A Hallway Ready to Explode
The hallway was already loud, buzzing with student chatter and slamming lockers — but everything went silent the moment Destiny and Hope locked eyes. A glare turned into words, and words turned into a storm ready to rip the hallway open.
Hope leaned forward, arms folded tightly.
“Say it again, Destiny. I dare you.”
Destiny didn’t flinch.
“I said what I said. You don’t run anything around here.”
A circle formed around them, everyone waiting for the first shove.
Just when it was about to spiral into something worse, Isaiah stepped right between them, hands up.
“Enough. Both of you — chill. It’s not worth it.”
But Destiny shook her head sharply.
“Move, Isaiah. This is between me and her.”
“No. I’m not letting either of you get suspended over something stupid.”
His voice cut through the chaos…
until Brooke appeared at the end of the hallway and everything shifted.
Her heart skipped. Isaiah holding Destiny back. Hope glaring. Voices sharp.
And Isaiah — always putting himself in the middle.
She wanted to walk forward.
She wanted to thank him.
She wanted to ask if he was okay.
But Destiny stood inches from him — a barrier Brooke didn’t dare cross.
Isaiah glanced at Brooke for barely a second.
He saw her.
She saw him.
A conversation waited between them…
But Destiny’s presence made it impossible.
Isaiah dropped his hands, stepping back.
“Just leave it. I’m done.”
Brooke watched him walk away, her chest tightening with words she would never say.
Destiny shot her a brief, sharp look — a silent warning.
So Brooke did what she always did.
She stayed silent.
Bethany’s House – Tension at the Door
That evening, Isaiah made the choice he’d been fighting all day.
He went to Bethany’s house — hoping Brooke was there, hoping things could be different.
He knocked.
Once.
Twice.
The door opened.
Brooke’s soft, surprised voice met him.
“Isaiah? What are you doing here?”
“I… I wanted to talk about earlier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Her expression softened. She stepped aside slightly—an invitation.
Isaiah opened his mouth to continue, but—
Destiny stepped into the hallway.
Her eyes locked onto him.
Her whole posture changed.
“Seriously?” she snapped. “You came here?”
Isaiah exhaled.
“I’m not here for you, Destiny. I’m here to talk to Brooke.”
Destiny moved toward him, finger stabbing the air.
“And I’m telling you — you’re not talking to her.”
“Destiny, stop,” Brooke whispered.
But Destiny lifted a hand, silencing her.
“He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Isaiah’s jaw tightened.
“Why are you making this harder?”
“Because I don’t like you,” Destiny shot back.
“And Brooke doesn’t need chaos. Especially not yours.”
Brooke could feel the truth inside Destiny’s anger — protection, fear, loyalty tangled into something sharp.
Isaiah kept his voice steady.
“Let her speak for herself.”
Destiny’s eyes narrowed.
“No. I’m speaking now.”
🔥 A Warning Meant to Hurt
Isaiah tried again.
“I didn’t come to fight.”
“Oh, but that’s exactly what you’ll get if you don’t back up.”
Destiny’s finger jabbed toward his chest like a threat waiting to erupt.
Brooke took a desperate step forward.
“Destiny, please—”
Isaiah raised his voice a bit, frustration leaking out.
“Brooke, I just want to talk.”
Instantly, Destiny moved between them again — arm out, blocking Brooke like a shield.
Her eyes turned cold.
Then she leaned forward and said the sentence that froze the entire house:
“Listen carefully, Isaiah. If I see you near Brooke again — anywhere — there will be no warning next time. And trust me… you don’t want to find out what happens after that.” 🔥
Isaiah’s expression hardened.
He looked past Destiny, straight at Brooke — silent, guilty, hurting.
She couldn’t speak.
And he understood what that silence meant.
🌩 Walking Away… or Walking Into a Bigger War
Isaiah slowly stepped back.
“Fine,” he said quietly.
“Message received.”
He walked out of Bethany’s house, the weight of everything unsaid pressing on his shoulders.
Brooke watched the door close behind him, her heart sinking.
Destiny didn’t say another word.
She didn’t need to.
Her warning hung in the air like lightning waiting for a place to strike.
Isaiah walked into the night — unsure if he was leaving behind a conversation…
or something that had barely begun before someone else ended it.
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