Word count: 884
Belle Corsini did not walk into Aureli's University Academy.
She stormed.
Her boots struck the polished marble floor like it had personally offended her, the sound echoing louder than it should have. Heads turned. Whispers followed. Phones lifted and lowered too quickly for it to be subtle.
She felt them all.
Every stare.
Every murmur.
Every unspoken sentence that began with Did you see—
Her phone buzzed again.
Belle ignored it.
The gates of Aureli's loomed behind her—iron-black and unforgiving, engraved with ancient sigils no one bothered to explain anymore. Aureli's wasn't just a school. It was a place for legacies. Old money. Old secrets. The kind of institution that smiled politely while it sharpened its knives.
She didn't belong here.
At least, that's what her mind kept insisting.
Her father had said otherwise this morning, his voice calm, controlled, deadly in the way only Marcello Corsini could manage.
Go. Hold your head high. Let them choke on their curiosity.
Easy for him to say.
Belle adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her jaw tight. She wore black—not because it was fashionable, but because it felt like armor. Her dark hair fell loose down her back, framing a face that refused to soften no matter how much she tried.
Another buzz.
This time, she looked.
Notifications flooded her screen like poison:
Anonymous post uploaded -her nudes-
New comments
Trending on campus feed
Her throat closed.
She didn't open them.
She already knew.
The heat came before the anger did.
It started low in her chest, a slow, unfamiliar burn. Not pain—something deeper. Something alive. Belle frowned, pressing a hand briefly against her sternum as she walked.
Get it together, she told herself.
You're just angry. That's all.
The hallway stretched ahead, lined with glass display cases showcasing Aureli's achievements—championship trophies, academic awards, photographs of smiling students who had clearly never had their lives ripped open online.
She passed them like ghosts.
Then she felt it again.
A sharper flare this time.
Her breath hitched.
The air around her seemed… heavier. Warmer. She tugged at the collar of her jacket, suddenly too aware of her own skin.
"Great," she muttered. "Now I'm overheating."
She stopped short when laughter broke out ahead.
A group of students clustered near the lockers, their voices sharp and amused. One of them glanced at her, eyes widening just a fraction before he leaned in to whisper something.
More laughter.
Belle's fingers curled into fists.
Don't react.
That was rule one. Corsini rule.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, the screen lit up with a name she hadn't deleted yet.
Jayce.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket like it burned.
The heat surged.
Not metaphorical now.
Real.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud enough to drown out the noise around her. The hallway seemed to narrow, the walls pressing closer as if the building itself was watching her.
And then—
"Belle Corsini."
The voice stopped her cold.
She looked up.
Kieran.
He leaned casually against a pillar across the hall, hands in his pockets, uniform immaculate in a way that felt deliberate. Dark eyes sharp. Assessing. He didn't smile—just tilted his head slightly, like he was studying a puzzle he hadn't decided whether to solve or smash.
Of course it would be him.
They'd never spoken properly. Didn't need to. Everyone knew Kieran Vale—the quiet genius, the scholarship anomaly in a school of elites, the boy who never picked sides yet somehow stood above them all.
"What?" Belle snapped.
Something flickered in his expression.
Interest?
Annoyance?
Concern?
Hard to tell.
"You look like you're about to set something on fire," he said lightly.
She scoffed. "Funny."
But her palms were hot now.
Actually hot.
She glanced down just as a faint shimmer rippled across her skin, like heat haze on asphalt.
Her breath caught.
What the hell.
The hallway lights flickered.
Someone gasped.
The temperature spiked.
Belle staggered back, panic slicing through her anger for the first time. The burn inside her chest exploded outward, racing through her veins like liquid flame.
"I— I didn't—" she whispered.
Kieran pushed off the pillar, suddenly alert. "Belle?"
Too late.
The air around her ignited—not into visible fire, but into force. A shockwave of scorching heat blasted outward, rattling lockers, shattering a display case, sending students stumbling back with cries of fear.
Glass hit the floor.
Alarms screamed.
Belle stood at the center of it all, frozen.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Smoke curled faintly in the air.
Her hands trembled.
"I didn't do that," she breathed.
She hadn't meant to.
She hadn't even understood it.
But deep inside her, something stirred—awake now, undeniable, glowing like embers fanned into life.
Kieran stared at her, no fear in his eyes now.
Only certainty.
And something dangerously close to awe.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "You did."
Belle looked down at her hands again.
They were no longer shaking.
They were warm.
Alive.
And for the first time in her life, Belle Corsini realized the world she thought she knew—
the rules, the lies, the safety—
Had just burned away.
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Winnie Peters