The Villain We Loved - CHAPTER 12: The Principal’s Pet

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The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.

Class had just ended, but Ruthie wasn’t at her seat. She wasn’t walking with the other students. She was standing outside the principal’s office—alone, unbothered, and humming.

Inside the office, voices rose.

Muffled. Stern. Sharp.

A name was repeated over and over like an accusation: Ruth Anne Valerio.

The door opened.

Mrs. Del Rosario—tight-lipped and trembling—stood in the frame with her usual pretentious calm.

“You may come in now.”

Ruthie stepped inside, her head held high.

Three people were in the room:

Mrs. Del Rosario, the principal.
A committee member from the scholarship board.
And her homeroom adviser who couldn’t even meet her eyes.

“You’ve been accused of multiple violations,” the principal began.

“Alleged,” Ruthie corrected. “Walang napapatunayan.”

“A student says you physically assaulted her—”

“Without evidence.”

“A teacher says you raised your voice—”

“Because he cornered my friend.”

“And now, this... defiance?”

Ruthie smirked.

“Ma’am, if you’re looking for meek and obedient, you picked the wrong girl to threaten.”

There was a thick pause.

“Your academic scholarship is on review,” said the scholarship rep. “And until further notice, you are suspended for one week.”

Ruthie blinked.

Then grinned.

Then—laughed.

Loud. Sharp. Wild.

The kind of laugh that didn’t belong to a seventeen-year-old girl.270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSektbGYAb0
The kind of laugh that made skin crawl.

“Thank you,” she said, rising. “At least now I know I’m not imagining things.”

“Excuse me?” the principal frowned.

“This school was never going to protect me,” she said. “You all just wanted me obedient and quiet—until I made you uncomfortable.”

“Sit down—”

“I’m done sitting.”

And Ruthie walked out.270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmJVTsD0Ppz
Past the desk.270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfA1uZHfDbC
Past the stunned faces.270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj0J6msoHxe
Past the door like a queen dismissed from her own trial.

Outside, Jay was waiting.

He saw her grin from across the hallway—and something in his chest tightened.

Not because she looked happy.

But because she didn’t look human.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yup. Suspended. Might lose my scholarship.”

“And you’re… laughing?”

Ruthie didn’t answer. Just walked past him.

Jay followed.

“You find this funny?”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” he said, almost whispering. “It’s haunting.”

They ended up in the old faculty garden—long abandoned, full of overgrown vines and forgotten benches.

Ruthie sat on the edge of a stone fountain, the kind with no more water in it.

Jay didn’t sit. He just stood, watching her.

“You scared them,” he finally said.

“Good.”

“You scared me, too.”

Ruthie tilted her head, amused.

“What? Because I laughed?”

“No,” Jay said. “Because you didn’t cry.”

She went quiet.

Her fingers traced invisible shapes on the fountain’s mossy edge.

“Do you know what happens when you cry too much?”

“You feel better?”

“No. You run out of tears. Then what’s left is anger.”

Jay moved closer.

“You’re angry?”

“I’m exhausted.”

A beat.

“They think I’m some… manipulative little monster,” she said. “So I might as well play the part.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? It’s easier.”

Jay crouched in front of her now, leveling with her eyes.

“Because it’s not you.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“Then show me. The real you.”

Ruthie looked at him—really looked at him.

“What if I’m worse than they say?”

Jay didn’t flinch.

“Then I’ll still choose you. Kasi at least, totoo ka.”

Silence again.

Then—Ruthie’s laugh softened. This time, it wasn’t cruel.

It was tired.

It was human.

She leaned forward and whispered,

“They called me the principal’s pet. And now they’re throwing me out like trash.”

Jay brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Then we build something outside this school. Outside their stories.”

“And who are we, Jay?”

“The kind of people who don’t need their approval to matter.”

Ruthie sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m scared.”

“Good. That means you’re still fighting.”

And for once, Ruthie let herself feel that fear.

And let someone hold her through it.

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