chapter 15

Diana's pov

It started as something small.

Something stupid.

Abby and I had been us—kissing in the hallways, holding hands at lunch, being that annoying couple everyone rolled their eyes at. Not caring about the 'rules'. And then, out of nowhere, it started to feel… tense.

It wasn’t like we were mad at each other, not really. But little things started piling up.

Like how she got frustrated every time Ms. Collins separated us in class. How she’d grab my hand in the hallways, holding on just a little too tight, glaring at Ms. Collins whenever she was nearby.

Like how I’d been distracted lately, thinking about things I didn’t want to think about. The rumors, the weird way people were acting, the way Ms. Collins would talk to me like she knew something I didn’t.

And then, one day, it just… boiled over.

We were walking to lunch, hand in hand, when Abby sighed. “I swear, if Ms. Collins makes another passive-aggressive comment about us, I’m gonna lose it.”

I frowned. “She’s just being annoying. Don’t let it get to you.”

Abby scoffed. “Oh, I’m not letting it get to me? You’re the one who actually listens to her.”

That made me stop. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Abby turned to face me, arms crossed. “You don’t see it, do you? She’s getting in your head. Every time she says something, you start thinking about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s just a teacher. Why do you care so much?”

“Because she’s not just a teacher,” Abby shot back. “She’s obsessed with you, Diana. She’s always around. Always watching. And now she’s convinced you we’re not gonna last.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “That’s not true.”

Abby gave me a look. “Isn’t it?”

For a second, I didn’t say anything. Because the truth was… I had been thinking about the things Ms. Collins said. Not because I believed her, but because she kept putting the thoughts there.

And Abby saw it.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I don’t care what she says. I like you, okay? But if you keep letting her get in your head, maybe she’s right about us.”

That hurt.

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out.

For the first time since we got together, I didn’t know what to say.

And that scared me.

The tension between us snapped like a rubber band stretched too far.

Abby’s words hung in the air—Maybe she’s right about us.

I hated that she said it. Hated that a part of me wondered if she meant it.

“So that’s what you think?” I said, my voice sharp, defensive. “That I’m just letting her control me?”

Abby scoffed, crossing her arms. “Diana, open your eyes. This isn’t just about her making a few comments. She’s messing with you. She’s been messing with us since the beginning.”

I clenched my jaw. “And what do you want me to do? Just ignore everything?”

“Yes! Because none of it matters! Not the rumors, not the dumb rules she suddenly cares about, not whatever mind games she’s playing. We matter—us. Or at least, I thought we did.”

My stomach twisted. “So now you’re saying I don’t care about us?”

Abby exhaled, shaking her head. “That’s not what I said.”

“But that’s what you meant.”

She gave me a look, her expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Diana. Every time I try to talk to you about this, you act like I’m overreacting. Like I’m wrong for noticing what she’s doing.”

I was frustrated. At her. At myself. At all of this. “Because I don’t know if she’s actually doing anything! Maybe she’s just—”

“What?” Abby cut in. “Just being concerned? Just looking out for you? God, Diana, she’s obsessed with you. And you’re too busy defending her to see it.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “So now I’m defending her? That’s ridiculous.”

Abby’s eyes darkened. “Is it?”

I didn’t know why, but that hit a nerve. Maybe because a part of me knew she was right—Ms. Collins had been in my head. But I hated that Abby was the one pointing it out.

“I can’t believe we’re even fighting about this,” I muttered.

Abby let out a dry laugh. “Me neither. But here we are.”

The silence between us felt heavier than any argument.

For the first time since we started dating, I didn’t feel like Abby was my safe place. I felt like we were standing on opposite sides of a battle neither of us knew how to win.

And the worst part?

I didn’t know if either of us would.

The fight turned ugly fast.

We were standing in the hallway, the noise of students moving around us just background static. It didn’t matter. All I could hear was the sharp edge in Abby’s voice and the pounding of my own heartbeat.

“You know what, Diana?” Abby snapped, throwing her hands up. “I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore. You clearly don’t give a damn about what I say.”

I glared at her, arms crossed. “That’s not fair.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t it? Because it sure feels like it. Every time I bring this up, you just brush it off. Like I’m the crazy one. Like I’m imagining things.”

I shook my head. “I never said that.”

“But that’s how you act.” Abby’s eyes burned with frustration. “Like I’m just being some jealous, paranoid girlfriend when all I want is for you to see what’s happening. But you won’t. Because deep down, maybe you like it.”

