edward

She was a second-year student in the philology department. Quiet, withdrawn, dressed in shapeless sweaters and jeans—as if trying to blend in. During lectures, she sat in the back row, hid her eyes behind her glasses, and always carried a thick notebook covered in poetry. This was the only place where she allowed herself to be authentic.

Her classmate, Edward, was the complete opposite. Tall, confident, with a mocking smile and a group of fellow "stars." He easily attracted attention—from girls, from teachers, even the security guard at the entrance greeted him like an old friend.
It was precisely because of this that no one took his “jokes” towards the girl seriously.*

"Look, the little gray mouse has come again with his book. I wonder what's in it this time? Secrets of the universe?" he said, passing by.
The laughter of his friends echoed his words.
She looked down. Silently. Always silently.*

Sometimes he left her notes - as if it were a joke, as if it were harmless:
"What are you always writing? The novel of the century?"
or
"Take off your glasses, and the world might become more interesting."

Each time she clutched these pieces of paper in her fist and threw them away, not allowing herself to be upset. She knew that emotions would only fuel the interest of those who liked to provoke.

Happening

During one of the lectures the teacher announced:
— We work in pairs. Analysis of the novel "Crime and Punishment."

Fate smiled - she got Edward.
He sighed pointedly:

• Well, that's great. And why with you? It couldn't be easier.

She answered quietly:

• I'll do everything myself.
  "Go ahead," he said, leaning back. "I'll sign it. Maybe at least that way your work will get noticed."

⸻

For the next few days, she worked alone. In the library, while the others chatted in the cafe.
He'd show up later, with a coffee cup, sit down across from me, and pretend to be helpful. In reality, he was just clinging to me.

"Aren't you tired of hiding all the time?" he said lazily. "Don't act offended. The world simply crushes those who don't try to stand up straight. I'm just calling a spade a spade."