The morning sun was filtering through the tall windows of Whitmore Academy's east wing, casting long lines of light across the polished hallway floors. Students were already drifting between classes, conversations rising and falling in waves. But beneath the usual academy bustle, something darker was simmering — a tension that had not faded overnight, only deepened and coiled itself into every corridor.
Jasmine was walking slowly alongside Lisa. She was gripping the strap of her bag, her steps careful, as though the ground itself might shift if she moved too quickly. Her breathing was steadier than it had been the day before, but her chest still carried the memory of that collapse — the moment her world had crumbled under the pressure of two competing truths.
Lisa was walking just a fraction closer to her than usual, her presence deliberately shielding, protective, but not possessive. She was watching every student they passed, her eyes sharp, prepared for whispers… and the whispers came.
"Is that her?"
"I heard she fainted because of the teacher."
"No, because the other girl confessed—"
"Someone said the admin is investigating—"
Phones half-raised. Discreet glances. Stares that lingered too long.
Jasmine's shoulders tensed. Her fingers trembled.
Lisa leaned in slightly. "Ignore them," she murmured. "Just look at me."
Jasmine nodded, trying, but each step felt like stepping into a spotlight she had never asked for. The hallway seemed to extend endlessly in front of them, like a corridor designed to expose and judge.
When they reached the main staircase, silence fell abruptly.
At the top of the stairs, Madame Nathalie stood waiting.
Her posture was composed — back straight, arms crossed loosely over a stack of documents — but her face betrayed a different story. Something tight around the edges. Dark circles beneath her eyes. A stiffness in her expression that did not belong to her usual confident self.
She held Jasmine's gaze first. Just one second.
It was enough to ignite every rumor in the building.
Jasmine froze. Lisa stiffened beside her, instinctively positioning herself half a step forward, as if she could physically shield Jasmine from the avalanche of attention.
Nathalie descended the stairs with measured steps. Students parted to either side, forming an unconscious aisle. The tension grew so heavy the air felt thick.
When she reached them, Nathalie lowered her voice. "Jasmine. Lisa. I need to speak with both of you."
Jasmine swallowed hard. "Are we… in trouble?"
"No." Nathalie's tone softened, if only slightly. "But we need clarity. And I won't let rumors decide your fates."
Lisa frowned, crossing her arms. "Why both of us?"
"Because this concerns both of you," Nathalie replied, maintaining control. "And because the administration asked for a statement from Jasmine… but I am not allowing that without support."
Lisa's jaw tightened. "Support from who? You?"
Nathalie's composure flickered at the edges. "Yes. From me, if Jasmine wants it."
The hallway erupted with whispers again.
Jasmine's ears buzzed. Her fingers tightened around her bag.
"Stop staring," Lisa snapped at the surrounding students. "Seriously. Get a life."
A few flinched away. Most didn't.
Nathalie looked around sharply. "This is enough. All of you — move." Her tone sliced through the crowd like a blade, her authority reclaiming the space. Students scattered.
But the eyes lingered.
Jasmine looked small, fragile, overwhelmed. She closed her eyes briefly to steady herself. Her thoughts flashed in chaotic bursts — I can't breathe… they're all watching… please stop… She squeezed her hands until her knuckles paled.
Lisa noticed instantly. "Jasmine, hey… look at me," she murmured, her voice warm but urgent. "You're okay. I'm right here."
Nathalie's eyes softened in quiet worry. "Let's step into my classroom," she said. "It's empty for now."
They followed her.
Inside, the door closed, shutting out the noise of the academy. The room was filled with art supplies, canvases, brushes — a space Jasmine usually found comforting. Today, it felt unfamiliar, edged with tension.
Nathalie placed her documents on the desk. "Sit. Both of you."
Lisa remained standing at first, wary, but Jasmine sat down slowly, and after a moment Lisa joined her, though still stiff, still defensive.
Nathalie leaned against the front of her desk, looking at them with a seriousness neither had ever seen in her before.
"What happened yesterday cannot continue," she began. "The rumors are out of control. The administration is concerned. Parents have already called."
Jasmine looked down, anxiety tightening her throat.
Lisa frowned. "They think something happened between you and Jasmine?"
