Chapter 3

With a month left before leaving for abroad, Beatrixa invited her closest friend to dinner.

She arrived early at the restaurant and ordered dishes they both loved.

While fetching a drink, someone accidentally bumped into her.

Caught off guard, Beatrixa fell to the floor.

She wore a skirt, and with a loud rip, the shoulder strap tore, exposing her smooth shoulder and the faint outline of her chest.

The boy who bumped her started to apologize but froze when he recognized her. "Beatrixa? Maverick's chubby neighbor girl?"

Heads turned as people overheard the commotion.

Beatrixa frantically clutched the torn fabric, trying to cover herself.

The stares around her stung like needles, sharp and burning.

The boy noticed her struggle and smirked openly. "You're that heavy and still wear a skirt? Look, you ripped it wide open."

He turned and shouted, "Maverick, come over here! You gotta see this!"

Beatrixa realized Maverick was nearby when she heard the boy call out.

She turned to leave, but the boy blocked her path, refusing to let her go. "Where are you running? Don't you like Maverick? I want him to see you like this and decide if he still cares."

Beatrixa bit her lip, her right hand gripping her skirt tightly as humiliation and shame surged within her.

Desperate to escape, she pushed past him, knocking him to the ground.

Unprepared, he fell, hitting his head and drawing blood.

Touching the blood on his forehead, the boy's eyes blazed with anger. "You fat pig, you dared shove me? You're paying for this, and you'll apologize!"

He grabbed her arm, shouting, "Hey, everyone, look! This fat pig hit me and thinks she can just walk away!"

The crowd's attention turned to her, their gazes filled with disgust and judgment.

Maverick approached from a distance, standing beside a slender, beautiful girl.

Her striking eyes bore a slight resemblance to Beatrixa's, and she held the skirt Beatrixa had been eyeing earlier.

So this was the girl Maverick loved.

Compared to her, Beatrixa felt entirely different-less beautiful, less confident.

Everything she lacked, this girl had.

Beatrixa's eyes stung with unshed tears.

She lowered her head, acutely aware of how pathetic she looked.

As Maverick arrived, the boy exaggerated the story, claiming Beatrixa bumped him, fell, tore her skirt, and then shoved him when he pointed out her weight.

"She's so fat she can't even wear a skirt properly. And she dares to shove me?" he said. "Is it not true? A girl that heavy shouldn't be out embarrassing herself in a skirt."

After hearing the boy's account, Bailee turned to Maverick, her voice soft. "Maverick, Simon's just stating facts. She caused him to get hurt. Asking her to apologize isn't too much, right?"

Beatrixa looked at Bailee, who met her gaze with a faint smile, a flicker of malice in her eyes.

Beatrixa wanted to speak, to explain that he bumped her first, humiliated her, and blocked her way, which forced her to push him.

But her throat felt blocked, the words refusing to come.

She looked up at Maverick, waiting for his response.

His gaze lingered on her, his tone flat. "She should apologize."

Simon clutched his forehead and sneered. "You hear that? Maverick says you need to apologize."

Beatrixa stood frozen, as if doused with cold water, her body chilled to the bone.

She never imagined Maverick, who always protected her, would demand an apology without caring about the truth.

All because Bailee thought she should.

When Beatrixa didn't speak, Maverick's eyes drifted to her torn skirt.

She saw a familiar expression on his face, one that seemed to sigh in exasperation.

It was the look he gave her whenever she messed up, as if she'd caused him endless trouble.

Maverick turned to Simon. "She's like my little sister. If she did something wrong, I'll apologize for her."