Mira took a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling like she was gathering courage from somewhere deep inside. "I will tell the professor the truth about the presentation, about Krystal, about everything. What she did, what I did, how she manipulated me, how I let her."

Bella stared at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. She found none.

Mira continued, her voice trembling but determined. "You do not have to forgive me. I know I do not deserve it. But I need to make it right for myself and for you."

Bella’s throat tightened. She wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in her throat and her mind went empty.

Mira lifted her chin higher, though her hands were shaking at her sides. "I will accept whatever punishment you and the professor give me. You can punish me however you want. I will not complain or make excuses. I just need to do this."

Bella looked at her for a long time. The garden seemed to hold its breath around them. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and careful.

"I need some time."

Mira nodded. She did not say anything. She did not argue, plead, or apologize again. She just fell into step beside Bella, and they started walking together.

They walked past the fountain, its water sparkling in the afternoon light. They walked past the library, where students leaned against the walls, lost in books and conversations. They walked past the cluster of benches where students sat with their laptops and their coffee cups, the smell of roasted beans hanging in the air. Neither of them spoke.

When they reached the courtyard, Krystal was there.

She was standing with her group of friends, all of them dressed in expensive clothes, their hair styled, their makeup flawless. Krystal was in the middle, laughing at something one of them had said, her head tilted back, her smile wide. She looked like she did not have a care in the world.

She spotted Mira, and her face lit up with practiced warmth.

Krystal called out, waving with perfectly manicured fingers. "Mira! We are going to dance practice. Are you free to watch?"

Behind her, her friends exchanged glances. Their smiles did not reach their eyes. They did not like Mira. She did not fit their group standards. Every time they talked, they were almost grossed out by Mira, who did not have style, who did not know how to dress, and who did not even speak clearly half the time. It was annoying.

But they understood why Krystal kept her around. Mira was useful. She gave money when they needed it. She did favors for them during assignments and study-related problems, and they believed she would help them pass this semester. She also listened to Krystal’s problems without ever asking for anything in return. A perfect little doormat.

Mira stopped walking.

For a moment, she did not move or speak. She just stood there, her shoulders back, her chin up. Her whole posture had changed. She was not the same Mira who had hidden behind her glasses and hunched her shoulders to make herself smaller. This Mira stood tall. Then her eyes flashed.

Mira’s voice was clear, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I am sorry, Krystal. I am busy."

She did not wait for a response. She turned and walked toward Bella quickly and took her hand.

Bella’s eyes softened, just a little. She bit her lip, trying to hide the small smile that was threatening to break through. She did not pull her hand away.

Krystal’s smile froze on her face, cracking at the edges like old paint.

Her friends looked at each other, confused. None of them had ever seen Mira say no to Krystal. None of them had ever seen Mira walk away.

Mira did not look back. She led Bella toward the administration building.

The professor’s office was on the second floor at the end of a long, narrow hallway. The walls were lined with student artwork and faded motivational posters that had probably been there since the building opened. The floor tiles were scuffed from years of footsteps.

The door was open.

Inside, the professor sat behind her desk, buried under a mountain of paper. Forms, schedules, costume lists, lighting plans, seating charts, permission slips, and vendor contracts were scattered everywhere. The desk looked like it might collapse under the weight. She wore reading glasses low on her nose, and her hair was escaping from its bun in frazzled strands. She looked like she had not slept in days.

She looked up when they knocked, her eyes tired, her expression impatient.

The professor’s voice was clipped. "What is it? I am very busy. Annual day is in a week. Do you have any idea how many things are left to organize?"

Mira stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. "We need to talk to you about the presentation."

The professor waved her hand dismissively, already turning back to her papers. "Grades are already submitted. It is too late to change anything."

Bella did not look surprised. To be honest, she did not care about the grade at all. That was not why they were here. She just needed credit for her own work.

Bella spoke up. "It is not about grades."

The professor’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Then what is it?"

Mira opened her mouth, but the professor cut her off with a sharp gesture.

"I do not have time for this." The professor turned back to her papers, flipping through a stack of forms with aggressive efficiency. "Come back after annual day. I have seating charts to finalize, a stage to set up, and about a hundred students who all think their problem is the most important one in the world."

Mira spoke, her voice quiet but steady. "Professor, with all due respect, I do not think this can wait until after annual day."

Bella stepped forward, her voice firm but respectful. "Professor, this is important."

The professor slammed her pen down on the desk. The sound echoed through the small office. "Everything is important right now. The dance performance, the stage setup, the guest list, the catering, the lighting. Do you know how many students have come to me with problems this week?" She did not wait for an answer. "Too many. And I do not have the energy to deal with another one."

She looked up at them. "Come back next week."