Nathalie nodded once. "Yes."
"And did you tell them nothing happened?" Lisa pressed.
Nathalie's voice was calm but firm. "Of course. I told them I've maintained professional boundaries at all times."
Lisa gave a short, bitter laugh. "They won't believe you after what happened yesterday. After what you said."
Nathalie flinched. "I know my words could be misconstrued. And I regret speaking emotionally in public."
Lisa crossed her arms. "You regret being honest, you mean."
Nathalie inhaled, maintaining composure. "I regret adding fuel to a situation that was already volatile."
Jasmine lifted her head. "Stop… please." Her voice trembled. "Stop fighting. I can't… handle more fighting."
Both women fell silent instantly.
Jasmine took a shaky breath. "I'm the one they talked about yesterday. I was the one who collapsed. And… I'm scared. Every time you two argue, I feel like I'm breaking apart."
Lisa's anger melted into worry. She reached for Jasmine's hand, hesitated, then gently intertwined their fingers.
Nathalie's expression softened, guilt long and deep moving behind her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry, Jasmine. This shouldn't fall on you."
Lisa exhaled, forcing her voice to steady. "Yeah… me too. I was angry. I still am. But you don't deserve to be caught in the middle."
Jasmine closed her eyes, letting the quiet settle.
Then Nathalie spoke again — carefully, deliberately. "The administration wants to meet with all three of us together." She paused. "They want to determine whether the situation is a misunderstanding… or something more."
Jasmine's heart dropped. "More?"
"They mean inappropriate behavior," Nathalie said softly. "And I need to be absolutely clear: I have not behaved inappropriately. But they will examine everything. And Jasmine…" She hesitated. "They may ask questions about your emotions."
Jasmine stiffened. "Questions? About… me?"
"Yes." Nathalie lowered her gaze. "About whether you feel pressured by me. Or influenced. Or—"
Lisa snapped. "She's not pressured! She likes you! That's the whole damn problem!"
Jasmine's cheeks flushed hot. "Lisa!"
Nathalie went still.
Silence expanded, fragile and heavy.
Nathalie's voice, when it came, was barely audible. "Jasmine… is that true?"
Jasmine's breath caught. She stared at her sketchbook on the art table. She could feel Lisa's hand trembling in hers.
She didn't speak immediately. Her emotions were tangled, raw, impossible.
She finally whispered, "I don't know what to call it. But when you look at me… it feels like the world shifts. And I can't control it."
Lisa lowered her head.
Nathalie pressed a hand against her mouth, overwhelmed by the honesty — and the consequences of it. "Jasmine… you can't say that to me. Not here. Not now. It complicates everything."
Jasmine's voice broke. "I know. I'm sorry."
Nathalie stepped back, visibly shaken. "This is why the administration is worried. This is exactly why we need transparency."
Lisa rose abruptly. "Then we'll tell them the truth."
"And what truth is that?" Nathalie asked quietly.
Lisa's voice cracked despite her efforts to sound strong. "That Jasmine is confused. That she cares about both of us. That nothing happened. That you're not manipulating her. That I stupidly exploded yesterday because I love her. And that this academy needs to stop treating emotions like crimes."
Nathalie studied her for a moment — truly studied her — and something in her expression shifted. Respect. Maybe even understanding.
"Lisa," Nathalie said softly, "you're more mature today than you were yesterday."
Lisa shrugged, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Doesn't matter. Damage is done."
Jasmine stood as well, her breathing steadier, her voice gaining fragile strength. "Then let's fix what we can. Together. No lies. No more screaming in public."
Nathalie nodded slowly. "Together."
But the door suddenly burst open.
A secretary from administration stood there, stiff and urgent.
"Madame Nathalie. Jasmine. Lisa. The board is ready for you now."
The board.
All three froze.
The secretary added, "Please bring your things. This may take some time."
The room fell into silence.
Jasmine's heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Lisa swallowed audibly.
Nathalie straightened, gathering her documents with measured calm — but the tremor in her hands betrayed the truth.
"Let's go," she said.
And as they stepped into the hallway together, every rumor, every stare, every tension-filled whisper followed them like shadows.
The triangle was no longer private.
The entire academy was watching.
And the board's judgment awaited.