The next day started out like any other.
Michelle was sitting in the campus café, waiting for her lecture to begin, jotting down notes. Steve had brought her coffee that morning, with a sweet message scribbled on the cup: For my girl. Love, S.
She kept the cup beside her, smiling without even realizing it.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
đź“© "He sleeps with all the quiet ones first. You're not special."
A chill went down her spine.
Ten minutes later, another message.
đź“© "Ask him about Chloe's party last semester. If you dare."
Michelle froze. Who was this? Why now? And why did that old fear crawl back into her chest—the one whispering she wasn't enough?
She looked up—across the room stood Chloe and Tara. Both watching her. Both smirking.
The whispers spread like wildfire.
"I heard she's just using him for attention."
"Didn't he already hook up with Chloe? So what's her deal?"
"Poor girl thinks she's the only one."
Michelle felt her cheeks burn. Her stomach turned. She wanted to disappear. To melt into the walls. To not exist.
Then she saw him.
Steve stood by his locker, closing it, and when he spotted her across the hallway, he immediately sensed something was wrong.
"Michelle? What's going on?"
She handed him her phone silently.
He read the texts. His expression darkened.
"Chloe," he muttered.
"Were you… with her? At that party?" Michelle asked quietly.
Steve looked her in the eyes. Honest. Steady.
"She was there. But I never touched her. She came onto me once, and I turned her down—nicely. Since then, she's hated me."
Michelle said nothing. Her eyes shimmered with hurt.
"Hey," he took her hand gently. "Look at me."
She did.
"They're doing this because they're jealous. You're the one I chose. And if you ever leave me, it won't be because of them. It'll be your choice. But I'm not letting go. Got it?"
She breathed in, tears slipping down her cheeks. She nodded.
And in that moment, something in her changed.
She walked into the classroom and took her usual seat. When Chloe and Tara walked in, Michelle stood up.
The room went still.
"Do you have something to say to me?" Michelle said clearly. "Or are you going to keep sending anonymous messages like a coward?"
Chloe froze. Tara flushed red.
"You don't control me. I'm not here for you. And I'm definitely not afraid of girls who have nothing better to offer than hate."
Then she sat back down. Calm. Composed. Triumphant.
At the doorway, Steve stood.
He had seen the whole thing. And his eyes were full of pride.
When their eyes met, Michelle felt it. That strength. That fire. That love.
Because love doesn't just live in kisses—it lives in who stays when things get hard.