Chapter 8:
All Eyes On Her

The morning sun slanted through the tall frosted glass windows of the university's main hallway, gilding the polished marble floors and catching the dust motes dancing in the air-but Hannah barely noticed the light. Usually, this corridor was just a rush of bodies: students hauling heavy textbooks, friends laughing over morning coffee, professors checking their watches as they hurried to lecture halls. She was always just another face in the crowd, invisible enough to slip through without a second glance, just another scholarship student juggling too many jobs and too little sleep.

Today was different.

The moment she stepped through the double doors, the shift was instant and undeniable. Conversations died down to hushed, breathless murmurs the second she came within ten feet. Groups of girls clustered by the lockers leaned in close to one another, hands flying up to cover their mouths, their eyes darting from her face down to the glowing screens of their phones and back again, fast and bright with unmasked curiosity. Some pointed subtly, then quickly looked away when she caught their gaze, pretending to be busy with their bags or their notes. Others didn't even bother to hide it-they just stared, openly, whispering names she couldn't quite make out, names that made her stomach twist into a tight, anxious knot.

Hannah's steps slowed. She pressed a trembling hand to her cheek, patting here and there, checking for smudged ink or leftover sauce from the instant noodles she'd eaten for breakfast. She ran her fingers through her wild, unruly curls, trying to smooth them down, tucking stray strands behind her ears only for them to spring right back out again like they had a mind of their own. She straightened the collar of her uniform shirt, tugged at the hem of her skirt, checked her shoelaces twice, even ran a quick hand over her backpack strap to make sure nothing was torn or out of place. Everything looked exactly as it should-messy, ordinary, hers. So why was everyone looking at her like she'd just walked in wearing a crown, or a prison sentence?

As she kept walking, the pattern became clearer and more unsettling. Almost every single person she passed had their phone in their hand. They'd glance at the screen, then glance at her, then nudge the person beside them and whisper again. A cold prickle of dread crawled slowly down her spine, settling heavy at the base of her neck. Is that... a picture of me? she wondered, her heart beginning to hammer against her ribs. What on earth is going on? Did I do something wrong? Did someone see me leaving the penthouse yesterday? She wanted to stop, to grab someone's arm and demand to know what they were looking at, wanted to shout, What is it?! Just tell me! But shyness and fear clamped tight around her throat, stealing her voice. She just lowered her head further, hunched her shoulders, and hurried her steps, trying to make herself smaller, trying to disappear into the background like she always had.

What is everyone's problem with me today? she asked herself again and again, the question looping in her mind as she neared the building where her first class was held. I didn't do anything. I just went to work, cleaned floors, argued with a rich boy about being messy, and went home. That's all.

She rounded the final corner toward the lecture hall, and there-right by the heavy wooden doors-was Quia, her best friend and new blockmate this semester. Quia was pacing back and forth in quick, restless strides, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her phone gripped tight in her other hand. Every few seconds she'd glance down at the screen, then snap her head up to scan the hallway, like she was waiting for something impossible to arrive. When her eyes finally landed on Hannah, she froze for half a second, then practically bounced off the floor with excitement.

"Girl!" Quia called out loud enough for heads to turn their way again, rushing over in three quick steps and landing a solid, enthusiastic smack on Hannah's shoulder.

"Ouch!" Hannah yelped, stumbling a little under the force of it, and rubbed the stinging spot as she dragged her heavy backpack off her shoulders and dropped it onto the desk at their usual spot near the back. "What was that for? You nearly knocked me over! What is going on with everyone today? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Quia grabbed her by both shoulders, shaking her gently but urgently, her dark eyes wide and sparkling like she was holding the juiciest, most unbelievable secret in the whole world. "Why didn't you tell me?! You actually know Arthur Chen?! Arthur Chen-the Arthur Chen? The heir to that huge restaurant empire, the guy every magazine and blog in the country talks about?!"

Hannah's mind went completely, utterly blank. Her mouth fell open and stayed that way, her brain scrambling to catch up with the words. "Huh? How-how do you know that? I don't-we're not-"

"Know it? Everyone knows it by now!" Quia laughed, waving her phone in the air like it was a trophy, drawing more glances their way. "It's been trending on the university page since six this morning! He's the most famous guy on this entire campus! Everyone knows who Arthur Chen is!"

"Wait-slow down!" Hannah shook her head hard, growing more confused and more alarmed by the second, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "What are you talking about? I don't know him like that! I barely even-"

"Girl, have you even opened your Instagram today?" Quia leaned in closer, her voice dropping to an awestruck, urgent whisper, glancing around to make sure no one else overheard even though everyone was already looking.

"Instagram? Why?" Hannah frowned, already reaching into her skirt pocket for her own phone, her fingers brushing the worn plastic case. "I haven't checked it since last night. I was too tired."

"He followed you." Quia's eyes went even wider, her hands tightening around Hannah's arms. "Arthur Chen followed you. And get this-everyone's been checking his account. You're the very first girl he's ever followed on his verified account. Ever. Not a single model, not a single socialite, not one of the girls he's been linked to in the papers. Just you."

Hannah's phone slipped right out of her suddenly limp fingers. It hit the edge of her desk with a soft, dull thud, and she just stared at it like it had grown teeth and started speaking another language. Her jaw dropped so far she was sure it would ache later, her breath catching in her throat so sharply it hurt.

What? That's impossible. He didn't even know my name yesterday! How could he find me? Why would he look for me?

That was it. That was exactly why everyone had been staring, whispering, checking their screens. The whole university had seen it. The whole campus was buzzing with it, dissecting it, wondering who on earth the curly‑haired scholarship student was to catch the eye of Arthur Chen.

"Quia, that can't be right!" Hannah said quickly, her voice rising in panic as she snatched up her phone, her fingers trembling so badly she nearly dropped it again. "I don't even know him! Not properly! I swear!" The lie came out fast, sharp and desperate, but it was the only thing she could say. Why on earth would she ever want to be linked to someone like him-rich, famous, a known playboy, the fantasy of half the girls in the university? It could only bring unwanted attention, jealous stares, questions she couldn't answer, and danger she couldn't afford. "It must be a mistake! Maybe he just pressed the wrong button by accident! That's all! Some kind of glitch!"

She fumbled with the screen, typing in her password three times before she got it right, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. The app loaded slowly, agonizingly slow, and then there it was-plain as day, bright and undeniable, right at the very top of her notifications: Arthur Chen started following you. Beside his name sat the little blue verified checkmark, glowing like a spotlight. She tapped his profile on instinct, and her stomach dropped right through the floor-his account was real, his posts were public, and there, right at the very top of his following list, was her own small, unpolished profile.

She stared at those words until they blurred together. Why did that idiot follow me?! What is he doing? Doesn't he realize how much trouble this will cause for me?

Quia leaned over her shoulder, her arms crossed now, looking completely unconvinced by every single word Hannah had said. "An accident? Really? Arthur Chen doesn't make clumsy little mistakes like that, girl. Not with random students. Not with you. Rich guys like that have people managing their accounts. They don't just 'accidentally' follow girls they don't know."

Hannah sank heavily into her chair, clutching her phone tight to her chest like it might protect her from all the eyes still watching, still whispering, still wondering exactly what she was to him. She thought of the way he'd looked at her yesterday, the way he'd hesitated like he wanted to say something more, the way he'd promised he'd get Disha's autograph. She thought of the single curl he'd tucked away, the way he'd stayed home from his party just to sit in an empty penthouse and look for her. And suddenly, she knew-this wasn't an accident.

It was him. And she had no idea what on earth she was going to do about it.