That made my stomach drop.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Abby took a step closer, voice low but sharp as a knife. “I mean, maybe you like the attention she gives you. Maybe you like the way she treats you differently. Hell, maybe you like the idea of her wanting you.”

My chest tightened. That hurt.

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. “You don’t actually believe that.”

Abby didn’t say anything. She just looked at me. And that silence—like she wasn’t sure—felt worse than anything she could have said.

Anger and hurt tangled in my throat, hot and suffocating. “You know what? Screw this.”

I turned on my heel and stormed off, shoving past students without caring where I was going.

I just needed to get away.

Away from the fight. Away from Abby. Away from everything.

I walked fast, barely noticing the city around me. My head was a mess, filled with too many emotions, too much anger, and hurt. The things Abby said still echoed in my mind, but the worst part was the nagging voice in my head asking if maybe—just maybe—she had a point.

But no. That was ridiculous.

I knew I didn’t have feelings for Ms. Collins. The idea itself was absurd. She was my teacher. She was weird, obsessive even, and yeah, maybe I had enjoyed spending time with her before, but that was different. I liked her in the way you like an interesting person, someone fun to talk to. Not in any kind of romantic way.

That wasn’t what I felt for her.

But Abby?

Abby made my heart race in a way Ms. Collins never could. Abby was the person I wanted to hold, the person whose kisses I craved, whose warmth I never wanted to be without. I really liked Abby.

And now, because of one stupid fight, I might’ve just screwed everything up.

By the time I reached my place, my anger had started to shift into something heavier—regret. I pushed open the front door, ready to just throw myself onto my bed and be alone for a while.

But then I stopped.

The familiar sound of a deep voice carried from the living room.

“Diana?”

I turned the corner, and there he was—my dad, sitting on the couch, looking up at me with a smile. His suitcase was still by the door, like he had just arrived.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, standing up. “Didn’t expect you to come home so early.”

For a second, I just stood there, blinking. My dad had been gone for weeks on a work trip, and I’d barely had time to miss him between everything happening at school. But now, seeing him standing there, acting like everything was normal, made something in me uncoil.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Dad,” I muttered.

And before I could stop myself, I walked straight into his arms.

After a while, I pulled back.

I sat on the couch, my dad across from me, watching me with that familiar look—patient, steady, like he could tell I had a lot to say and was just waiting for me to let it out.

I sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “It’s been... a lot.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You wanna start from the beginning?”

So I did.

I told him about school—how big it was, how different it felt from California. I told him about Chloe and Nora, how they made the adjustment easier, and how Abby was... well, Abby. I told him about how we had this thing going on, how it was good, really good, but how today, we got into this stupid fight.

I didn’t leave anything out.

Except for one thing.

I didn’t tell him about Ms. Collins.

I didn’t mention how she had been acting weird around me for weeks, how she seemed to always be there, how she was trying to separate me and Abby. I didn’t tell him how she seemed too interested in me, how she looked at me like she wanted something more than a teacher should.

That part, I kept to myself.

Instead, I focused on Abby, on how much I liked her, on how I didn’t want to lose her over something dumb.

Dad listened, nodding along, his expression unreadable. When I finally finished, he sat back and let out a thoughtful hum. “Sounds like you really like her.”

“I do,” I admitted.

“And this fight... do you think it’s really about what she said? Or is it something deeper?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to lose her.”

Dad nodded, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then fix it. Talk to her. Don’t let pride get in the way of something important.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

He gave me a small smile. “You’re stubborn, kid, but you’ve got a good heart. If she’s worth it, then fight for her.”

I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in.

A few hours had passed, and I was still curled up on the couch, half-watching whatever show my dad had put on, but mostly just thinking about Abby. About what I should say, how I should fix things.

Then my phone buzzed.

Abby: Meet me at our spot. Please.

I sat up, my heart skipping a beat.

Our spot.

I didn’t even think twice before grabbing my jacket and heading out.

The city air was crisp as I walked, my mind racing. I didn’t know what to expect—if she was still mad, if we were about to fight all over again. But as I got closer, I started noticing little things.

Candles.

Small LED lights strung up in the trees, casting a soft glow.

And then there was Abby, standing in the middle of it all, looking nervous, shifting from foot to foot.

She had set up a blanket with some food—our favorite takeout—and a little speaker playing soft music.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at the effort she had put in.

Abby turned at the sound of my footsteps, her eyes immediately finding mine. There was something vulnerable in her expression, something I didn’t see often.

“Diana,” she said, voice softer than usual. “I’m so sorry.”

I swallowed, stepping closer. “You set all this up?”

She nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. I— I was an idiot. I said things I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. And I hated that. I hated knowing you were mad at me, that I made you upset. I don’t want to fight with you, baby.”

The way she said baby made my heart clench.

I stepped even closer, looking at her properly, really taking her in. She looked nervous, but also so sincere.

“I don’t want to fight either,” I admitted.

Abby reached out, hesitating for just a second before taking my hands. “Then let’s not. Let’s fix this.”

I exhaled, tension slowly leaving my shoulders.

Abby squeezed my hands gently. “Can I make it up to you? Let me spoil you tonight.”

I let out a soft laugh, finally letting myself smile. “You already are.”

And just like that, the distance between us disappeared.

The night unfolded like something out of a dream.

After standing there, holding each other’s hands for a moment, Abby pulled me down onto the blanket, right in the middle of the cozy little setup she had made. The food smelled amazing—our favorite takeout, still warm—and the soft music from the speaker blended perfectly with the distant city sounds.

Abby sat cross-legged beside me, watching me more than eating, her expression softer than usual. “You’re still mad, aren’t you?” she asked, nudging my knee with hers.

I sighed, picking at my food. “I was. But not anymore. I just… I hated the way we fought.”

Abby frowned, reaching over to brush her fingers against mine. “Me too. I don’t ever want to fight like that again.”

There was something about the way she said it, like she meant it with everything she had, that made my chest tighten.

We kept talking, our voices quieter than usual, more careful. About how dumb the fight was, how much we missed each other in just a few hours, how stupid we felt for letting our pride get in the way. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Abby pulled me into her arms, wrapping me up in the warmth of her embrace like she was afraid to let go.

I melted into her without hesitation, resting my head against her chest. Her heartbeat was steady, grounding, and her fingers traced slow, absent-minded circles on my back.

“You’re my girl,” Abby murmured into my hair. “You know that, right?”

I smiled, eyes half-closed. “Yeah. And you’re mine.”

She tilted my chin up, her eyes locking onto mine. “Good.”

And then she kissed me.

Soft, slow, like she was making up for every second we spent apart. Like she was pouring every unspoken word, every apology, every I love you she wasn’t ready to say yet into it.

I kissed her back just as deeply, tangling my fingers in her hair, pulling her closer.

The night stretched on, filled with laughter, whispered promises, stolen kisses. At some point, we ended up lying back on the blanket, staring up at the stars barely visible against the city lights. Abby had one arm draped lazily over my waist, her other hand intertwined with mine.

“I like this,” I murmured.

She turned her head to look at me, smiling. “Like what?”

“This. Us. Being like this.”

Abby grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my temple. “Get used to it, baby. I’m not letting you go.”

I squeezed her hand, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

Neither of us checked the time. Neither of us wanted to.

✂✂✂✂✂✂

The next few weeks were a whirlwind—some of it perfect, some of it not so much.

Abby and I were stronger than ever. She treated me like I was the most important thing in the world, like nothing else mattered. We spent every moment we could together—her arm always around my waist, her lips pressed to mine every chance she got, her protective presence by my side like a promise.

But then, there was Ms. Collins.

She didn’t stop. If anything, her efforts to drive a wedge between me and Abby became even more obvious.

She started separating us more aggressively—moving our seats farther apart, finding any excuse to keep one of us after class. She made sure we weren’t in the same group for projects, always finding a way to keep us from being alone together in the hallways. And the worst part? She made it seem reasonable. It was never direct. Never something we could outright call her out on.

And then, there were the comments.

“You know, high school relationships don’t always last, you and Abby seem to fight more” she’d say casually, eyes flickering to me with something unreadable behind them.

Or worse—“I know it’s hard, but sometimes people grow apart. And that’s okay, Diana. Just know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

I started noticing the way she watched me, like she was waiting for something to happen.

At first, I ignored it. I had Abby, I had my friends, and I had bigger things to focus on. But then, the fights started AGAIN.

Little things at first—Abby getting frustrated when I stayed after class to help Ms. Collins, me rolling my eyes when she got jealous for no reason. Then, bigger things—her accusing me of not noticing how Ms. Collins treated me, me telling her she was being ridiculous. Deja Vu, huh?

“You don’t see it, Diana,” Abby snapped one night as we walked home. “She’s obsessed with you. She wants you.”

I scoffed, shoving my hands in my pockets. “You sound crazy.”

Abby grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. “Are you serious? She’s been ruining our relationship since the start! She—”

“She’s my teacher, Abby. I don’t even care about her like that!”

