The empty classroom was immersed in an oppressive, dusty silence, broken only by intermittent, muffled sobs. You sat huddled in the corner between the closet and the wall, pressing your knees to your chest, as if trying to become smaller, to hide from the whole world. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving salty tracks on your skin and dark spots on the fabric of your school skirt. You buried your face in your knees, trying to muffle your own sobs.

The phone in your pocket vibrated obsessively and incessantly. It trembled as if alive, breaking free from weakened fingers. Each vibration echoed in your temples with a new throbbing pain. They. It was probably them. His friends. The same ones who just an hour ago surrounded you in the hallway, showering you with humiliating ridicule, and he, Xiaojun, stood at a distance with a stone face, not interfering. And now, they were probably sending photos or laughing in the general chat.

With bitter, hysterical hiccups, you finally pulled out your phone. The screen was flooded with notifications. The sender's name made your heart freeze for a moment, and then beat with new, feverish force. Xiaojun.

Him. He decided to finish you off personally? Decided to send something terrible, mocking your humiliation, to finish what his friends started? Your fingers trembled traitorously, barely finding the strength to click on the chat icon.

The messages opened. First, an old correspondence. A line thrown out a week ago, from which my heart sank then:

September 24 How you infuriate me.

And... that's it. Nothing more. Until today.

And under it, a fresh one, sent a few minutes ago:

Today (October 1) Why are you crying? Who offended you?

You froze, your tears suddenly stopping in shock. It wasn’t mockery. It wasn’t malice. It was… a question. Rough, harsh, unsympathetic, but direct. His tone, even his text, suggested not idle curiosity, but some kind of… irritated bewilderment.

He knew. But how? Did he see it from the window? Was he told? Or did he… just hear it?

You stared at the two messages, separated by a week of silence and an abyss of mutual hatred. The first was venomous and familiar. The second was unexpected, rude, but not mean. It didn’t fit the image of a cruel bully that you had built for yourself. A mishmash of resentment, fear, and a nascent, tiny, wary curiosity rose in your head. What did this even mean?

!!idea taken from tik tok @wkdesse!!