Mira wouldn’t meet her eyes. Her face was crumpled, her lips pressed together, and her shoulders were hunched. She looked like she wanted to disappear.

Bella’s heart fell. It wasn’t a mistake. Mira had done this.

The room felt suddenly small. The air was thick and heavy, hard to breathe. The chatter of other students faded into a distant hum, and the bright lights seemed to dim. Bella’s hands went cold.

She was drowning. That was the only way to describe it, like water closing over her head, pressing against her chest, filling her lungs. She couldn’t feel her fingers or her face. Sound became muffled and distant, like she was hearing everything from underwater.

Karl stood up, his chair scraping against the floor loud in the silence. "Professor, this is wrong—"

"I said no wasting time." The professor’s voice was sharp. "You can sort this out after. Present now."

Karl looked at Bella. His jaw was tight and his hands were curled into fists. She could see the anger burning in his eyes, but he had no choice.

He walked to the front with heavy footsteps and rigid shoulders. Mira followed with her head down and her glasses slipping down her nose. She didn’t look at Bella. She couldn’t.

Krystal walked past Bella, her heels clicking confidently against the floor. She was wearing a perfectly tailored black blazer, her dark hair sleek, her makeup flawless. As she passed, she glanced at Bella with a quick, sharp look and a small, smug smile. Then she turned away and joined Karl and Mira at the front.

The professor nodded. "Begin."

Krystal stepped forward. She didn’t look at Karl or Mira. She looked at the executives, at the professor, at the room full of students. "Good morning," she said, her voice clear and confident and practiced. "Our presentation is on emerging technologies in medicine, with a focus on prosthetics and surgical innovations."

She clicked the remote, and the first slide appeared. The same slide Bella had created. The same research, the same diagrams, the same carefully chosen words. Krystal spoke like the ideas were her own. She gestured to the slides, made eye contact with the evaluators, and answered questions smoothly. She didn’t stumble or hesitate. She was perfect. One of the executives nodded, and another wrote something on his clipboard, approval, maybe.

Bella watched from her seat. She couldn’t move. Her hands were cold and her chest was hollow. She had done the research. She had made the slides. She had stayed up late perfecting every detail while Krystal was wherever Krystal went.

And now Krystal was standing at the front, taking credit, getting approval, stealing everything Bella had worked for.

Bella looked at Mira. Mira stood to the side with her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes fixed on the floor. She didn’t speak or contribute. She just stood there, small and guilty.

Karl spoke when he had to, his voice tight and his answers short. He didn’t look at Krystal or Mira. He stared at the back wall with his jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides.

The presentation ended. The professor nodded. "Good work, group eleven." She glanced at her notes. "Krystal, your delivery was excellent. Karl, good research. Mira..." She paused, looking at Mira’s bowed head. "More participation next time."

Mira nodded, still not looking up. The evaluators wrote notes, and one of them smiled at Krystal. Krystal smiled back, smug and satisfied.

The group walked back to their seats. Karl sat down hard, his chair creaking. Mira slipped into hers, silent, her face hidden behind her hair. Krystal didn’t sit with them.

She walked to the back of the room where her friends were waiting and accepted their congratulations with a modest shrug.

Bella stared at the front of the room, at the blank screen where her slides had been. She didn’t feel angry or sad. She didn’t feel anything at all.

Karl reached over and took Bella’s hand. His fingers were warm and rough, calloused from football. He held her hand tightly, not letting go, not caring who saw. His thumb moved across her knuckles in slow, steady strokes, a silent reassurance.

Then he looked at Mira. His gaze was long, disappointed, and heavy. His dark eyes were cold and hurt and questioning all at once. He didn’t speak, but his stare said everything.

Mira saw it. Her face fell, and her shoulders shook. She looked away, her hair falling across her face like a curtain hiding her shame.

Karl turned back to Bella. "It’s okay," he whispered, his voice low and meant only for her. The room hummed around them with the professor’s voice, the shuffling of papers, the click of the remote, but Karl’s voice cut through it all. "It’s not your fault. You know that, right?"

Bella didn’t answer. She stared at the front of the room, at the blank screen, at the spot where Krystal had stood and stolen everything.

"You worked so hard," Karl continued, his voice fierce. "You did the research. You made the slides. You stayed up late while she was..." He stopped, his jaw tightening. "You know the truth. I know the truth. That’s what matters. We will tell the professor about this matter."

Bella blinked. Her eyes were heavily watered, glistening, full to the brim.

One tear escaped, just one, sliding down her cheek slow and warm, tracing a silver path through her skin. She tried to blink it away and lowered her eyes quickly, her lashes fluttering, wet and heavy.

She blinked again, desperate to hold the rest back, to keep them from falling, to keep Karl from seeing how much this was breaking her.

But the tear had already fallen. It dropped from her chin onto Karl’s hand. He felt it, hot and heavy and wet, landing on his skin.

His whole body shuddered, a tremor running through him from his fingers to his shoulders to his chest. He had felt many things, the slam of a football tackle, the sting of a bad loss, the cold of early morning practices. But this, this single tear from Bella’s eye falling onto his hand, was worse than any of them.

His soul shuddered.