“Then why do you let her act like this?”

I froze.

I didn’t have an answer.

Because maybe—just maybe—there was a small part of me that had let it slide. That liked the attention, the way she treated me differently. The way she looked at me like I was special.

But I couldn’t say that.

So instead, I pulled my arm free and turned away. “I’m going home.”

Abby didn’t follow me.

And for the first time in weeks, I went to bed feeling like something between us had cracked. Again.

✂✂✂✂✂✂

It was one of those days where everything just felt off.

I sat alone on a bench near the back of the school courtyard, my arms wrapped around my knees as I stared at nothing in particular. My chest was tight, my thoughts a mess. Abby and I hadn’t really talked since our fight, and even though I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, it was. I hated fighting with her.

I barely noticed the sound of approaching footsteps until a shadow cast over me.

“Diana.”

I looked up.

Ms. Collins.

She was dressed neatly as always—black shoes, black jeans secured with a belt, a crisp white blouse with a tie that made her look effortlessly put together. But what really caught my attention was her expression—not the strict, unreadable look she usually wore, but something softer. Concerned.

She didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead, she sat beside me, crossing one leg over the other, hands resting casually on her knee.

“You look miserable,” she stated plainly.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Wow, thanks.”

She smiled slightly. “I mean it. You’ve been off lately. Want to talk about it?”

I hesitated.

Telling Ms. Collins about my problems felt wrong—especially considering the weird tension between us. But at the same time… she was here. She wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing me to say anything. Just waiting.

And somehow, that made it easier.

“It’s just…” I sighed, staring at my hands. “Abby and I had a fight.”

She hummed, like she had expected that answer. “I see.”

I frowned. “What?”

She tilted her head, studying me like she was piecing something together. “I just… wonder if this was inevitable. You two have been so caught up in each other. That kind of passion burns bright, but it can also burn out just as fast.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t want that.”

Her voice was gentle when she responded. “Then why are you sitting out here alone?”

That hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

She let the silence linger for a moment before shifting slightly, just enough that I could feel her presence more. “You know, Diana… you don’t have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.”

I swallowed. “I just—I don’t know what to do.”

Her hand rested lightly on my shoulder—just enough pressure to be comforting, nothing more. “You do, actually. You’re just afraid of the answer.”

I hated how right she sounded.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.

“I just don’t want to lose her,” I admitted.

Ms. Collins was quiet for a beat. Then, her fingers gave the lightest squeeze on my shoulder before pulling away.

“Well,” she murmured, “maybe you need to ask yourself if you already have.”

The words settled deep, making my stomach twist.

She stood up, brushing nonexistent dust from her jeans. “You know where to find me if you ever need to talk.”

And with that, she walked away—her posture relaxed, confident.

I stared after her, her words running over and over in my head.

And I couldn’t tell if she had helped me or just made things so much worse.

However, I had a class so I got up and walked back to my school, straight to the chemistry class. I sat next to my lab partner and cursed under my breath. Everything was just so complicated.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, but I barely heard it. My eyes burned, my throat felt tight, and I kept my head down, gripping my pen so hard my knuckles turned white. I wasn’t going to cry—not here, not in front of everyone. But I was dangerously close.

Students shuffled out, chatting, laughing, completely unaware of how hard I was holding myself together. I stayed seated, taking slow, careful breaths, trying to push everything down.

But Ms. Collins noticed.

“Diana.”

Her voice was firm, but not unkind.

I lifted my head just enough to see her standing by her desk, arms crossed, watching me like she already knew. The classroom was nearly empty now.

“Stay,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

I didn’t fight it. I just sat there, frozen, as the last few students walked out and the door clicked shut behind them.

Ms. Collins sighed, walking over and leaning against the desk in front of me, her tie slightly loosened, her sleeves rolled up like she had already had enough of today. “You almost cried,” she said, matter-of-fact.

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. “No, I didn’t.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Diana.”

I clenched my jaw, staring down at my desk.

A pause. Then—softly, almost too gentle to be her—

“Talk to me.”

That nearly broke me.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around my pen until I finally just dropped it, my hands shaking too much to hold it properly. I hated this. I hated feeling like this. And I hated that she was the one seeing it.

Ms. Collins moved then, pushing off the desk and crouching in front of me so we were at eye level. I refused to look at her.

She sighed, voice lower now. “Diana. You’re barely keeping it together. What happened?”

I exhaled shakily, blinking fast. “It’s just—” My voice cracked, and I hated that too. “Everything. Abby and I aren’t okay, my friends keep asking what’s wrong, and I just—” I shook my head, pressing my palms to my face. “I don’t know what to do.”

