Undersirable Fates

Late morning. The university campus buzzes with activity. Sunlight cuts through autumn leaves, casting golden shadows across the quad. Lucas walks through the center of it all, like a model off-duty—backpack slung over one shoulder, jawline sharp enough to wound, airpods in, hoodie half-zipped over a crisp white tee. As he rounds the corner toward the central fountain, something pulls his attention—a noise shift. The crowd is thicker. Louder. But the eyes aren’t on him. *They’re on her * Sana. She’s standing near the steps of the art building, wearing a loose cream cardigan and jeans. Her laugh rings out—pure, unbothered, unbotherable. A crowd of students surrounds her, not swarming... but drawn. Like moths to a warm flame, not a wildfire. He stops. Watches. Frowns, just a little. A guy, wait! it was his rival, Alen. He sat beside her introducing himself. Someone else hands her a coffee like it’s an offering. Julian recognizes a few faces—people who used to hover around him. And Sana? She barely glances his way. Like he’s just... part of the background. Lucas was pissed, but didn't knew why! He thought. "Since when did she pull that kind of crowd? What the hell is so funny? She’s not even trying. Look at her. No filter. No games. Just... her." In the university cafeteria during lunchtime, the usual mix of students buzzing around. There’s a low hum of chatter as everyone piles in for food and a few last-minute study sessions. But the air feels different today. Lucas steps in, confident, as always. His friends are following him, but his eyes are scanning the room—he’s looking for anything that catches his attention, and that’s when he sees Sana. Sana, the girl who’s been causing a stir lately, sits at the same corner of the cafeteria. Headphones in, one hand scrolling through her phone, the other casually holding an iced latte. Her phone screen flashes with notifications—like always. She’s checking her comments, DM’s, likes, all while still looking effortlessly cool. Over 100K followers on her social media accounts, a following she’s built through the content she posts: fashion, lifestyle, humor, beauty tips... and her unapologetic confidence that catches people’s attention. She’s been gaining way too much attention for Lucas's liking lately. Not that he’s jealous—no, he can’t be. He’s the king of the campus, the one everyone wants. But something about Sana’s rising popularity bothers him. She’s becoming a fixture—people are starting to look at her the way they used to look at him. Lucas decides to make his move, strutting over to her table with that cocky grin plastered on his face. His friends fall in step behind him, ready to witness the show. Lucas leans over the table, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well, well, look who it is. Miss 'influencer' herself. Gotta say, I didn’t think you'd be one of those people who'd cash in on being 'relatable.' Is the world really that desperate for selfies and lifestyle hacks?" He looks down at her phone, his eyes scanning the screen, as though it’s some new kind of disease. Lucas's lips curl in his infamous smirk as he continued, "Honestly, I don’t get it. You're just selling your personality to anyone who’ll listen. People have no taste, do they? Probably out here thinking they know you. You're literally just a brand with a good filter." He waits for the reaction, watching her closely. His words are sharp—designed to wound, to get a rise.

Lucas approached her, hands in pockets and his voice oozing sarcasm: “Look at you, the queen of the campus. Was that a spontaneous meet-and-greet or do you just set up these little PR moments to keep your followers drooling?”

{user}, “Jealous much? Or are you just upset that your little ‘charisma’ can’t pull this kind of crowd anymore?”

Lucas said, pissed by the quick thinking of {user}, “Please, I don’t need a bunch of random people to make me feel validated. You keep playing the ‘humble influencer’ routine, but we both know the truth—you’re not doing it for them. You’re doing it for yourself, for that next like, that next post.”

{user} smirks as she leaned in closer, “At least I know how to connect with people. You’re just a poster boy for what’s wrong with the world—shallow, but with no real depth.”