The room was a soft pastel pink, its walls adorned with stickers of butterflies and flowers. A wooden shelf leaned against one corner, crammed with dolls in varying states of use, some dressed in frilly gowns, others with their hair tangled from hours of play. A lace curtain swayed gently from the open window, letting in the warm village air. Sitting on a low stool in the center of the room was a small girl, no older than seven, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.
Velma giggled as her grandmother brushed through her unruly locks, the older woman humming a soft tune. The grandmother, with her silver-gray hair tied in a neat bun and glasses perched low on her nose, moved with practiced ease. The comb's bristles glided through Velma's hair, each stroke gentle and soothing.
"Grandma," Velma said, her voice full of youthful curiosity, "why do you always say one day I'll find someone who loves me?"
Her grandmother smiled, her hands pausing for a moment as she began to part Velma's hair for braiding. "Because, my dear, it's true. One day, you'll meet a boy who will make your world feel brand new. He'll see you for who you truly are and love every bit of you. The two of you will be so happy, it'll feel like a dream."
Velma wrinkled her nose, her little hands gripping the edge of the stool. "Really? But… I don't like boys."
The grandmother chuckled, her laughter warm and melodic. "Oh? Why not?"
"They're mean," Velma declared, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. "Remember that tutoring school in the village? They always picked on me because Papa has all that money and our house is the biggest. They said I was a spoiled princess who didn't know anything." She crossed her arms. "And one of them, Thomas, put a frog in my bag! A frog, Grandma! Can you believe it?"
Her grandmother laughed harder, shaking her head. "A frog, you say? That does sound awful."
Velma nodded vigorously, her pigtails swaying. "And when I told the teacher, she just said, 'Boys will be boys.' But it's not fair! I don't like them at all."
"Well," her grandmother said, her voice soft and full of understanding, "not all boys are like that, Velma. One day, there will be someone different. Someone who will take your hand and tell you all the nice things about yourself—the things you might not even see."
Velma tilted her head, skeptical. "Nice things? Like what?"
Her grandmother smiled knowingly. "Like how smart you are, or how kind. How brave you are for standing up for yourself, even when the boys are mean. And how beautiful you are, inside and out."
Velma's cheeks turned pink, but she grinned, her gap-toothed smile bright. "If he says all that, then maybe he's not so bad."
The grandmother chuckled again, tying off the last braid with a ribbon. "Just you wait, my dear. One day, you'll understand."
The memory lingered faintly in Velma's mind as she stood in the large assembly hall, her hand firmly clasped in Elias's. The present was far removed from the cozy pink room of her childhood, but the warmth of Elias's hand reminded her of the comfort her grandmother's words once brought.
The hall was abuzz with chatter as students filed in, each dressed in the formal academy uniform, their faces a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Large banners hung from the rafters, proclaiming the arrival of the joint mid-term exams. This was no ordinary test—it was a collaborative effort between several prestigious academies, designed to push students to their limits.
Elias gave her hand a gentle squeeze, drawing her attention. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low but warm.
Velma nodded, though her heart raced. "Just… a bit nervous, I guess."
"You'll do great," Elias said confidently. "You always do."
Velma glanced up at him, her expression softening. He had a way of making her believe in herself, even when her doubts threatened to consume her. "Thanks," she murmured.
As the headmaster stepped onto the stage to address the gathered students, Velma couldn't help but steal a glance at Elias. His posture was relaxed, but his grip on her hand remained steady, as if anchoring her to the present.
Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind: Someone who will take your hand and tell you all the nice things about yourself.
Elias had done that and so much more. And as the assembly began, Velma realized that maybe, just maybe, her grandmother had been right all along.
A group of girls huddled in the corridor near the assembly hall, their voices hushed but filled with excitement and malice. Bianca stood at the center, her posture radiating authority, as the girls leaned closer to share their juicy revelation.
"Bianca," one of the girls, a brunette with perfectly curled hair, whispered conspiratorially, "you're not going to believe this."
"What?" Bianca asked, her tone sharp.
"It's about the mid-terms," another chimed in, her smirk wide. "You'll never guess who's in Elias's team."
Bianca raised an eyebrow, her arms crossing. "Just spit it out already."
"It's that girl," the brunette said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Velma."
The other girls giggled, clearly enjoying the rising fury on Bianca's face.
Bianca's expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," one of the girls confirmed, her eyes glinting with mischief. "They're practically glued together. It's disgusting."
"Unbelievable," Bianca hissed. "Let's go see for ourselves."
The clique moved as a unit, their heels clicking against the polished floor as they approached the area where Elias's team was gathered. Bianca's eyes scanned the group, and there they were—Elias and Velma, standing close.
And then she saw it. Elias's hand intertwined with Velma's.
A wave of fury surged through her, so intense that for a brief moment, Bianca imagined strangling Velma right then and there. Her nails dug into her palm as she forced a calm exterior, plastering on a sweet smile.
"Elias!" she called out, stepping forward.
Elias turned, his blue hair falling over his eyes as he quickly brushed it back. He smiled nervously. "Oh, Bianca. Hey."
"I just wanted to wish you all the best for the mid-terms," Bianca said, her tone sugary sweet.
"Thanks," Elias replied, his voice polite but slightly tense.
Bianca's gaze shifted to Velma, who had gone pale. Bianca's smile grew more forced as she addressed her. "And you too, Velma. Good luck."
Velma's entire body tensed. Her legs drew closer together, a subconscious reaction as her mind flashed back to that awful night—the shards of glass, the pain, and Bianca's cruel smile.
She tightened her grip on Elias's hand and took a small step behind him, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Elias, the speech is about to start. We should move to the front."
Elias glanced at Velma, concern flashing in his eyes before he nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go."
Bianca's smile twitched as she waved a tiny goodbye. "See you later."
Elias and Velma walked away, hand in hand, disappearing into the crowd. The moment they were out of sight, Bianca's smile vanished completely, replaced by a cold, seething expression.