nightmares are unfolding right in front of my eyes. The only problem is, this is not a dream and I can't pinch myself to wake up. The photograph of me kissing Dimitri on the lips outside my flat is the front cover of all the tabloids. My ring sparkles in the light - adding to the confirmation of the wedding rumours.

The paparazzi were outside my house, promptly waking me up with screams at five in the morning. Luckily, Nicholas was on duty at that time and he helped me get into my car. I thought the troubling would end there but I was wrong.

They were also waiting for me at the school gates when I arrived at work. In the blur of the name-calling, the flashes and the constant scream of Dimitri's name, I'm a sweaty mess. My heart is promising to beat out of my skin as my anxiety takes full-ride growing inside my chest.

What have I done? There was no need to be impulsive and plant a kiss on Dimitri's lips.

"Look look! That's her!" A dark hair lady nudges her pal, pointing to me as I walk past. Her face is recognisable, I've seen her work in the administration's office. We merely exchange hi's and smiles but that's it. Red blasts across my cheeks and I tilt my head to look at grey concrete using my hair as a curtain.

There is no way I'm going to survive this day. "Why on earth would a billionaire ever marry her? Who does she think she i–"

I almost want to stuff my ears with cotton - anything to block out the heinous comments. To add to my worsening anxiety, I start up the projector and computer and just then my pinging vibrates throughout the empty room. It's an email from the principal asking to see me in her office. Immediately.

It takes three minutes, two long scenarios and one re-evaluation to jump out the window before I'm dragging myself across the playground to hunt down Mariah's office.

The slamming of a car door draws my attention away from my beating heart for a second. It's Jeremiah. He's sporting a black dress-shirt today, perfectly in sync with the grey weather. He's got a coffee cup in his hand, carrying a book in the other and looks gloomier than usual. He walks, pulling at the corner and slumping through the playground, assumingly walking to his classroom. He hasn't bothered to shave over the weekend and looks miserable.

He's heard about the engagement, hasn't he?Everyone has.

I debate running after him, declaring to him how sorry I am for not kissing him, my face on the tabloids, the whole marriage. I just want to shake him and tell him he's one of my good friends and I didn't mean to hurt him.

Yet, I don't. I do none of those things and let the guilt burden inside me until I'm hollow to the core and standing outside Mariah Sultan's wooden door. Before more scenarios after forming in my head, I knock one of her door and let myself in.

Her office is spacious, grey themed furniture and wall behind her lined with photographs and her diploma's. Her eyes haven't flicked up from her screen to peek at me, but my presence is acknowledged.

Mariah Sultan is a force to be reckoned with. She can obliterate anyone with a sharp glare and stilettos. Today, she wears a white blouse and dark blazer, supporting her favourite mulberry lipstick. She has slender eyes lined with kohl, high cheekbones and a career that has remarkable achievements. Did I mention she's met Prince William?

"Sit down, Miss Romero,"

I grip the corner of her desk, planting myself in the soft seats. I can feel the skin of my lips starting to peel off from the nervous biting and I physically have to clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking.

She finally cranes her seat towards me, twisting her torso and resting both of her clasped hands in front. "It has come to my attention this morning that a member of the staff has their face plastered over dreadful tabloids for an engagement," her eyes shift down to look down at my ring and her suspicions and confirmed instantly.

My throat begins to dry up. "What you do in your personal life is none of my concern. However, it has become a concerning matter because the reputation of the school and the welfare of the children is more important. We cannot have paparazzi loitering about the school gates, nor can we have a teacher who's constantly filtering through sordid tabloids. I hope you understand that, Miss Romero,"

It's only eight in the morning, the weather is murky cloudy grey and the concrete is wet with the morning shower. It's only eight in the morning and I'm being told off for bringing attention to the school gates. It's only eight in the morning and I've got a splitting headache.

"I sincerely hope you can continue to keep your personal and work life private."

No, this can never work. I've signed my name down in ink for eighteen months. For the duration of eighteen months, the paparazzi have power to exploit, run rumours, circle around me twenty-four seven.

As long as I have the ring on my finger - I cannot continue to work like this. I'm suddenly growing aware of the heavy rock that weighs down my hand. I've always been reprimanded by Abuela for being impulsive, dipping my toes in the deep end without any thought. I've always laughed at her criticism and never listened it, claiming it to be a bad habit that dies hard.

Finally, my bad habit is catching up to me. "No– that won't be necessary." I can't believe I'm doing this. My brows are pinching together with the additional stress.

"I'm afraid I don't seem to understand."

"I resign."

She blinks, her mouth opening. "I'm very disappointed to hear that Bella. I was going to offer you the promotion right now."

What? My world is bending, breaking, bruising apart. "Is your decision final?"

With a heavy heart, I reply, "Yes."

"Very well. You can clean out your classroom and belongings by the end of today."

I didn't cry when I broke my arm after falling off my bike when I was seven. I didn't cry when I was rejected from multiple jobs before getting this one. I didn't cry when my mother was murdered by the media for stealing property from a rich man. Hell, I didn't shed a tear at my mother's funeral.

But right now? My mascara and liner have begun to smudge, black lines of tears roll and settle underneath my chin. This is humiliating. I've just resigned from my job, my only source of independence - my only source of feeling like I've done something useful with my life.

And now? I've robbed myself out of it because my face is circling on the front covers of tabloids.

Maybe Abuela was right when she said "Ser la oveja negra te matará," Mamá had always been the black sheep of the family. Liminal between her surroundings, never quite in and never quite out.

Partially accepted but never acknowledged. Abuela also stated that Mamá and I share the same fate. We have pretty faces, pretty lips, slender necks and our faces are meant to be plastered on front covers.

