5

Olivia POV:

I knew today would be different the moment I stepped onto the school compound. As I trailed behind Lisa—a beacon of confidence that welcomed me into a world I once feared—I could feel every gaze piercing through me.

It wasn’t just the buzz from yesterday’s rumour or the scandal that had everyone whispering; it was something far more profound. It was my transformation.

My reflection had evolved overnight, and no longer was I the timid girl I once was. I sensed that head-turning metamorphosis even before I saw the astonished expressions on my peers' faces.

“See, Olivia, I told you your head would turn when they see your new look,” Lisa said with infectious excitement, her smile wide and unapologetic. “It’s high time you had a boyfriend.” There was a playful irony in her words, both teasing and encouraging.

While her encouragement stung slightly because of my insecurities, I secretly craved the validation that came from knowing I wasn’t forgotten.

I could see the ripple effect of my transformation—like a stone tossed into a pond, spreading outward with every step I took.

The stares, the whispers, and even the sudden gasps all combined to create a canvas of attention that left me equal parts exhilarated and exposed. I wasn’t enjoying every bit of it, but I couldn’t deny the thrill of making jaws drop.

Lisa continued, “Olivia, this is your chance to confess your love for Arden. I know you’ve always had feelings for him. Just forget about what happened yesterday—we both know he wants the best for you.” With that, she enveloped me in a warm hug before hurrying off to her class.

 Lisa attended class 2A, a place marked by brilliance and the kind of intelligence that made her a shining star in our corridors. Her realm was one of the smartest, and yet it felt like a world apart from mine.

My journey that day, however, was not a straight path to admiration or acceptance. As I passed by Lisa’s class, I couldn’t help but notice a subtle contrast in the school’s layout—the class at the very end, shunned by reputation and occupied by those labeled as

“losers”

or the

“dumbest” students. The irony wasn’t lost on me; here I was, thrust into this spectacle of my new persona, yet still finding solace in the familiar isolation of the corners where I’d always felt most at home.

I took a deep breath as I crossed the threshold into my classroom, my mind a mixture of hope and apprehension—hope, because I might see Arden, the one who had captured my heart; and apprehension, because his absence from his usual place in the classroom sent my thoughts spiraling.

I scanned the empty rows and realized that not even a whisper of his presence was there today. He was gone, vanished from his usual seat without a word or clue of his whereabouts.

With my heart pounding in the silence of my empty seat, I tried to absorb the teacher’s words—but I couldn’t focus on the lesson.

The lingering thoughts of Arden and the unresolved emotions kept distracting me. When the bell finally rang, shattering the classroom’s monotony, I grabbed my bag with a sense of urgency. Hunger gnawed at me more than usual; a peculiar emptiness that no snack could satiate.

I recalled that though my parents had packed snacks for me every morning, each bite only deepened this sensation of longing, as if something was missing—something I still couldn’t name.

Stepping into the bustling hallway near the cafeteria, it wasn’t long before I found Lisa waiting, her energy as contagious as ever.

“Come on, Olivia!” she said, almost dragging me along. We moved together, our footsteps echoing against the tiled floor, as we passed by groups of curious onlookers.

The spotlight was unmistakably on us—the transformed me and the effervescent Lisa Maxwell. Despite my shyness, bolstered by one strong supportive kick from Lisa, I began to walk with the kind of confidence I hadn’t felt in years.

“Okay, bye Olivia. I’d love to join my boyfriend,” Lisa chirped as she leaned in to give me one last parting smile before striding off toward her boyfriend, Pete Graham—a boy known not only for his intelligence but also for the way he so effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone around him.

Lisa, ever the connoisseur of wit and smarts, always gravitated towards the academically gifted, while I found myself magnetically attracted to the bold, the daring, and yes, to the hottest boys in our school. It made me wonder if my newly ignited persona would ever let me transcend my unassuming nature.

Unlike Lisa, my circle of friends was nearly non-existent, and joining her for lunch was simply not an option. I knew that being around her high-flying crowd would only remind me of the boundaries I couldn’t cross. With a resigned sigh, I continued on my solitary journey down to my usual spot—the one infamous for being the haunt of those deemed outcasts; the designated area for those who simply didn’t fit into the neat categories of the school hierarchy.

