She wasn't crying because Bianca had humiliated her, not entirely. She was crying because she had only one pair of school shoes because she couldn't afford another pair, not by tomorrow, and she knew that the school wouldn't make an exception for someone like her. Rules were rules, strict, unbending, and designed for those who would meet them without a second thought. And she couldn't break the rules. She never could. She wouldn't be let inside the school.
Her fingers curled around the shredded remains of her ruined shoe, her grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. It had been deliberate, the way Bianca had done it, a calculated move meant to remind her of her place in the school. And now all she could do was sit here, trapped in her own helplessness. She had to pull herself together. The next class was about to begin. Forcing herself to sit up, she reached into her bag, pulled out a small mirror, and took in the damage.
Puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and tangled hair- evidence of her weakness laid bare before her. She inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as she wiped her face with trembling fingers. Her hands smoothed over her hair, combing through the strands, tucking them neatly behind her ears. By the time the first students began filling the room, she was seated upright, composed, and unreadable. No one could know, no one would know.
The lesson passed in a blur, the words on the board nothing more than meaningless scribbles. Elara didn't bother taking notes. She kept her head down, arms crossed, gaze fixed on her desk, waiting for time to slip by unnoticed. The lecturer didn't call on her. He barely even looked her way.
Damien never returned. Not that she wanted him to. It was better that the seat next to her was empty and not occupied by someone who would intimidate her. She would feel embarrassed by the disdain he has in his eyes. The rich and privileged were able to skip classes, but she? No, her scholarship needed her to be more of a book warmer.
By the time the lecturer left the class, students rushed to pack their things, eager to leave. She remained seated, waiting until the classroom emptied. She then stood and moved cautiously, careful with each step. She didn't want to draw attention to herself, but the news had already spread to other faculties, so it was hard to mask her predicament.
She hesitated near the door, staring down at the dirty white fabric covering her left foot. It was pathetic, the way it clung to her skin, already stained from the dust and grime of the floor. The thought of walking hide like this made her stomach churn, but she didn't have a choice. The school bus was out of the question. She wouldn't be allowed on board without a full uniform, and she didn't have the energy to plead for an exception. Either way, she wouldn't be let in. Her fingers curled into fists, she would just have to walk home.
*****
Damien had not meant to wait for her, it had just happened. He had spent the last hour in his car, staring at the clock, ignoring every instinct that told him to drive away. Then he saw her. Elara dragged herself forward, her posture stiff, her head slightly bowed as she navigated through the sea of students, who were looking at her as she passed, dome laughing, others looking at her leg that had no shoe on.
His gaze flickered downward, catching the way her left foot barely lifted from the ground, her sock-once white noe streaked with dirt. His jaw tightened. Was she actually planning to go home like this? A muscle in his cheek twitched. It was stupid. She was acting stupid. Why couldn't she stand up for herself? She gave more class and charisma than any other person he had seen so far, when he had seen her alight the bus in the morning, she looked like she was from a rich family from the way she talked and how she carried herself, how could she be bullied?
Before he could stop himself, he was already moving, the car door slamming shut behind him as he crossed the parking lot in quick strides.
"Elara?" She froze looking at him, but didn't say anything.
"Get in the car, I'll take you home," he said calmly. She stumbled, eyes widening in shock. How did he even know her name? But then she remembered that almost everyone knew her name here.
"No...I'll..." she couldn't finish when he reached forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her towards the car. Her body tensed between his grip as if she wanted to resist, but after a brief second of hesitation, she let herself be dragged along, not wanting to create a scene.
Silence hung thick between them as the car sped down the road, the engines gum the only sound filling the space. Elara sat stiffly, arms on her thighs, gaze locked on the passing scenery. Damien kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched, fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
When he finally pulled up in front of a high-end boutique, she stiffened. He then got out of the car, opened the boot, and gave her some slides to wear.
"Where are we going,?"" She asked but he gave her eyes that meant that she should stay quiet. She was hesitant to get out of the car but he pulled her out, dragging her to the boutique. Inside, the atmosphere shifted the moment they entered.
A saleswoman approached them. The woman's smile was overly polite. "Right this way....." she showed them ahead.
"Choose any shoe that you want" Damien ordered her. She was a bit hesitant, but his eyes spoke louder than his mouth, and she was forced to walk forward. She saw the shoes that resembled hers, and she then checked the price. She walked back to Damien immediately, standing on her toes to reach to his ears.
"They are too expensive, can't we check for a cheaper store? This is a designer store..." she whispered. Damien looked at her and then walked to the saleswoman.
"Those ones, we'll take five pairs." Elara was surprised; the saleswoman, too, seemed surprised but happy at the same time.
"Are you sure sir? The same color?" She asked and Damien nodded, handing her a black card, and she couldn't even ask another question.
She had expected that after this he was going to take her home but the direction the car was heading to said something else.
"My apartment is in the other direction....." she said in a low tone. She had noticed that he got upset so quickly and didn't want to risk being thrown out of the car like some baggage. He didn't say anything and her hands started trembling.
"Relax. ..." he had seen her hands shaking and she was trying to hide it. He pulled up in front of a grand hotel. She swallowed hard when he got out of the car and she remained inside. He then stood for some seconds, waiting for her to get out, but she remained seated in the car.
"Are you coming or not? " He had opened her door, and she nervously got out. The hotel doors loomed ahead, the golden glow of the lobby spilling out onto the sidewalk.
She was scared to even take a step forward. He looked at her, and upon realizing it, he took her hand. She looked at him, well enough now. His sharp Korean-like features made him devastatingly handsome, the kind of beauty that would turn heads without effort; even now, in the soft lighting, he looked almost unreal. Her small hand felt like a baby's in his own hand.
A waiter appeared and directed them to a table. This was a luxurious hotel, elara herself felt embarrassed to even look at the menu. She had never been to a such kind of place before. She got so numb that she couldn't even talk.
"What would you like to order?" the waitress asked Damien.
"Just some water," he replied. Then she turned to Elara. "What about your girlfriend?" she asked. Damien shot her an annoyed look, his eyes narrowing.
"She's not my girlfriend..." he said sharply, not even bothering to listen as she apologized.
The waitress then approached Elara with a warm smile. "What about you? What can I get you?"
"Water... I'll have water too... yeah," Elara said, smiling. If Damien was ordering water, she would do the same. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of him.
"Get the menu and order food," Damien said, almost like a command. Elara immediately took the menu and started browsing, hoping to find something she would like. Then she spotted it.
"Kimchi fried rice with an egg and a matcha latte..." she said, sounding unsure.
"Oh wow, I guessed right! You are Korean, aren't you? The beauty says it all... Anyway, I'll be right back with your orders," the waitress said, walking away.
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