Chapter 1 -Mayas POV

CHAPTER 1 : The Bet

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing on my phone.

My hands shook so hard I could barely scroll. Fourth period had just started, and the teacher was at the board pretending to teach, but everyone’s attention was on me. She gave me that same pitying look everyone else had been giving me since morning , like I was some fragile thing that might fall apart if anyone spoke too loudly.

Every whisper, every sideways glance burned like fire on my skin.

The secret I had tried to bury was now smeared across every hallway, every group chat, every feed.

My father’s abuse.

It wasn’t just a rumor anymore. It was a headline.

A student newspaper post. A trending thread. A secret that had turned into entertainment.

“Is it true?”

“I heard her dad’s in jail.”

“No, she made it up for attention.”

“Gross. Imagine being her.”

They whispered like I couldn’t hear them but I could. Every word, every laugh, every click of a phone camera made my stomach twist.

Someone pointed their phone at me, pretending to “check the time.” But I knew they were recording.

They cared more about likes than the truth.

Another threw a crumpled piece of paper at my desk. I didn’t need to open it to know what was written inside.

Therapy didn’t fix crazy.

The air felt thick, hard to breathe.

I stared at my phone again , my name plastered beneath the headline:

“Mysterious Therapy Sessions - What Is Maya Hiding?”

My chest tightened. My lungs refused to work.

The queen of this school.

She has perfect hair, perfect grades, perfect everything.

There’s no way she’d pay any attention to a quiet, unpopular girl like me, with bruised eyes and a worn-out backpack.

Until Tray showed up.

That afternoon, I’d stayed behind, skating long after everyone else left, trying to perfect my shot. Tray had walked in, still in his gear, watching from the sidelines.

“You’ve got more fire than half the team,” he’d said, smiling. “You just hide it too well.”

No one had ever said that to me. For a moment, the light broke into my dark world.

That was the moment he slipped under my skin, the golden boy who everyone loved, noticing the girl no one saw.

From then on, he started talking to me occasionally after hockey practice, then laughing at my terrible jokes, even walking me home.

I felt a little thrill at finally being seen. I wasn’t invisible anymore. Tray treated me specially—or at least, that’s what I thought.

It felt real. He’d stay after practice to help me. Bring me coffee on game days. Sit beside me at lunch, even when his friends teased him. He made me believe I mattered.

But his attention caught Claire’s eye soon. She believed a golden boy like Tray could only be with her. After three months of chasing him, he hadn’t chosen her—and now he was always with me. I knew exactly what that meant.

So then things changed. His teammates joked. Girls started whispering. And slowly, the space between us filled with things unsaid — with doubt, pride, and his fear of losing his image.

So when Claire suggested a “game,” he played along.

Because how could the school’s golden boy actually like the broken girl who lived on the wrong side of town?

I didn’t know that then.

I thought he was different.

The walls were closing in. I shoved my phone into my bag and stood.

“Maya?” The teacher called, but I didn’t answer.

I ran.

Down the hall. Past the whispers. Past the laughter that followed like knives.

My breath came in sharp bursts as I reached the gym doors and stopped cold.

There they were.

Tray and Claire.

Her hands in his hair. His mouth on hers.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Tray?” My voice cracked, small and shaking.

He pulled back instantly, eyes wide, guilt

flickering across his face before he looked away.

“Maya,” he called out.

Claire smirked, lips red and swollen. “Oh, don’t stop now, lover boy. You were just getting good at pretending.”

My stomach dropped. “What did you do, Claire?”

“Do?” she echoed, tilting her head. “You mean exposing the truth? You should really thank your boyfriend for that one.”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“Who do you think told me about your therapist? About your daddy issues?” Her voice dripped with mock pity.

My heart stopped.

I turned to him. “That’s not true.”

He didn’t look at me. His jaw was tight, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Tray,” I whispered, desperate now. “Tell me she’s lying.”

He still didn’t speak.

Claire laughed — low and satisfied. “He won’t. Because it’s true.”

“No…” I shook my head. “You’re just trying to…”

“Sweet, naïve Maya.” She stepped closer, her heels clicking like gunshots on the gym floor. “Did you really think he liked you? That he’d ever choose you over me?”

My voice trembled. “What are you talking about?”

“Ask him about the bet.”

My blood ran cold. “What bet?”

Claire smiled. “At the start of the semester, Tray made a fifty-dollar bet with his friends.He bet he could make the quiet, sad hockey girl fall for him. Guess who won?”

I looked at Tray, but his silence screamed louder than words ever could.

“Fifty dollars. Only fifty dollars. He toyed with me like that for just fifty dollars.”

Claire turned her gaze back to me, eyes glinting. “He was supposed to flirt, make you fall, then dump you before you got too attached. But I’ll admit , he played his part beautifully. Almost had me fooled too.”

Tears burned my eyes.

“You’re sick,” I whispered, trembling. “Both of you.”

Tray finally looked up. His eyes were glassy, full of regret — but he still said nothing.

That silence broke me more than her words ever could.

I turned and ran.

Out of the gym. Out of the school.

Claire’s laughter followed.

“Run, Maya! Maybe your therapist can fix this one too!”

The cold air hit me like knives as I burst outside. My lungs burned, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I didn’t know where I was going. I just needed to leave.

I rounded the corner, my steps slowing, the street spinning under the flickering light of a lamppost.

That’s when I saw him.

Leaning against the fence at the end of the road.

My father.

Drunk.

His shirt was half open, his eyes red and wild, a bottle dangling from his fingers.

“Maya,” he slurred. “You came just in time. Otherwise, I might have had to track you down myself…”

My stomach twisted. “Stay away from me.”

He laughed, low and ugly. “You embarrassed me. You told people things. Lies.”

“They’re not lies,” I said, my voice shaking. “You did those things!”

His smile dropped. “You little—”

He lunged.

I screamed as his hand clamped around my wrist, his grip iron-tight. The smell of alcohol choked me.

“Let go!” I cried, struggling, kicking, clawing at his arm.

His hand wrapped around my wrist the same way it did when I was little — tight enough to bruise, tight enough to silence me.

My body remembered before my brain did. The fear came first.

Not again. I can’t take this anymore. Despair swept over me.