Persephone had never experienced rejection before. It had always been the other way around—she was the one doing the rejecting. The unfamiliar sting of waiting, of hoping for a response from a certain someone, but never came, hurt her pride.
Yvannah, ever the sharp observer, had teasingly commented that she looked like a dejected puppy, sulking over a misplaced toy.
This wasn't a feeling Persephone was accustomed to—being ignored, rejected, or whatever this was. It hurt her confidence in ways she didn't want to admit. And it certainly didn't help that whispers around campus painted an embarrassing picture of her "pining" for the school nerd, fueling the gossip mill with stories of the untouchable Head Girl finally meeting her match.
Persephone wasn't just frustrated; she was bewildered. It was a new kind of vulnerability, one she didn't know how to navigate. And worse yet, she wasn't entirely sure if she hated it or secretly craved it.