Several summers ago, I jokingly agreed with her vile suggestion. The difference is Mamá was photographed crying and later with her body missing from the car after it collided with another's. I'm photographed with my lips pressed against a billionaire's.

Where's my dignity? Clearly, I have none. I wasn't built for the scandal, the gossip, the eyes of everyone. Somehow my fate is whiplashing me, holding my reign by the throat. I know for certain the media does not forgive.

The media does not forget. And the media will forever watch over, ready to scrutinize my every step. How could I possibly continue to live in harmony with myself and especially my work like that? The safety of the kids and the reputation of the school comes first. I've screwed over everything.

I gaze at myself in the mirror. The Bella that stands back with a redden blotchy face has just quit her job, is marrying a wealthy man for money and has sacrificed her own principles for her selfishness. She is something I thought I'd never become.

The Isabella within me is trying to heal from her past, mediates frequently, journals out her emotions and most importantly, does not marry men for money. I roll out layers of tissues from the dispenser, trying to salve off most of my runny mascara and liner. When I feel like I'm mentally and physically capable enough to stalk back to my classroom, I step out of the bathroom and begin trekking back slowly.

My face slams into a hard object and I blink, staring up at Jeremiah's face. He's just stepped out of the principal's office and is staring down at me in concern.

"Sorry," I mutter, my voice on the brink of breaking again. It's not hard to miss that I've been crying.

"You good?" The air in my lungs sliced into my ribcage. One question I hoped he wouldn't ask. Am I good? I don't know the difference between good and bad anymore.

"I'm fine," he knows I'm not.

We stand in silence. He opens his mouth to say something but again falls short. Blistering silence that engulfs us both. It's too loud. "I just got promoted," he blurts out, holding my reaction for gauze.

My lips tug with a weak smile, "Congrats. You deserve it," my shoulder collides with his as I push past, ready to lock myself away in class and cry another river.

"Oh and Bella?" My feet jam like paper in a printer and I freeze. "Congrats on your engagement. I know he'll keep you happy," I don't turn to look at him but I wish I did.

Four excruciating periods later, the news has blown full like a wildfire across school and even the students are asking about Dimitri. I brush on my best smile and answer to the best of my ability and the girls are squealing over the size of the ring. It only comes crashing down on me that this is my last day when I'm packing my stationery into the boxes.

There's a knock on my door. Before I get a chance to declare enter, Theodore throws it open and storms in. His blazer is discarded, his tie is undone and his shirt is muddy. He's trailing mud from his trainers. Football practice on the field I assume.

"Yo Miss R," he's studying my face, the most peculiar expression is planted on his face. He's heard. He's heard! Oh my lord. I just want the ground to swallow me whole. His eyes drift down, staring at my hand. Startled by the gesture, I turn down to look realising he's staring at the giant diamond on my finger. Our eyes meet - cold icy glare.

His lips part, his grey eyes filling with realism. "It's true. You're marrying my brother,"

I have absolutely nothing to say to him. I'm too ashamed to even begin explaining myself. His hand cups over his mouth before he's storming back and forth with needed closure. "Oh my god! You're marrying Dimitri!"

I began spilling, declaring I'm sorry for not telling him sooner and that his older brother wanted to keep it under wraps. Lies upon lies. More fabrication upon fabrication. This is a walking disaster. God will not forgive me. My confessions won't cut it.

"Wait so– one year? You two have been dating for one year and that fucking idiot hasn't told me," Theodore takes the bait I present him. "Excuse my language Miss but I'm gonna kill when I see him," he offers me a gentle smile. "But you could've told me!"

"Couldn't. You know how Dimitri is. All business and serious." I don't know what he's like with his family. I've only seen what he chooses to present me. We continue, trading insults about him. He quizzes me some more and I'm thrown under the bus with more lies.

"What's with the box?" He points to the large cardboard that's slowly being filled with my belongings. I clasp my hands together, gazing at my feet in guilt. If the news about him and his brother didn't give him a heart attack, my leaving will.

"You and I are leaving together."

"What?" His grey eyes search mine for an indication that I'm joking. I'm playing him. As if he's waiting for cameras to pop out from a late night show and declare he's been fooled. His expression morphs into the saddest quiver ever, his brows pinched together in burdening melancholia.

I continue, "You're finishing the end of your secondary education, and I'm at the last mark of my job. I resigned today."

The news hits him hard. I know it does because his mouth drops open and his eyes widen, but before I can even decipher his emotions it fades. A blank state, total whiteout on his desolate canvas.

"You've only been at the school for two years though and I'm staying on for sixth form. I wanted you to be my teacher for English," For a second, I think he's gonna cry with the slow breaking of his voice but it never comes.

"It was my decision Theo." He doesn't say anything. He's not focusing on me anymore and he's miles away from our conversation and the room.

"So you won't see us off on Friday? It's our last day on Friday."

"I'm sorry," it's a pathetic mutter.

"I'm gonna miss you," it's a proclamation. A sincere one.

"I'm going to miss you more," he gives me a sad smile.

"Christian will cry when he finds out. He has a crush on you,"

"Comfort him for me?" He gives me a strained nod, telling me he will try his best. Then he slowly edges away, waving me off.

Before leaving the classroom, he swiftly turns around, "You know... you're too pretty for my brother," he passes me a shrug, a small smile playing on his lips and with that he leaves the classroom. If I'm not mistaken, Theodore just gave me a green light? I try not focus on it but slowly it begins to eat me alive.

The morning is too heavy, the clouds promise eternal rainfall for the evening and I'm left with a giant ring as a burden. With the last box packed and sealed, there's only two things left to do: get drunk on wine and cry to Dimitri.