CHAPTER 80
**WINTER**
Taking a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and finally stepped out of the ladies' room, hoping I’d shaken off some of the tension still coiled tightly in my chest. A loud rumble from my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts, and I winced at the timing—of course, it had to happen now, in the middle of the hallway where every sound seemed amplified. A few heads turned, and I spotted a girl leaning over to whisper to her friend, both of them casting smug glances my way. I didn’t need to hear their words to know they were mocking me.
Ignoring them with every ounce of strength I had left, I kept walking, though each step felt heavier than the last. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to look straight ahead, even though every sidelong glance felt like a knife in my back. But keeping my head up came at a price.
Out of nowhere, a foot slid into my path, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I hit the ground. Laughter erupted behind me, cruel and cold, and a voice hissed, "Look at that. Nobody wants you here, freak."
My heart hammered as I turned to face the smirking culprit—a guy I didn’t recognize, but he wore his arrogance like a badge. I held his gaze, fury simmering just below the surface, and for a split second, I wanted to lash out. But it wasn’t worth it—not here, not now. Glaring, I turned away, leaving his laughter and the whispers trailing behind me.
As I finally stepped through the cafeteria doors, a rush of warmth enveloped me, accompanied by the delicious smells of lunch that made my stomach growl even more. The cafeteria was bustling with students chatting and eating, and I noticed the buffet line already starting to form. I quickly grabbed a tray and joined the line, hoping that the tempting aroma of grilled food would help me forget the embarrassment of the morning.
In front of me was an amazing selection: crispy chicken tenders served with honey mustard, creamy macaroni and cheese bubbling under a crunchy breadcrumb layer, and colourful bowls of salad filled with fresh greens, cherry tomatoes, and a splash of vinaigrette.
Nearby, there were platters of roasted veggies and a variety of soups, steam rising and blending with the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked garlic bread. But my focus—and my hunger—was locked on the golden french fries stacked high on a tray at the end, crispy and shining.
At last, I reached the Chicken station, anticipation building as I met the server’s eyes. But his gaze was cold, dismissive like I was a problem he’d rather ignore.
"Could I please get some Chicken tenders?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. But he just stared back, not moving.
Before I could press him, a girl’s tray bumped against mine as she shoved her way beside me.
“Hurry up, loser. Some of us have places to be,” she sneered, her voice sharp with disdain. I bit back a retort, trying to stay focused, but the server moved right past me, plopping a generous serving of chicken onto her tray as if I didn’t exist.
“Excuse me, I asked for the Chicken tenders,”
The girl smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t worry, we’ll leave you something... like the scraps,” she laughed, and I clenched my jaw, heat rising to my face as she strolled off.
The server gave a nonchalant shrug, finally glancing at me. “Salad and soup only. Do you want it or not?” His tone was clipped, indifferent.
“No, I don’t want the salad and soup. I want the roast chicken,” I said, my voice firm but edged with frustration.
The server looked at me with a smirk that barely hid his contempt. “Too bad,” he replied, sounding almost amused. “Take it or leave it. Those are your options.”
A bitter realization crept over me, tightening in my stomach—somewhere deep down, I knew this was Zion's doing, another silent reminder that he could pull strings and make my life miserable in ways I hadn’t even considered.
Anger bubbled up, but I forced myself to stay calm. I could storm out of here empty-handed, but my hunger wouldn’t let me. I clenched my teeth, knowing I was being played. “Fine.”
The server piled salad and a small bowl of soup onto my tray with a smirk. I grabbed my food and scanned my card at the end of the line, ignoring the snickers that followed.
I found a seat in the far corner of the cafeteria, setting my tray down and staring at the unappealing meal. The choice had been stripped from me, even in something as simple as lunch.
I sat for several minutes, poking at the salad, my appetite completely vanished. Glancing back at the food line, the memory of my earlier humiliation soured my stomach even more. If the lunch experience hadn’t turned into such a disaster, I might have been tempted to go back for seconds, but not now. I was done—done with today, done with these people, done with this college.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed my tray away and got up, my legs moving automatically toward the library. Maybe I could find a little peace there, at least for a while. But just as I stepped into the corridor, a sharp tug on the back of my hoodie yanked me backwards.
Panic surged through me as I flailed for something to grab onto, my fingers grasping at empty air. My breath hitched in my throat, and then my back slammed against something solid—a firm chest.
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