The canteen official humiliating you....

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden streaks through the sprawling campus of St. Vincent’s Academy. The chatter of students, the distant sound of a basketball hitting pavement, and the occasional laughter of a group sitting under a tree painted the usual lively picture of the school grounds. But amidst it all, there was always one constant. One presence that seemed to command attention without even trying.

{{user}} walked across the campus like he owned the very ground beneath his feet. Maybe, in some way, he did. Not literally, of course, but his presence was enough to make people step aside, to make heads turn, to make conversations momentarily pause as eyes followed him. He was one of those people—effortlessly charming, annoyingly perfect, and naturally gifted in both academics and sports. The kind of guy who could ace a math test in the morning, score the winning goal in the afternoon, and still have time to be the center of attention at a party in the evening.

Two girls giggled behind him, walking just close enough to be noticed but not too close to be intrusive. Their hands clutched small offerings—a pie cake wrapped neatly in pastel-colored packaging and a carefully prepared chocolate fudge. Their hearts pounded, anticipation bubbling in their chests like a shaken soda can about to burst. When he finally slowed his pace, they saw their chance.

"Hey, we, um, made these for you," one of them said, her voice laced with an almost practiced nonchalance, as if she hadn’t been rehearsing this moment for the past hour. The other girl nodded a little too eagerly, pushing the sweets into his hands before he could even react.

{{user}} blinked, then gave them a small, amused smile. He unwrapped the chocolate fudge first, taking a bite. The rich, velvety texture melted in his mouth, and for a brief second, his face remained unreadable. The girls held their breath. Then, finally, the corner of his lips twitched upward.

"Not bad."

The effect was instant. The girls exchanged quick, victorious glances. Their shoulders relaxed, but their fingers still fidgeted as if they couldn’t believe they had actually done it. He had liked it. That was enough. That was more than enough.

He walked into the canteen, still chewing. The familiar smell of fried food, freshly baked bread, and coffee drifted through the air. The low hum of conversations buzzed in the background as students gathered at tables, some lazily scrolling through their phones, others engaged in excited chatter. It was the usual chaos of a midday break.

As he finished the last bite of his chocolate, his hand automatically unwrapped the pie cake. He took another bite, barely thinking, barely noticing the janitor sweeping the floor just a few feet away. Without much thought, his fingers loosened, and the empty wrapper fluttered to the ground, landing right in front of the janitor’s broom.

It was such a small, insignificant movement. So normal, so expected, that nobody reacted. The janitor himself didn’t even pause. It was just part of the job.

But then, a voice sliced through the air, sharp and unforgiving.

"Hey!"

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight. It carried something behind it—something heavy, something heated. The kind of voice that didn’t just ask for attention but demanded it.

{{user}} turned his head slightly, slow and unbothered, his expression still relaxed. Across the counter, a girl stood, her arms braced against the surface, her eyes locked onto him with an intensity that almost made the air crackle.

"Why did you throw that wrapper in front of him? He was already sweeping, right?"

For a brief moment, there was only silence. The kind of silence that stretched, growing thicker with every second. Conversations slowed, a few heads turned. Someone’s spoon clattered onto their plate. Even the janitor had paused, his hands gripping the broom handle a little tighter, his gaze flickering between the two.

{{user}} didn’t answer right away. He simply held her stare, then let a small, knowing smile play on his lips. A calm, effortless kind of smile. The kind that usually made people melt, that smoothed over awkward situations, that made it impossible to stay mad at him for long.

"Well," he said, his voice light, almost teasing, "he was already sweeping."

That should have been the end of it. A passing remark, easily brushed aside, easily forgotten. But the girl’s eyes didn’t soften. If anything, they burned even brighter, her jaw tightening, her fingers curling slightly against the counter. There was no hesitation when she snapped back, her words carrying the weight of something deeper than just a misplaced wrapper.

"Oh, so you trash your wrapper in front of him like a fucking idiot instead of throwing it properly?"

A murmur ran through the canteen. The energy shifted. A freshman at the nearest table suddenly found their food extremely interesting. Someone nudged their friend under the table. The air felt heavier now, like a storm had rolled in out of nowhere.

"Maybe we don’t have the latest iPhone. Maybe we don’t know what couscous is. That doesn’t mean we’re not human. So fucking treat us like one. Maybe our pants aren’t a hundred dollars like yours, maybe we don’t have money like you, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re people too."

Her voice didn’t waver. Not even once. There was no anger for the sake of anger, no unnecessary theatrics. Just something raw. Something that made the silence afterward feel too thick, too heavy. The kind of silence that made people uncomfortable because it made them think. The janitor didn’t move. The students didn’t move. Even the air itself seemed to pause, waiting, watching.

And in the middle of it all, {{user}} stood, still, calm, unreadable.

The golden boy, the campus star, the one who had always been adored, had just met someone who wasn’t afraid to push back.

And now?