I settled into that familiar table, placing my bag carefully as if it held the very essence of my past failures.

Retrieving the snacks from my room, I couldn’t help but feel a sting at the thought of spending money on the cafeteria’s food—a constant reminder of how far I was from the lavish social circles. At least here, in this quiet corner, I had some measure of comfort.

As I lost myself in quiet solitude, a voice shattered my isolation.

“Hey Olivia, you look so gorgeous,” called Ethan as he approached me. His compliment was warm yet unassuming, a gentle echo of better times, before the subject of Arden reentered my thoughts. I asked him hesitantly,

“Where is Arden?” My voice carried a tremor of anxiety that I couldn’t hide. Ethan paused, a fleeting breath escaping him as he responded uncertainly,

“Oh, I remembered he was in the music room, but he later went out. I don’t really know where he’s headed. Don’t worry—Arden is still here in the school, I saw him this afternoon,” he said casually before disappearing into the throng of students.

Before I could digest his words fully, Martha entered the cafeteria with her typical air of disruption. We’d had our share of unspoken conflicts ever since the incident yesterday—a lesson in humility or simply a reminder of that bittersweet memory.

Today, Martha’s antics began early as she made a show of nearly slipping on the tiled floor. I rose instinctively, catching her tray with a graceful yet reluctant gesture, my eyes locked on hers in a silent exchange of reproach.

“Don’t be too clumsy, Martha,” I managed to say, my tone measured and unwilling to ignite another scene.

It wasn’t that I craved confrontation; I wanted nothing more than a peaceful existence. After all, yesterday’s events had taught me that public spectacle could lead to an avalanche of regret, and I had no desire to be swept up in another moment of chaos.

During our brief free time, a spark of determination overtook me. I needed to see Arden—not just for the sake of clearing the air, but because I knew, deep inside, that beneath his quiet exterior, he harboured feelings for me. With that thought anchoring my resolve, I set out in search of him.

I scoured the school premises, heart racing with every uncertain step, until I discovered him alone in an empty classroom.

There, surrounded by the stillness of abandoned desks and the quiet hum of the building, Arden was immersed in creating a portrait. I couldn’t see clearly what he was painting, but the focused set of his shoulders and the deliberate strokes were enough to draw me in.

“Arden!” I called out, my voice echoing in the quiet space. He turned to face me, his expression blank at first, as though he were still suspended in the depths of his thoughts. Despite the cool detachment that marked his features, I couldn’t help but smile, stepping closer with the hope that this was the moment to bridge the distance between us.

“How long have you been looking for me?” His voice was soft yet carried a tinge of uncertainty, as if even he was unsure what to say after all this time. I tilted my head, a gentle laugh bubbling up.

“Really? That was the only word that came out?” The playful mockery in my tone was meant to ease the tension, but beneath it lay a desperation to be understood—a yearning for affirmation.

Caught up in the impulsive confession of my feelings, I gestured toward the portrait.

“Do I look like I’m lying to you?” My gaze shifted to the painting, and there it was—a portrait of a girl who looked unmistakably like me. The painting was both a revelation and a riddle: each brushstroke told a story of confusion and longing, a silent admission of emotions neither fully expressed nor entirely concealed.

“You’re doing this for me?” I said with a mixture of elation and disbelief. Despite the tender warmth in my voice, Arden’s response remained indifferent. Every unreturned smile and every delayed moment of acknowledgment stung like frost on a winter morning.

But I couldn’t let my hurt silence me. I pressed on, determined to break through the layers of his aloof demeanor.

“Arden,” I called again, stepping in closer until our faces nearly touched. In the charged intimacy of that fleeting moment, our lips met in a sudden, passionate collision—an act of desperate affirmation of the emotions we’d both held under lock and key.

At first, he seemed to resist, his body stiff with uncertainty or perhaps caution, but gradually, the chill of indifference thawed as he responded in kind.

In that kiss, I felt every unspoken word, every hidden hope, and every risk we both carried. It was a moment suspended in time—a bridge between the person I once was and the person I was becoming.

When we finally pulled away, he looked at me one last time before he walked away, his irritation was obviously visible to me.

What did I do wrong I wondered, I was so embraced because Ethan saw it all.