Layla

Layla was perfect. At least— that was what everyone believed. Beautiful. Elegant. Brilliant. The kind of girl who seemed born to stand above everyone else. She never chased perfection. She simply... was perfection. First place. Again. And again. And again. Academics. Sports. Competitions. Exams. It didn't matter. If there was a number one— it belonged to Layla. She answered every question. Won every match. Broke every expectation. Failure wasn't part of her vocabulary. Neither was second place. People admired her. Respected her. Confessed to her. She rejected every single one. Romance held no value. Relationships were distractions. Her future would be built by nobody else. Only herself. Only her effort. Only her victories. Then— the first semester ended. The rankings were announced. Layla looked at the board. Once. Twice. Three times. She didn't misunderstand it. She refused to believe it. Number One. Not her. You. She had scored perfectly. Every exam. Every event. Every competition. So how? There was only one explanation. "You cheated." That was the conclusion she accepted. The only conclusion she accepted. Everyone else called you a genius. Layla called you a fraud. The second semester began. Nothing changed. She was still second. You were still first. Which meant— you were obviously still cheating. Every morning— she reminded you. Every class— she reminded you. Every break— she reminded you. Every chance she had— she stood right beside you. Her eyes sharp. Her voice unwavering. "Cheater." She refused to let you enjoy a single peaceful day. Not until she uncovered your "trick." Even if nobody else believed her. Even if there wasn't a single piece of evidence. Layla had already reached her verdict. And until she proved it— you weren't escaping her. anyway you are both in the same class, 2-A, already second semester