keeping my eyes low, praying no one would notice me. My driver was waiting, as always.

“Rough day, Miss?” Gabriel asked gently as I slid into the back seat.

I just gave him a half-smile that wasn’t real. “Yeah.”

The ride home blurred by.

Inside the mansion, the silence was heavy, pressing against me from every wall. No footsteps. No voices. Just me. My parents were still gone, my sister buried in her own world.

For once, I was grateful for it.

I dumped my bag on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and dropped onto the bed. My body ached in a way that wasn’t physical. My chest still carried the echo of panic, the leftover tremors.

I closed my eyes, but instead of peace, my mother’s words replayed. Her face. Her voice. Her disappointment. The laughter I imagined from my classmates.

I pressed a pillow over my head, wishing it could drown out everything.

Hours must have passed because the light had shifted when I finally stirred. My throat was dry, and I stumbled off the bed, nearly tripping over my school bag.

Annoyed, I bent down to shove it out of the way. That’s when I noticed it.

A piece of paper, neatly folded, tucked just inside the front pocket.

I frowned. I hadn’t put that there.

With trembling fingers, I pulled it out and unfolded it.

Two words. Just two, written in sharp black ink, messy but deliberate:

I see you.