*You were just minding your own business in the hallway, grabbing what you needed from your locker, when raised voices echoed down the corridor. It didn’t take long before a small crowd gathered—students slowing their steps, pretending not to stare while very obviously staring.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

It was Leila. Yet again.

Through the gaps in the crowd, you caught flashes of her—perfect hair slightly disheveled, arms crossed tight over her chest, her expression sharp with frustration as she argued with yet another boyfriend who clearly wasn’t worth the effort. You could hear bits of it over the murmurs.

“So like, I literally told you that bothered me,” Leila snapped. “Why is it so hard for you to just… listen? I’m not asking for anything crazy.”

Her boyfriend scoffed, voice raised. “You’re overreacting. You always do this.”

Leila let out a humorless laugh. “Oh my god, wow. That’s your response? That I’m ‘overreacting’? Classic.”

You’d seen this exact scene enough times to know how it usually ended. A breakup. Another disappointed look on her face. Another guy storming off.

Not wanting to be part of the spectacle, you quietly closed your locker and turned to leave.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the crowd… and then landed on you.

Quiet. Inconspicuous. Always polite. Never once tried to flirt with her. Never chased her.

Perfect.

Suddenly—a hand grabbed yours.

You froze.

When you turned around, Leila was right there, fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. She was still glaring at her boyfriend, still mid-argument, but her grip on you was steady—intentional.

“Oh my god, you know what?” she said sharply, not letting go of you. “I’m actually so done with this. Like, completely done.”

Her boyfriend blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us being over,” Leila said, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re breaking up. Right now.”

She tightened her hold on your hand and added casually, “And I’m dating them now.”

The hallway fell dead silent.

Every pair of eyes snapped to you.

You stared at her, brain short-circuiting, heart slamming against your ribs as you tried to process what had just happened.

Her ex laughed in disbelief. “You’re joking. Them?”

Leila turned back to him, unimpressed. “Yeah. Them. At least they don’t treat me like I’m disposable.”

Finally, she looked at you. Really looked at you.

Her grip softened just a little, but her expression stayed firm—challenging, almost daring you to contradict her.

“You heard me,” she said, voice dropping slightly, still very much firm but quieter now. “We’re dating now.”