Chapter 3 Embarrassment

I should've stayed in bed.

The minute I set foot on campus, I could feel it, the weight of every eye on me. Stares that clung like static. Whispers, thick as smoke, floated around my ears no matter where I turned.

"That's her..."

"Julian dumped her at the party, right in front of everyone."

"She begged him. Pathetic."

My legs moved, but my body felt hollow. Each step felt too loud on the pavement, like I was walking through a dream I couldn't wake from. The university had never felt so cruel, and yet this was where I had to be. Where I had to face it all. Face him.

I kept my chin up. I kept my posture perfect. Just like my mother used to teach me before she passed. "If they're watching, let them admire you. Never let them see your pain."

But I was cracking.

Inside, everything was broken glass.

I walked into my lecture hall just as students were settling into their seats. The murmur of gossip grew louder, like waves crashing into my skull. I scanned the rows until I spotted Lana sitting near the back, her familiar honey-brown curls tumbling over her hoodie as she turned, saw me, and immediately waved me over with a look that screamed I've got you.

I collapsed into the seat beside her, trying to steady my breathing.

"You don't have to pretend you're okay, Belle," she said softly.

"I'm not pretending." My voice was hoarse, strained.

She didn't reply, just reached into her bag and slid a small packet of tissues onto my desk. I stared at them for a second too long.

The doors opened again, and there he was.

Julian.

His hair perfectly tousled, jaw sharp, shirt hugging his broad chest like he'd stepped out of a damn perfume ad. And beside him, her. The new girl. Long legs. Perfect skin. Laughing at something, he whispered into her ear as they walked in.

They took their seats in the middle row, right where I could see him, and he could ignore me.

He didn't even glance my way.

The pain curled into my gut like a fist.

I thought I could handle seeing him again. I couldn't.

The professor walked in moments later, balancing a stack of notes, and the noise instantly swelled.

Whispers.

Snickers.

Phones were discreetly pointed in my direction.

And then,

"Enough!" Professor Langston's voice sliced through the room like a whip. "This is a university, not a reality TV set. I expect silence and maturity. One more word about personal drama, and I'll be canceling the lecture."

Silence fell like a curtain.

I stared down at my notebook, my pen trembling in my hand.

I couldn't breathe.

The walls were closing in.

"I need to use the restroom," I whispered to Lana.

She opened her mouth, probably to protest, but I didn't wait. I stood up and quietly left the hall, my heels clicking against the floor, echoing in the silence that had followed me.

The bathroom was thankfully empty.

I locked myself in the furthest stall and sank onto the cold toilet seat. For a few moments, I just sat there, head in my hands, trying to keep it in.

Then it broke.

The tears came fast and hot. My shoulders shook as I sobbed into my hands, every sound muffled by my shattered breathing.

Why did I beg him?

Why did I let him do this to me?

Why do I still want him to care?

I hated myself.

I hated that I missed him.

I hated that he had moved on so easily, laughing, smiling, while I was here, choking on the pieces of myself.

I stayed there until the ache dulled into something numb. Until the tears stopped. I wiped my face, cleaned up, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes were red. My cheeks are blotchy.

I reapplied some powder. Touched up my lip gloss. Forced a breath into my lungs.

You're Anabelle Kingston.

Daughter of Theodore Kingston.

You don't fall apart.

Not in public.

I walked back into the classroom just in time for the professor to call for a short break.

Julian was laughing with his new girlfriend.

And when his gaze finally slid over to me, it was empty. Like I was a stranger. Like I'd never meant a damn thing.

I sat down, every breath like knives in my chest.

Lana leaned in again. "Do you want to leave?"

I shook my head. "No. I want to finish this damn class."

Because if I left now, I'd never come back.

The rest of the hour blurred. I barely heard the lecture on microeconomics. My notes were a mess of half-written lines and tight, angry scribbles. All I could think of was how cold he looked. How easy it was for him to humiliate me.

When the class finally ended, I stood up, ready to bolt.

But just as I reached the hallway...

"Anabelle."

I froze.

I didn't want to turn. But I did.

Julian was standing there, hands in his pockets, casual as ever, like he wasn't the villain in the story he wrote for me.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice raw.

He shrugged. "Just making sure you're not planning on doing anything stupid."

My heart twisted. "You mean like crying in front of the entire university again? Don't worry. You got what you wanted."

He flinched, just slightly.

I stared at him. "You know, you could've ended things quietly. But instead, you chose a crowd. You chose humiliation."

"I didn't mean for it to get that way..."

"You wanted to make a point."

His jaw flexed. "You were... too attached."

I blinked. The words hit harder than I expected.

"Right," I said, stepping past him. "Well, don't worry, Julian. I'm unlearning you now."

I walked out of that building with tears burning in my eyes again, but this time, I didn't let them fall.

Let them whisper. Let them laugh.

Let them think I'm broken.

One day, they'll see me differently.

One day, he will.

And maybe that day isn't today.

But it's coming.