Ms. Collins didn’t speak right away.

Instead, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing my wrist before pulling back. “Hey,” she said, softer this time. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

I dropped my hands, my vision slightly blurry, but I could still see the way she was watching me—calm, steady, understanding.

For someone who was usually so strict, so unreadable, she looked… different like this.

She sighed again, standing up straight. “Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

She grabbed a water bottle from her desk and placed it in front of me. “Drink.”

I blinked at it.

“Diana,” she said, more firmly, “when was the last time you ate?”

I hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

Ms. Collins exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple like she was about to scold me but held back. Instead, she reached into her bag, pulled out a protein bar, and handed it to me. “Eat this.”

I hesitated again.

She sighed. “Diana, I will force-feed you.”

That got a weak laugh out of me.

But I took the protein bar.

She nodded, satisfied. “Good.” Then, she walked back around her desk and leaned against it again, watching me. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m not letting you walk out of here until I know you’re okay.”

I exhaled, staring at the protein bar in my hands.

“…Thanks,” I mumbled.

She tilted her head. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips.

She smiled back.

And for the first time today, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t completely alone in this.

After school, I barely heard the final bell ring. My mind was too tangled in everything that had been happening—especially with Abby. It was like we were slipping, piece by piece, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

I found Chloe and Nora waiting for me by my locker, chatting about something I couldn’t focus on. The second I walked up, Chloe frowned. “Diana, you look like you’ve been through hell.”

Nora tilted her head, concerned. “Yeah… what’s up?”

I exhaled, leaning against the lockers. “Me and Abby,” I said flatly.

They exchanged a look.

“…What about you and Abby?” Chloe asked carefully.

I ran a hand through my hair, staring down at the floor. “It’s just… I don’t know. We keep fighting about stupid things, and it’s like—like we’re slipping, you know?” I swallowed, shaking my head. “She gets frustrated with me. I get frustrated with her. And we’re still us, but… it doesn’t feel the same.”

Nora leaned against the locker next to me, crossing her arms. “Are you saying you think you’re breaking up?”

The words hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened. “…I don’t know,” I admitted.

Chloe sighed. “Have you talked to her about this?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the thing. Every time we do talk, we just end up arguing again.” I looked between them, desperate for some kind of answer. “Is this normal? Are we just hitting a rough patch, or is this… the beginning of the end?”

Chloe and Nora exchanged another glance, but this time, neither of them seemed sure of what to say.

Finally, Chloe spoke. “D, relationships are hard. No one is perfect, not even you and Abby. But if it’s starting to feel more like a battle than something good… you need to figure out if this is just a phase or if you’re forcing something that isn’t working.”

I stared at the floor, her words settling into my chest like lead.

Nora nudged me lightly. “Look, I love you and Abby together, but I also love you. And if this is hurting you more than it’s making you happy… you need to be honest with yourself.”

I swallowed hard, blinking quickly. “I don’t want to lose her.”

Chloe sighed, softer this time. “Then fight for it."

I just nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

I walked home alone, the city buzzing around me, but my mind was far away. My heart felt heavier with every step. The whole thing with Abby had been gnawing at me, and Chloe’s words kept echoing in my head. Then fight for it. But what if I didn’t know how?

When I reached home—well, my mansion—I barely glanced at the sleek modern architecture, the glass walls reflecting the setting sun. Normally, I would’ve taken a second to appreciate it, but not today. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of expensive cologne and freshly cleaned marble hitting me immediately.

“Diana?” My dad’s voice carried from the living room. “You’re home early.”

I sighed, dropping my bag by the door. “Yeah, school was… school.”

He was sitting on one of the massive white couches, flipping through some papers—probably work-related. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, expensive watch catching the light. “You okay?” he asked, looking up at me with his usual sharp, assessing gaze.

I hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He didn’t push, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “Well, I ordered some food if you’re hungry. It should be here soon.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He watched me for a second longer before going back to his papers, and I took that as my cue to head upstairs. My feet felt heavy as I climbed the massive spiral staircase, each step echoing slightly.

The moment I stepped into my room, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. The space was just as modern as the rest of the house—huge bed, sleek furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows with a perfect view of the city skyline. But even with all this luxury, I felt… empty.

I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of my room was deafening. My phone was buzzing somewhere in my bag, but I ignored it.

I didn’t want to think.

I didn’t want to feel.

I just wanted to disappear into my blankets and pretend none of this was happening.