To everyone at school, Geraldine Madison was perfect.
Top of the class. Always dressed like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Walked with her chin slightly raised—just enough to say, I'm better than you, but not enough to get her into trouble. Teachers adored her. Boys flocked to her. Girls envied her.
But what they didn't know was what happened after sunset.
Behind the flawless hair and straight-A transcript, Geraldine's life was messier than she'd ever admit. Her parents were never home—always fighting, traveling, or pretending their lives hadn't already fallen apart. The house was big but cold, the kind of place you could scream in and no one would hear you.
So she learned early how to make noise in other ways.
Weekends were for escape. For tight dresses and loud music, for neon lights and lips that weren't hers. She went by another name at the clubs—Gia—a name that didn't carry pressure or expectation. It felt free. Wild. Untouchable.
But now… all she could think about was Amara.
She hadn't planned it this way. At first, Kingsley was just a trophy. Smart, charming, desired by many—it made sense. And for a while, she had him wrapped neatly around her finger.
Until she came along.
Amara didn't even try. She didn't wear makeup, didn't flash skin, didn't flirt in the hallway. Yet Kingsley was always… looking at her. Not with lust—but with interest. Curiosity. Something deeper.
And it drove Geraldine mad.
At first, she thought it would pass. Boys always looked. But it didn't pass. It grew.
And then came the day he defended Amara—publicly, in front of her. Told her she was wrong. Told her to back off.
That was when Geraldine knew she was losing.
But she wasn't the type to sit quietly and cry.
She was the type to strategize.
So she smiled. And approached Amara with soft words and downcast eyes. Said things like "I was jealous" and "I didn't mean to be cruel."
Of course, Amara had looked stunned. That girl probably never had a mean girl apologize to her in her life. Geraldine knew exactly what to say to earn her sympathy.
But inside, her thoughts were a chessboard.
Get close. Get in her head. Find the weakness.
Because someone like Amara didn't just win over Kingsley without a reason. There had to be something beneath that shy, modest exterior. Something Geraldine hadn't figured out yet.
And she would.
At lunch, she made sure to sit next to Amara.
"So," Geraldine said sweetly, unwrapping her sandwich, "how long have you and Kingsley been friends?"
Amara blinked. "Um… we're just group partners. That's how it started."
"That's not what it looks like." Geraldine gave a light laugh. "He's different around you."
Amara looked down at her food. "I don't know what you mean."
Geraldine tilted her head, watching her closely. She had to admit—it was hard to get a read on her. Amara didn't speak like other girls. She didn't try to impress. Didn't seek approval. And that only made her more intriguing.
"Have you always been like this?" Geraldine asked suddenly.
"Like what?"
"Quiet. Mysterious. Strong."
Amara chuckled nervously. "I'm not strong."
"But you are," Geraldine said, leaning in slightly. "You walk around like the world could fall apart and you'd still be okay. I envy that."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
Geraldine did envy it.
Because while she had expensive clothes and smooth talk, she didn't have that kind of strength. Her confidence was costume. Amara's was survival.
That night, Geraldine went out as Gia again.
The music at the club was too loud, the air too thick with perfume and sweat, but it was better than silence. She danced. She drank. She flirted. Guys bought her drinks and whispered sweet things in her ear.
But it wasn't Kingsley.
And none of it made her feel better.
At one point, she leaned against the bar, phone in hand, staring at a picture she secretly took of Amara in the library. Her face calm, focused, unbothered.
What was it about her?
Why did Kingsley light up when she entered the room?
Why did Geraldine dim in comparison?
By Sunday, Geraldine's mind was made up.
She was going to get as close as she could. Learn every habit. Every fear. Every truth. Kingsley wasn't just drifting—he was drifting toward something real, and that scared her more than she'd ever admit.
Because for the first time in her life, Geraldine Madison—the girl everyone admired—wasn't sure she was enough.
But if she could figure Amara out… maybe she could still win.
Or at least, make sure Amara didn't.
Elsewhere on campus...
Amara sat with Kelsey on the edge of the hostel steps, laughing about a nursing mnemonic they had come up with. For once, her heart felt light. No Geraldine drama, no resit pressure, no cafeteria whispers.
She didn't know Geraldine was watching her from behind the hallway blinds.
Didn't know that behind that fresh smile and new-found apology was a heart that wasn't healed, but hiding.
And as Geraldine scribbled something in the back of her notebook—Amara's name underlined twice—she smiled.
Not with kindness.
But curiosity.