“Life is ten percent what happens to us and ninety percent how we react to it. Before blaming life for its unfairness, consider how you’re responding to the challenges thrown your way. Are you facing them with resilience, dignity, and strength? Or are you drowning in resentment, weighed down by melancholy?”
---
— Aiden –
The document on my desk bore a name in bold letters: Lucas Denmark.
I flipped it open without hesitation, skimming through the pages. Certain words jumped out at me—
Racist.
Gender discrimination.
Sadist.
Bully.
Philosopher.
As I read, one question gnawed at me: How is this man still a university lecturer despite these allegations?
The answer was obvious. Connections. Influence. A shield woven from power and privilege.
But none of that gave him the right to bully my baby girl.
I jotted a few notes in my journal before shifting into action.
A quick message summoned my assistant, who arrived almost instantly—swift and efficient, just as I expected.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Send two of our secret guards to the university. Have them keep a close eye on Lucas Denmark. I want reports on anything unusual.”
His posture shifted, hesitation flickering across his face. I anticipated his next question.
“Why, Boss?”
It was a fair inquiry, and his concern ran deeper than duty.
“You’ll know soon enough. For now, just do as I say, Kay?”
“Alright, Boss.” He bowed and left without further questions.
I was about to return to my documents when another thought struck me. Reaching for my phone, I typed out two messages.
Aiden: Hey, love! Hope your second day at university is going great. Take care, okay?
The next was for Mary.
Aiden: Petit Soeur, I hope your day is going well. Call me once your lectures are over, Kay?
Mary’s response arrived almost instantly.
Mary: Salut, Grand frère. My day is good! Just finished my lectures. Sis told me not to wait for her—she has classes till 4 PM—so I’m heading to my apartment now.
Aiden: Alright then. Stay safe, okay?
Mary: I will. Thank you!
Setting my phone down, I exhaled. Mary was safe. She had security. She was in familiar territory.
But Malisa…
Something in my gut told me I shouldn’t worry. Maybe I was overthinking.
Or maybe I wasn’t.
Because how could I not worry?
---
– Malisa –
My next class was Music Theory, meaning I’d be with the same students as yesterday.
And that made me nervous.
As if sensing my unease, Rey spoke up.
“I heard you were bullied yesterday, Lisa.”
I blinked at her. “How did you know that?”
“News like that spreads fast in a place like this.”
I hesitated, then admitted, “Yeah… I was.”
She stopped walking, so I did too. “Feeling nervous?”
“A little.”
She smiled. “That’s normal. But you’ll be fine. Completely fine.”
I wanted to believe her. “Yeah… I hope so.”
“Hey, you will.” She draped a comforting arm around me, and for the first time, I noticed I was a foot taller than her. It almost felt like I was the one offering comfort.
“I think the class president has something against me,” I muttered, remembering the glare he’d shot me earlier.
Rey smirked. “He probably likes you.”
I scoffed. “No, he doesn’t.”
We both laughed.
---
The moment I stepped into the classroom, silence fell.
Expected.
But this time, I refused to let it rattle me. Keeping my head high, I chose a seat in the middle row and focused on preparing for the lecture.
Minutes later, the professor arrived.
A stout man with outdated clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen a washing machine in over a week. His entire presence reminded me of old-school teachers from the nineties.
“Salut, Professeur,” the class chorused, myself included.
I settled into note-taking until a familiar voice rang from the doorway.
“Salut, Professeur.”
My heart clenched. I didn’t even need to look. I already knew.
The professor turned. “Who are you?”
“John MacLean, Monsieur. I’m in this class.”
“Latecomers are not tolerated here.” His tone was firm. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Understood. Merci beaucoup, Monsieur.” John bowed and turned, scanning the room.
I prayed he wouldn’t sit near me.
But God ignored my prayer.
He strolled straight to my row, slid into the seat beside me, and leaned close.
“Hello, Blackie.”
My fingers curled into fists. His voice was low enough for only me to hear, but the mockery in his tone was unmistakable.
I clenched my jaw. Stayed silent.
John chuckled. “No response? Well, two can play this game.” His smirk was laced with something sinister.
I snapped. “What do you have against me?”
He leaned back, feigning innocence. “First, you’re Black. Second, you’re a woman.”
My breath caught. “What do you mean by that?”
The sharpness of my voice sliced through the classroom air.
Too loud.
Too obvious.
The professor’s head whipped toward me.
“You. Stand up.”
Dread curled in my stomach. I rose shakily. “Monsieur—”
“Get out of my class. Now.”
Shock rippled through me. The class fell silent. I heard a few gasps.
“Mais, Monsieur—”
“Maintenant!” His voice thundered, leaving no room for argument.
My hands trembled as I gathered my belongings, each movement feeling unbearably heavy.
As I stepped out, John’s voice followed me like a shadow.
“Bye for now, Blackie.”
The door shut behind me.
And I stood there, devastated.
Why did this have to happen again?
Why?
---
A/N: What do you think, guys?