The first few weeks at her new school had been a breath of fresh air. Ayla had been determined to leave the past behind and start over.
She forced herself to talk more, laugh louder, and blend in. If there was anything she had learned from her childhood, it was that people liked those who shined. Nobody wanted to be around a girl who carried shadows under her eyes and sadness in her bones.
So, she smiled.
She cracked jokes at lunchtime, making Amy and the others burst into laughter. She volunteered to help during class projects, even when she was exhausted. She asked questions, engaged in conversations, and made sure no one ever saw the weight she carried in her heart.
She was like a small ball of light, constantly shining—perhaps too brightly, afraid that if she dimmed for even a moment, the darkness would swallow her whole.
And in the middle of it all, there was him.
Silas Williams.
He wasn't someone who stood out in a loud, commanding way. He didn't dominate conversations or demand attention. But his presence was impossible to ignore. He was the boy who sat by the window, always lost in his own world, always distant, always untouchable.
Ayla had never believed in love at first sight—until she met him.
She didn't know what it was about him that made her heart stutter and her thoughts scatter. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, so effortlessly composed, so different from the chaos inside her. Or maybe it was the way he never seemed to need anyone, as if the world itself could collapse, and he would remain untouched.
Whatever it was, she fell.
Hard.
And she kept falling.
She didn't expect anything from him. She didn't need him to notice her, to talk to her, to love her. Just knowing he existed in the same space as her was enough.
It should have been a harmless, quiet love.
But fate was never kind to her.
---
The confession had been an accident.
One afternoon, Ayla sat beneath the large oak tree in the schoolyard with Amy, the warm breeze making the leaves dance above them.
Amy had been teasing her again, a knowing smirk on her face. "You're ridiculous, you know that? You don't even know him."
Ayla groaned, hiding her face in her arms. "I know, I know. It's just… I can't help it."
Amy chuckled. "So you're just gonna love him from afar forever?"
Ayla sighed, gazing up at the sky. "I don't mind. As long as he's there, it's enough."
A soft laugh sounded from behind them. A laugh that didn't belong to Amy.
Ayla stiffened.
Slowly, she turned her head—and her stomach dropped.
Luna.
Luna Morgan, the queen of whispers, the girl with too much power and too little kindness.
Her lips curled into a wicked smirk. "How sweet."
Ayla's blood ran cold.
She opened her mouth, but Luna was already walking away, a secret now turned into a weapon.
And within days, the entire school knew.
---
It started with the whispers.
When Ayla stepped into the classroom the next morning, she felt it immediately. The shift. The way conversations hushed the moment she entered, the glances filled with amusement and pity.
She tried to ignore it.
Tried to sit down, open her notebook, and act like her world hadn't just collapsed.
Until she heard the first whisper.
"She actually thinks she has a chance with Silas?"
"She's desperate."
"She's pathetic."
Ayla's grip on her pen tightened.
Amy shot her a sharp look, her eyes dark with anger. But before she could say anything, the teacher walked in, and the whispers died down.
But the worst part hadn't come yet.
It happened during lunch.
Silas's friends were loud, arrogant boys who thought the world revolved around them. Ayla had never interacted with them before, but now, they had a reason to pay attention to her.
"Hey, Silas," one of them grinned, leaning across the table. "Did you hear?"
Silas, who had been quietly eating his lunch, barely looked up. "What?"
Ray smirked. "Ayla is in love with you."
The cafeteria seemed to go silent.
Ayla, who had just stepped into the room, froze.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Silas's reaction.
He blinked once. Then, slowly, his gaze lifted—to her.
For the first time, he truly looked at her.
And Ayla?
She wished he never had.
Because there was nothing in his eyes.
No amusement, no shock.
Just indifference.
Then, just as quickly as he had looked at her, he turned away.
As if she didn't exist.
The laughter that followed was deafening.
"She really thought he'd care!"
"She probably thought this was some fairytale romance!"
"She's so delusional!"
Ayla felt something inside her crack.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
But she didn't let them see.
Instead, she smiled.
Not the soft, warm smile she gave when she was truly happy. No, this was different.
This was the smile she had perfected over the years—the one she used to hide everything.
Bright. Carefree. Unbothered.
Even when she was dying inside.
She walked past them, her head held high.
And when she sat down beside Amy, she laughed.
As if nothing had happened.
As if her heart wasn't shattering into pieces.
That night, when she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of it all finally crushed her.
And the tears she had been holding back wouldn't stop.