The fourth-floor hallway was already saturated with the usual noise of students rushing between classes. Yet, within that familiar commotion, a knot of tension vibrated in the air — almost palpable. Jasmine walked with hesitant steps, clutching her bag tightly, still shaken by the unfinished conversation she'd had with Madame Nathalie the day before. A few meters behind her, Lisa watched, shoulders tense, jaw locked, as if every movement Jasmine made awakened a pain she could no longer contain.
Madame Nathalie stepped out of a classroom, a folder tucked under her arm. She halted when she saw Jasmine, her expression softening instantly. That slight change — too subtle for most — was the final straw for Lisa.
She quickened her pace, passed a group of students, and positioned herself squarely in the middle of the hallway, forming a living barrier between Jasmine and Nathalie.
"We need to talk," Lisa said, her voice tight — too loud, too strained.
A few heads turned. Jasmine, destabilized, lifted her gaze toward her friend, sensing the storm about to break.
"Lisa… not here," she whispered.
"Yes, here. Now."
The words cracked through the hallway like a whip. The echo stretched, and silence fell — a silence charged with electricity. Even Nathalie, who maintained her professional composure in all circumstances, felt her fingers tighten around her folder.
"Lisa," she intervened in her controlled, teacher's voice. "If you want to talk to me, we can go to my office. This is neither the time nor—"
"Oh, spare me the 'responsible teacher' act," Lisa cut in, eyes glinting with dangerous emotion. "You're not just her teacher, and everyone knows it."
A murmur rippled through the hallway like a shockwave. Phones began to appear — discreet but unmistakable.
Jasmine turned pale.
"Lisa, stop… please…"
But Lisa was past the point of hearing. Something had snapped inside her. Everything she had repressed, contained, buried beneath humor, boldness, and resilience — all of it surged up without restraint.
"You think I don't see anything?" Lisa said, turning from Jasmine to Nathalie. "You think I don't see the way you look at her? The way she hangs onto your words? The way she changes the second you walk into a room?"
Her words fell heavy and irreversible.
Nathalie lost a fraction of her calm — just a flicker — but Lisa caught it instantly.
"There it is. It bothers you when someone says it out loud, doesn't it? You prefer hiding behind your little pedagogical projects and your artistic analyses. A vulnerable student, impressionable… must be convenient."
"That's enough," Nathalie replied, her voice sharper this time. "You're crossing a line, Lisa. You have no idea how serious your accusations are."
"My accusations?" Lisa repeated, a nervous, heartbreaking laugh bursting out of her. "No. Not accusations. Statements. And I'm saying it in front of everyone:
I'm in love with Jasmine. I have been for months."
A shockwave tore through the hallway. Several students gasped. Phones were now fully raised.
Jasmine staggered, her fingers tightening around her bag. Tears welled in her eyes — but not the expected kind. This was raw, brutal panic.
"Lisa… why are you doing this? Why here? Why like this…?"
Nathalie stepped forward.
"Lisa, you have to stop right now. You're putting Jasmine in an impossible situation. You don't understand the harm you're causing."
"Oh really? You care about her now?" Lisa shot back, her voice trembling with anger and wounded love. "Because you never hurt her, right? Keeping her after class, isolating her, whispering ideas into her head… You think I didn't notice?"
"I have never crossed any boundary," Nathalie replied, her voice suddenly colder, sharper. "And you have no idea what you're talking about."
That tone — no one had ever heard Nathalie speak like that. It was an involuntary admission: she was not entirely in control anymore.
Lisa turned fully toward her.
"I'm talking about what I see. About the way she shakes when you speak to her. About how she looks down. You've locked her into something she can't even understand anymore. And you dare say I'm the one hurting her?"
Nathalie opened her mouth, then closed it. Her professional mask was cracking.
Jasmine, meanwhile, was slowly backing away, each word hitting her like a blade. Her breathing was growing faster — too fast.
"Stop…" she whispered. "Please stop…"
But neither of them heard her.
"You're dangerous for her," Lisa continued, pointing at Nathalie. "You play with her admiration, with her fragility. You know she idolizes you. And you do nothing to stop it."
That accusation struck Nathalie right in the heart. Her composure shattered.
"I have never 'played' with her," she said, her voice trembling, louder than she intended. "Never. I guided her, yes. Supported her. Inspired her. But I never asked her for anything. Never demanded anything. You don't own love or protection, Lisa."
A sentence too honest. Too charged. Too revealing.
The phones captured everything.
Lisa went white.
"Thank you…" she said, her voice breaking. "Thank you for admitting it in front of everyone."
"That's not what I meant," Nathalie replied, suddenly horrified by her own slip.
But it was too late.
The crowd had heard exactly what it wanted to hear.
Jasmine began to shake uncontrollably. A wave of dizziness hit her, and the hallway started spinning. The noise turned into a distant buzzing.
"Jasmine?" Nathalie called out, alarmed.
The girl pressed a hand to her chest, fighting for air. Her knees buckled.
"No… no… I can't… I…"
She collapsed.
Screams erupted.
"Call the nurse!" "She's having a panic attack!" "Move out of the way!"
Nathalie rushed forward, but two students instinctively blocked her, influenced by the accusations they'd just heard.
Lisa dropped to her knees beside Jasmine, but the girl, crying, recoiled instinctively, trapped inside an emotional chaos she could no longer bear.
The nurse arrived running, accompanied by a hall monitor.
"Everyone move!" she barked. "Let us work!"
Nathalie stepped back, her face devastated. Lisa watched Jasmine being helped up, tears streaming uncontrollably.
The hall monitor turned to Nathalie.
"Madame… the administration wants to see you. Immediately."
Silence crashed down.
Nathalie understood. The rumors had already won. The images too.
The hallway opened before her like a long, dark tunnel.
She followed the monitor, upright, shattered, overwhelmed.
Behind her, Lisa wiped her tears, realizing she had ignited a war she might never be able to undo.
And at the center of it all… Jasmine, trembling and drained, stared at the ground, unable to comprehend how the two people she loved most had managed to tear her apart so completely.