Chapter 4

With that single accusation, the expressions of everyone present turned subtle and mocking as they looked at Claire.

Claire knew full well what Shirley was playing at, but clean hands needed no washing. Wanting no part in the drama, she tried to walk straight past them, only for Floyd to suddenly grab her wrist in a tight grip.

Looking up, she met the boy's icy composure.

"Claire," he said, his voice dropping to a frigid low. "Are you really that desperate? Any man will do?"

Claire froze on the spot, staring at Floyd in utter disbelief. She had thought that even if everyone else doubted her, Floyd never would.

After all, for such a long time, her heart and mind had belonged solely to this bright, untarnished boy.

She had believed that even if her warmth and love couldn't melt his heart, it would at least prove her sincerity. But as it turned out, her devoted pursuit had earned her nothing more than harsh mockery.

Her thoughts drifted back to how fiercely Floyd had defended Shirley in the group chat that morning, her fingers curling into a tight fist.

When people slandered Shirley, he didn't ask a question, coming to her defense without hesitation. But when people slandered Claire, he turned around and mocked her.

A faint crack split open in her dormant heart, a quiet ache surfacing once more, though it was just a small, shallow tear.

Calming herself down in seconds, she looked up at the boy she had once loved so fiercely and spoke evenly. "If that's what you want to believe, then fine."

Floyd's grip on her wrist tightened to a painful squeeze.

"Claire," he growled, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "Do you really have nothing to explain?"

Claire simply looked at him with quiet detachment. "If I explain, would you even believe me?"

Floyd went rigid, caught off guard. Before he could speak, the door of the limousine behind them opened, and the middle-aged man hurried out.

Oblivious to the tense atmosphere, he stepped forward holding a bag of takeout containers, chatting away warmly.

"Miss Walsh, my daughter mentioned how much you love the snacks my wife makes, so she had a batch freshly made for you. I forgot to hand them to you just now."

Everyone froze in place. "Miss Walsh?"

The man looked up, surprised. "Yes, my wife hired her to tutor our daughter. Is something wrong?"

A quiet hush fell over the crowd, and Floyd's grip on Claire's wrist abruptly slackened.

An awkward flicker crossed Shirley's eyes, but she quickly smoothed it over, speaking in a soft, concerned tone. "Claire, with grades like yours, how could you take on a tutoring job? Aren't you worried about holding the child back?"

The rest of the crowd snapped out of their stupor, rushing to chime in and save face.

"Exactly. Claire, you barely scraped past the cutoff line into our school. How can you use the school's reputation to trick people?"

"Yeah, do they even know you're at the bottom of the class rank? Stop misleading the kid."

...

Claire tuned out their desperate taunts, turning on her heels to walk away.

Without warning, a truck came roaring down the road toward them at full speed.

"Watch out!"

In a flash of blinding movement, Claire heard Floyd shout. Before she could even react, he pulled her tightly into his arms, rolling heavily onto the pavement together.

In a disorienting blur, the last thing she saw was Floyd's panicked face hovering inches away before darkness claimed her senses.