Mira expected whispers when she walked into class the next day.
What she didn't expect was silence.
Section H was already full. Every seat taken. Everyone waiting.
Jade stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"So," she said, loud enough for the hallway to hear, "before anyone else talks about our classmate—let's clear something up."
Mira froze.
Jade turned to her and smiled. "Mira didn't lie. She survived. Big difference."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"You think she owes you explanations?" Jade continued. "She doesn't. None of us do."
A boy in the back stood up. "Section H gets treated like trash anyway. At least now they're paying attention."
Laughter followed—real laughter this time.
Students from other sections peeked inside. The whispers shifted.
Later that day, the principal called for an assembly.
Mira stood at the microphone, knees shaking.The whispers didn't stop.
If anything, they grew louder.
When Mira walked into class the next day, conversations paused just a second too long. Eyes followed her. Some curious. Some judgmental. Some sympathetic.
She wanted to disappear again.
But before she could reach her seat, Jade stood up.
"Okay," Jade said loudly, clapping her hands once. "If anyone has something to say about Mira, say it to our faces."
The room went silent.
One student scoffed. "We're just surprised. That's all."
"Surprised she's human?" Jade shot back. "Surprised she has talents? Or surprised someone from Section H doesn't fit your stereotypes?"
Mira's chest tightened.
Jade stepped closer to her. "She never lied. You just assumed."
More voices joined in—Section H this time.
"She's still Mira."
"She helped me study."
"She listens when no one else does."
Mira felt her eyes sting.
Lucas stood near the back, arms crossed—not intervening, but present. Steady. Supportive.
Taking a deep breath, Mira finally spoke.
"I didn't hide because I thought I was better," she said, voice shaking but clear. "I hid because I was scared. But I'm done being ashamed."
No one laughed.
For the first time, the stares didn't feel heavy.
They felt… uncertain.
And Mira realized something important—
Standing up didn't mean shouting.
Sometimes, it just meant telling the truth.