CHAPTER 2: When Reverie Shattered.

ALESSA'S POV 

Michael stared at me like he hadn’t heard correctly. His fork hovered mid-air, his smile frozen. Then, slowly, deliberately… he pushed his tray aside and stood.

Every inch of his body language changed, from casual charm to cold amusement.

“You… like me?” he said with a small, mocking laugh. “Wow.”

I stood there, trembling, already sensing something was wrong, but my feet wouldn’t move. My mouth had gone dry. And suddenly, the cafeteria felt suffocating.

Michael turned to his friends, voice rising so everyone could hear.

“She said she likes me. Bro, tell me I’m dreaming!”

Laughter burst out around the table.

Sharp. Cruel. Real.

One of the boys leaned back in his chair. “Dude, isn’t she the weird girl who eats lunch in the library?”

“Wait, is this a dare?” someone else chimed in. “Are we getting punk’d?”

Michael grinned, wide, malicious.

“Nah, I think she’s serious. She’s had this creepy little crush on me since eighth grade. Right, Alessa?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He walked around me in slow circles like I was something on display. Something pathetic.

“She thinks she’s the ‘quiet beauty’ in a movie. The nerdy girl who confesses and wins the guy.” He chuckled. “Except this isn’t a movie, Alessa. This is reality. And in reality? You’re invisible.”

The words struck like bullets.

“I helped you back then because I felt bad for you, because you were pathetic and stupid. That’s all. You were shaking and dirty and looked like a kicked puppy. Don’t confuse pity for affection.”

His words cut through my chest.

Every memory I’d clung to, every late-night fantasy, every warm dream I’d spun about him, they shattered right there on the cafeteria floor.

Someone took out their phone. A flash went off.

“Hey, Michael, make her say it again. Let’s get a clean take!”

“Yeah! It’s like a scene from a sad indie film.”

Michael smirked and held his phone up to record. “Go on, Alessa. Say it again. Say how much you love me. Make it believable this time.”

Laughter roared around me, every single one in the cafeteria. The sound filled my ears like thunder. Everything blurred. Faces, lights, voices, they merged into a nightmare.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

My hands shook violently. I could feel the sting behind my eyes, the tears I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. My knees buckled. My heart screamed for someone to save me, but no one did. There were no teachers around either.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, barely audible.

“What was that?” Michael asked, holding the phone closer.

I looked up at him through my tears, and I swear I didn’t recognize him. The boy who once saved me from Vanessa… no longer existed, no pity or a single empathy.

He’d been replaced by a stranger with a cruel smile and a hollow gaze.

“I said I’m sorry,” I choked. “For ever thinking you were good.”

His smirk faded, just for a split second.

Then I ran.

Out of the cafeteria. Through the long hallway where I used to daydream about walking beside him. Past the lockers where I used to write his name in secret.

And into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, locking the stall, and sinking to the floor.

I broke.

The sobs came in waves. Violent. Helpless. My throat burned from holding back screams.

I clutched my chest like I could rip the ache out of my heart with my bare hands.

I hated him. God, I hated him so much I couldn’t breathe.

But more than that?

I hated myself, for ever thinking I was enough for him.

The stall felt like a coffin.

My knees dug into the tiled floor, the cold biting into my skin. My sobs refused to stop. 

They tore through my throat in broken gasps. Every breath I took felt like glass shards filling my lungs. 

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t pray. Couldn’t breathe without hearing that laughter over and over again in my head.

Michael’s voice. mocking.

His eyes, void of the boy I once loved.

His smile, twisted with cruelty I never imagined he could carry.

And the worst part?

He knew. He knew how much I adored him. How long I’d waited. How deeply I believed in him. He could’ve let me down gently… But he wanted to destroy me. Humiliate me in front of everyone.

I bit down on my knuckles to stop the scream clawing its way up my throat.

I wanted to disappear.

I didn’t even realize how long I’d been on the bathroom floor until my phone buzzed inside my bag. I wiped my tears hastily, my hands trembling as I pulled it out.

Three missed calls from Clara.

One message:

“Alessa, where r u?! Everyone saw what happened. R u okay???”

I turned off the phone. I couldn’t face Clara right now, not when the entire school was probably watching the video on repeat.

Wishing she was around, she would have made this hurt lighter. She would have put Michael in his place but of all day , she chose today to be absent.

I took slow breaths. My chest ached like I’d just run miles underwater.

I needed to leave. I couldn’t stay here another second.

But my body wouldn’t move.

I closed my eyes, trying to find something, anything, to ground me.

And then... my dad’s voice echoed in my mind. That warm, reassuring tone he always had when I messed up as a child.

“No matter what happens, Alessa… you call me, okay? I’ll always come. Always.”

I hesitated. My fingers hovered over his contact.

I shouldn’t. He’s probably working. He’s busy. And I’m fine. I can

But the sob that rose in my throat betrayed me. It broke free with a small, pitiful sound.

My thumb pressed the call button.

It rang once. Twice. Then his deep voice came through.

“My princess?”

That one word.

I broke again.

I clenched my jaw, my lips trembling violently. I forced myself not to speak right away. I didn't want him to know.

“Alessa?” he repeated, voice instantly alert. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Tried to sound normal. Strong. Fine.

“I…I’m okay,” I said, my voice barely steady. “I just… I need you to come get me.”

A pause. A long one. He knew. My father always knew when I was lying.

“Alessa. What happened?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. My lips quivered again. I turned away from the stall door like it would somehow shield me from the shame.

“I just don’t wanna be here anymore,” I whispered. “Please, Dad. Can you… come now?”

Silence again. Then his tone changed—fierce, protective.

“I’m on my way.”

He didn’t ask anything else. Didn’t push.

He just knew.

“Find somewhere safe and wait for me. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

The call ended. I stared at the phone screen for a long time.

Then I let m

yself cry, quietly this time. Into my palms. Not from the humiliation anymore.

But from the relief… of still having one person left in this world who would never hurt me.