I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 12

She tilted the bottle back again, swallowing until the last drop was gone, the silence around her ringing with the unspoken certainty that this game-whatever it was between them—had only just begun.

***

The lecture hall hummed with a low murmur of voices, the shuffle of notebooks and pens echoing off the white walls. Rania sat at her usual place—front row, slightly to the left—her posture straight, her glasses glinting faintly under the fluorescent light. Evan stood at the lectern, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a marker in his hand as he outlined the principles of research methods in psychology.

His voice was steady, firm but engaging. When he posed a question, Rania’s hand went up, confident and precise, her answer always cutting through the haze of half-baked responses from her classmates.

Evan’s eyes lingered a moment longer on her than necessary, his approving nod subtle but noticed. And that was all it took.

By the time Rania closed her notebook and made her way to the lockers, the whispers were already trailing after her like shadows.

"Laurent’s favorite."

"Of course—look at how he calls on her."

"She’s not listening, she’s flirting."

At first, Rania ignored them. But when she reached her locker and heard the low laughter of three women just a few feet away, their voices deliberately louder, she turned. “Do you know what you’re talking about?” Her tone was calm, but her eyes were sharp. “That’s shameless. Mr. Laurent’s favorite? Shouldn’t it be said instead that I’m active in the lecture, that I listen carefully? Not that I’m flirting?”

The three exchanged glances, eyebrows arching in mock amusement. One of them smirked. “Bitch, are you saying we’re the ones flirting during his class?”

Rania’s lips curved into a slow grin. She removed her glasses deliberately, folding them with care, before stepping closer. Her heels clicked softly against the tiles, each step making the three girls retreat without realizing it.

“What do you want? That I prove to you—by the way you dress, by the way you act—how flirty you really are in class?” Her voice was low, almost silky, but it carried an edge that cut deeper than a shout. “I see you. I hear you. You know the school’s policy. No CCTV. But don’t fool yourselves—there are always eyes watching, ears listening.”

“Bitch!” the tallest snapped, her voice cracking with false bravado. “What are you capable of, huh?”

Rania tilted her head. “I’m just warning you. Fix yourselves before you embarrass yourselves further. Spreading lies without evidence—it will only shame you.”

She turned, slipping her glasses back on, and began walking down the hallway. For a moment, it seemed the confrontation was over.

Then a hand yanked her hair backward. “Bitch, don’t you dare walk away from us!” one of them snarled. “You don’t know who you’re messing with! Who are you to threaten us? You’re nothing but a lonely freak!”

The corridor erupted. Students gasped, voices rising in excitement and disbelief as the commotion escalated. “You think you’re better than us? You’re not! At least we’re independent, not like you—quiet, pathetic, broken! What, did your parents not love you enough? Is that why you’re such a loner?”

Something inside Rania snapped.

Her fist clenched, the words burning through her restraint. The insult against her parents, the casual cruelty—her blood roared in her ears. Before she could stop herself, she seized the girl’s hair, her strength surprising even herself, and slammed her against the wall. The crack of impact silenced the crowd for a heartbeat before screams filled the air. “Rania!” Avery’s voice pierced the noise. Chelsea followed, both pushing through the students. But it was too late.