Chapter 9 The silent rejection

Elara felt everyone staring the moment she stepped onto the school grounds. Whispers floated through the air like smoke, wrapping around her as she walked past groups of students. Their eyes kept darting to her shoes-they were new, perfectly clean, and expensive. "Did you see her shoes? Where did she even get money for those?" she heard.

The air felt heavier, full of curiosity and soft whispers. Eyes looked at her quickly, then looked away. But she managed to get to her class. She ignored the stares, but the moment she sat down, Bianca's sharp voice cut through the low hum of the room.

"Why did Damien drag you to his car yesterday?" The classroom went completely quiet. Elara froze for a second before sitting down, keeping her eyes on her desk. She didn't answer. She had nothing to say. Bianca's patience snapped quickly.

"Oh, so you're just going to act dumb now?" Bianca sneered, stepping closer, arms crossed. "He dragged you, you didn't want to get in his car, and then today, you show up with new designer school shoes?" Her lips curled in disgust. "What, are you his charity case now?"

Elara's fingers curled under her desk. More whispers. A few students giggled quietly. She could feel their stares burning her skin, waiting for her to react. She didn't give them one. She just stared at her desk, her face still, her hands still. Bianca scoffed.

"Pathetic. Didn't take you for the type to just grab onto a guy's money," she spat, flipping her hair before walking away. Elara swallowed, forcing herself to keep breathing slowly and steadily. Damien hadn't even arrived yet. By the time he finally walked in, the whispers had died down, but the tension still hung in the air. Elara hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet.

"Good morning."

He looked at her, and then nothing. He just sat down, pulled out his notebook, and acted as if he hadn't heard her. Elara blinked, surprised. But then she understood: he wasn't her friend; why would he talk to her anyway? She hadn't even gotten the chance to thank him, but he had already made it clear they weren't connected. Bianca kept looking at Elara throughout the lesson, smirking every time Elara dared to look up.

The next class was about to begin, but Elara felt choked, like she couldn't breathe. She walked to the restroom. She didn't notice the quiet footsteps behind her, didn't feel the trap closing in. Until the door slammed shut. The lock clicked. Darkness. Elara spun around, her heart pounding fast against her ribs.

"Hello?" A faint giggle came from the other side of the door. Then silence. Her stomach dropped. Her hands pressed against the door, fingers shaking.

"Open the door... please." No answer. She gasped. She rattled the handle. She hit her fist against the wood. "Let me out... Please... please let me out..." Still nothing. Her chest felt tight. The air felt thin, pushing in on her. Her breathing became shallow, too fast, too uneven. She reached for her pocket, her fingers shaking as she tried to pull out the inhaler she always carried. But it slipped and fell to the floor. She dropped to her knees, her vision blurring, her fingers clawing at the cold tiles as she struggled to breathe.

The walls felt closer, and her lungs burned. She couldn't breathe. Footsteps. The sound of a key turning. Then light.

"Elara?" It was the janitor. A middle-aged woman with tired eyes stared down at her, looking worried. She rushed forward, kneeling beside Elara. "Breathe, honey, easy-easy, where's your inhaler?" Elara struggled to form words.

"It's... it's... down... some...where." The janitor looked around and found it, then pressed it against Elara's lips. "Deep breath." Elara inhaled, the medicine rushing into her lungs. Again. And again. The dizziness slowly went away. The janitor's face softened with concern.

"Oh, you poor thing," she whispered, brushing Elara's tangled hair back. "What did they do to you?" Elara couldn't answer. Couldn't even look at her. Her hands curled into fists against her lap. The janitor helped her up, her grip gentle but firm. "Can you walk?" Elara nodded, unsteady but determined.

"You should report this... these kids always play the worst tricks on you all these years. What if something bad happened?" The janitor sighed. "No, I can't. It'll only make things worse." The janitor looked at her. Pity showed in her eyes.

"At least, sit for a bit-"

"I have to go... thank you... so much, auntie... thank you," and with that, she forced herself to move.

She reached her classroom, but the lesson had already begun. The teacher saw her. School rules were very strict; it didn't matter if you were rich or poor. If classes started and you weren't inside, you couldn't get in.

"You're late... don't bother coming in." Elara's stomach twisted, but she already knew this would happen. Minutes dragged on. The lesson became a distant hum, words she couldn't understand, couldn't focus on. Her body ached, and her lungs still felt tight. But the worst part was the quiet giggles and sideways glances. Finally, the bell rang. Class was over, and students spilled out, laughter filling the hallway.

Elara stood there, silent, stiff. A group of girls passed by, giggling. One smirked at her before whispering something to her friend. More laughter. She kept her eyes down, but then, that perfume, that smell, it was one of a kind, and she knew who it belonged to. Damien. She felt him before she saw him. He walked past her as if she were nothing; he didn't care; that was none of his business. She then walked to her seat, picked up some books and her bag, then headed straight home.

Elara stepped into her rented apartment. It wasn't very big, but it was enough for one person. It was a place she moved into after her grandmother was taken into care. The living room was small, with one big, soft sofa and a small coffee table near it. A TV was on the wall, but she rarely turned it on. Next to it was a simple study desk with some books and a small lamp. Its soft light made the room feel warmer in the evenings. There was a small kitchen area on the side. A large sliding glass door separated the bedroom from the rest of the apartment, making the space feel bigger. There was a narrow closet and the bathroom. And it felt cozy. This was more than just a home to her.

Her fingers paused over the phone screen before she tapped the familiar number.

"You called so late, what took you so long? You don't love me anymore?" Her grandma's voice was weak but warm.

"Grandma, it's just a few minutes late... I'm sorry... I'll make sure to call you earlier tomorrow," she said warmly. Her grandmother was dramatic, but she loved Elara more than anything.

"I told the nurses I wasn't going to eat until you called me... I'm starving now." Elara frowned for a second. "Halmi... (Korean word meaning grandma)"

"Come on, Elara, you worry too much... I'm okay... I'll eat now... What about you, have you eaten?" Her grandma asked, and Elara quickly replied.

"Yeah, yeah, I've had some noodles."

"Alright... you're starting your shift soon, right? Get some rest, okay, honey? I love you... so much," her grandma said.

"I love you too, grandma... I'll visit you during the weekend," she said. She almost cried after talking to her, but ended up smiling. She felt relieved that she had spoken to her. She called her every day at six in the evening, but today she was ten minutes late. She then took a shower, changed clothes, and headed for her shift.

Elara stepped into the Brew Haven coffee shop. The familiar smell of coffee and warm pastries wrapped around her like a comforting hug. The soft hum of conversations, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine, and the quiet sound of jazz music in the background made her breathe a little easier.

"Elara! Perfect timing!" Maya, the head barista, called from behind the counter. She was making milk foam for a cappuccino, her curly hair pulled into a messy bun. "We're packed today; are you ready?"

Elara smiled and nodded. Mark, the owner, walked past, carrying a tray of croissants. "Good, because table five just asked for their third round of macchiatos; either they're caffeine addicts, or they're staying all night." Elara chuckled and put her apron on, grabbed a tray, and looked toward the group of students huddled near the window. She liked working here.

"Here," Maya nudged her elbow, handing her a plate. "Take these cinnamon rolls to table three, and grab me a caramel latte while you're at it... and if you get the chance, I made some noodles and saved some for you, so make sure you eat them... okay?" Elara nodded. These people treated her like family. Even when everyone else seemed to be against her, they treated her so well.