𝐂𝐡𝐩𝐭 𝟏𝟑

As the weekend came to an end, I braced myself to face Kamala and figure out what was going on. The weight of uncertainty had been gnawing at me, and I knew I couldn't let it go on any longer.

I walked into class, sliding into my usual seat. Kamala usually came in after me, and as I glanced around, I saw Riah already at her desk, pen in hand. We chatted quietly for a few minutes, the room filling with the hum of students settling in.

Then the door opened.

My head shot up instinctively, and there she was—Kamala. But something was different. Her usual radiant smile was nowhere to be found, replaced by a weary, almost haunted expression. She looked stressed, her movements slower, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The sight alone made my chest tighten, my heart aching in ways I couldn't explain. What was going on with her?

I wanted to call out to her, to ask if she was okay, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was watch as she walked to her seat, her head slightly bowed, keeping eye contact with everyone—but me.

She didn't even glance my way, which wasn't normal. I was always the first thing she looked at when she walked into the room. That small acknowledgment, that subtle connection—it had become a constant. But today, it was missing.

A wave of hurt and confusion washed over me. Did I do something? Was it something I said?

Kamala placed her things on her desk and began setting up her board, her movements brisk and methodical, almost mechanical. The class settled as she launched into her usual lecture, but something was off. Her voice lacked its usual warmth, her gestures were stiff, and she seemed more focused on avoiding eye contact than engaging with us.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Every word she said, every movement she made, I watched it all, searching for some hint of what was wrong.

Finally, she caught me staring. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I could feel the weight of her emotions, like a barrier she was desperate to keep up. Then, just as quickly, she looked away, her face unreadable but her avoidance unmistakable.

I didn't care if she saw me staring. I wasn't going to stop. She was the one avoiding me, the one putting up walls. If she wanted to pretend everything was fine, I wasn't going to play along.

Once the lecture ended, the classroom emptied quickly, students eager to move on with their day. But I stayed behind, my heart pounding as I watched Kamala tidy up her desk and prepare for her next class.

Her back was turned to me, her movements precise yet distant, as if she were trying to stay busy enough to avoid her own thoughts.

"Kamala?" I said softly, my voice hesitant but resolute.

She froze for a moment, her hand pausing mid-reach for a stack of papers. Slowly, she straightened, but she didn't turn around.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at the wall she was putting up between us. "Can we talk?"

Her shoulders rose slightly with a deep breath, then fell. She turned halfway, her expression carefully neutral as her eyes met mine for the briefest moment before darting away. But she didn't say anything.

"You've been avoiding me, and it's not like you. Did I... do something?"

Kamala seemed a bit startled by my voice, her hand faltering slightly as she adjusted the papers on her desk. But she didn't turn around, her back remaining firmly to me.

Before I could say another word, the door creaked open behind me, and my stomach sank.

"Knock, knock," Stanley's voice chimed, overly sweet and dripping with smugness. She tapped lightly on the doorframe but didn't wait for an invitation before stepping inside. Just great.

Kamala tensed immediately, her shoulders stiffening as she kept her focus on the desk in front of her.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" Stanley asked, her tone making it clear she wasn't sorry at all. Her eyes darted between the two of us, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

I clenched my fists at my sides, biting back the first thing I wanted to say. "Actually, yes, you are," I said, my voice steady but sharp.

Stanley laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Didn't mean to barge in, but Kamala and I have something we need to discuss. Faculty stuff," she added, her gaze lingering on Kamala.

Kamala still hadn't turned to face me, and that hurt more than I cared to admit. Instead, she muttered something under her breath that I couldn't make out and grabbed a folder from the desk

"Of course, let's talk in the hall," Kamala said, her voice quiet but resolute as she reached for the folder in her hand.

My mouth fell open in disbelief, and before I could stop myself, I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, so you'll go out and talk with her, but when I was just calling your name, you pretend not to hear me?"

Kamala froze for a moment, then sighed deeply, pressing her fingers to her temples as if trying to stave off a headache. "Ms. Wright," she said, her tone firm but weary, "I have to speak with Professor Stanley, and I'm sure you have another class to attend."

Her words hit like a slap, the formal use of my name stinging more than I expected. I stared at her, my chest tightening.

"Okay, bet. Say less."

Stanley stood near the door, her arms crossed, watching the exchange like it was her own personal entertainment. Her smirk widened, clearly reveling in the tension.

"It'll just be a minute, Allura. You don't have to get snappy with Professor Harris."

Before I knew it, something in me snapped. I was so sick of Stanley's slick comments and even sicker of Kamala never coming to my defense.

I kept my body facing Kamala, but I shot Stanley the hardest side-eye I could muster. "Stop talking to me before I have you in here crying," I said, my voice sharp and unyielding.

Stanley's face twisted into a mask of shock, her mouth falling open slightly before she placed her hands on her hips. "Excuse me?!" she said, her voice rising.

"You're excused," I replied coolly. "Because you heard me."

Her lips parted as if she were about to fire back, but before she could get a word out, I turned on my heel and walked out the door. My steps were quick, each one fueled by a mixture of frustration and adrenaline.

I didn't look back, didn't care to see their reactions. If Kamala wanted to sit there and let Stanley run her mouth unchecked, fine. But I wasn't going to stand there and be disrespected anymore.

As I stormed down the hall, my heart raced, and a part of me wondered if I'd gone too far. But the other part, the louder part, felt validated.

I know this one is short but I had to write this idea down before I forgot about it. Allura finally checked Stanley.

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