I wish to slap some sense into you

"And you, aren't you with her?" Deuce's voice cracked with hurt, his eyes pleading as he looked at Ania. She stood frozen, her heart torn between loyalty and fear, hands reaching out instinctively to help him. But he brushed past her, staggering away, leaving her words trapped in her throat.

Deuce stumbled, exhaustion pulling him down. He leaned heavily against Diana, seeking solace in her presence, but she shoved him away, frustration etched on her face.

"He's not well," Ania spoke softly, her concern evident as she rushed to support Deuce.

"Is it my concern?" Diana's tone was sharp, cutting through the tension. "He brought this upon himself. Are you with him or with me?" Her gaze bore into Ania, demanding a choice.

"Do you want me to..." Diana's threat hung in the air, and Ania hesitated, torn between her loyalty to Deuce and the weight of Diana's displeasure.

"I-I'm with you," Ania finally managed to say, her voice barely audible. With a nod, she turned away from Deuce, leaving him slumped on the ground, abandoned and hurting.

"God, please send someone to help me. I'm dying," Deuce's desperate plea filled the room. Suddenly, a figure appeared, ethereal and comforting, lifting Deuce gently and carrying him away to the infirmary.

---

The teacher's entrance broke the tense atmosphere in the classroom.

"No one has died in this school. Spread rumors like that and you'll pay the price," the teacher's voice was stern, commanding respect from the students who nodded solemnly.

"We have a new student today, though you've likely already seen him around. Come in, Deuce," the teacher's attempt at normalcy clashed with the uneasy tension in the room as Deuce limped in.

"Oh my! Why is he here? He's a scholar; he should be in the other class," a girl's disdainful comment rippled through the room, aimed directly at the wounded Deuce.

"I think it's fine. He can take the position of the dead girl. Welcome," Diana interjected, her smile masking the disdain in her eyes.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Deuce," Deuce introduced himself, hoping to find acceptance amidst the snickers and laughter that greeted him.

"Look at his shoes! They're knockoffs. He must come from a poor family," the whispers spread like wildfire among the students, their judgment cutting deep into Deuce's already wounded pride. Diana's sudden slamming of her hand on the table silenced them all.

"Take your seat," the teacher's instruction was a welcome relief as he exited the room, leaving Deuce to navigate the hostile stares and snickers. He limped over to an empty seat next to Diana, hoping for some respite, but as he attempted to sit down, Diana moved the chair with deliberate force, causing Deuce to stumble and fall. Laughter erupted from the students, harsh and mocking.

"I'm here to study. Let's all just focus on our work," Deuce's voice wavered slightly as he picked himself up and sat down, trying to ignore the humiliation burning in his cheeks.

"Hello, I'm Deuce," he attempted once more to bridge the gap, but Diana's icy response cut through the air.

"You still haven't learned, have you?" Diana's words were laced with contempt, her eyes challenging him to respond.

"What are you, really? I don't hit women, but you're pushing it," Deuce's frustration boiled over, his hand raising instinctively before he caught himself. Diana flinched, eyes squeezed shut in fear.

"So you're scared too?" Deuce's voice softened, his anger dissipating as he withdrew his hand. "No matter what, I could never lay a hand on a woman," Deuce declared with quiet resolve, meeting Diana's startled gaze as she opened her eyes.

"You should have tried it. You'd be in jail by now," Diana's defiance returned, her eyes narrowing in defiance.

"I almost wish I had slapped some sense into you," Deuce muttered bitterly under his breath.

"The teacher is coming. Everyone, back to your seats," the class prefect's voice cut through the tension as the teacher and Diana entered.

"Good day, class. How is everyone today? New boy, I'll need to see you after class," the teacher's gaze settled on Deuce, who nodded silently.

"Everyone, take out your textbooks," the teacher instructed, and the rustle of books filled the room, except for Diana's.

"No textbook?" Deuce's question was almost gentle, but Diana's glare silenced him.

"Mind your own business. And another thing, don't talk to me ever again. I hate you," Diana's outburst was raw with hurt and rejection, her voice echoing across the room.

"Diana, stand up!" the teacher's command was met with defiance from Diana, who crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Why should I?" Diana's voice dripped with disdain, challenging the teacher's authority.

"I said, stand up!" the teacher's patience wore thin as he moved towards Diana.

"Just stand, Diana," Deuce's whispered plea was lost in the storm of anger.

"Don't talk to me, you church rat!" Diana's insult cut deep, her eyes flashing with fury as she stood her ground against the teacher's authority.

"What will you do? I'm not standing," Diana's defiance was palpable, her gaze locked with the teacher's in a silent battle of wills.

"You're being disrespectful. Come with me," the teacher's voice rose sharply, his patience at an end as she reached for Diana's ear.

"Are you insane? How dare you!" Diana's fury exploded as she pushed the teacher away, sending her crashing to the floor. Deuce's eyes widened in shock, his instincts kicking in as he rushed to help the fallen teacher.