By lunch, the whispers had spread everywhere.
Velithra could feel them following her through the hallways — low voices that stopped when she turned her head, glances traded behind hands. It wasn't new, not really. People had always talked. But this time, the weight of it pressed harder, sharper.
Because this time, it was about him.
"Velithra," a voice called as she passed the cafeteria tables.
She froze. It was Lila — the same girl who used to smile at her for pictures and talk behind her back five minutes later. Lila's glossy hair was tied in a perfect braid, and her group clustered behind her like an audience waiting for a show.
Kai was a few steps behind, his tray in hand.
Velithra turned slowly. "Yeah?"
Lila smiled sweetly — the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "So… you and Kai, huh? Didn't think that was your type."
Velithra blinked. "My type?"
"You know," another girl chimed in, giggling. "Dark. Brooding. Hot-but-dangerous kind of guy. Guess we all underestimated you."
The laughter that followed was shallow and cruel, the kind that scraped at old scars.
Velithra's throat tightened. She wanted to walk away, to pretend none of it mattered. But before she could move, Kai's tray clattered softly onto the nearest table.
The room went quiet.
Kai's voice cut through the noise, low and even — but edged."Got something to say about me?"
Lila blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, we were just—"
"Then shut up."
The way he said it wasn't loud — but it carried.The laughter died instantly. A few students turned to look.
Velithra's heart pounded in her chest.Kai's eyes never left Lila's, black and sharp as glass.
Lila stammered, her voice smaller now. "Relax, it was just a joke—"
"Yeah," Kai said, his tone flat. "You're hilarious."
He turned to Velithra, his expression softening instantly — like a storm breaking apart midair. "You okay?"
She nodded slowly, though her pulse was racing. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But she wasn't.Because in that moment, as everyone stared, she realized how easy it would be to start caring about someone like Kai — someone who didn't just see her pain but refused to let it be entertainment for everyone else.
Kai's hand brushed against hers again as they walked away. Not a claim. Not a comfort. Just a silent reminder: you're not invisible anymore.