Re: The wedding anniversary fuller and more detailed more scenes of Ella’s full humiliation includes a prequel as well
Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2025 5:55 pm
Ella stood motionless by the wall outside Room 3B, her arms locked around her middle, the hallway around her gradually filling with students as the bell rang, sharp and final. The start of Lesson 1. Everyone moved with purpose — bags slung over shoulders, schedules in hand — but Ella stayed fixed, like someone had nailed her shoes to the floor.
Her legs felt like jelly. Her face still burned from the moment she wished had never happened — the moment her own voice had betrayed her.
“I hate being in here. Everyone looks at me like I smell… I wish I was invisible or pretty like Kelly…”
She hadn’t even meant to share it. It had just spilled out, raw and messy and human. And he’d made her read it aloud like a punishment.
“Now maybe you’ll think twice about throwing pity parties during tutor.”
Her throat tightened again just remembering it. The note wasn’t even meant to be seen. Not really. Just something to pass under the desk — just a thought. A feeling.
A voice broke through the hum of students.
“Ella.”
It was Leah, pushing through the flow of bodies in the corridor, her braid swinging as she rushed to her.
“He wants to see you,” she said quietly. “Mr. Leonard. He told me to send you back in.”
Ella stared at her.
“Is he still mad?” she asked, though she didn’t know what kind of answer she was hoping for.
Leah hesitated. “Just… go. I don’t think it’s about talking. I think it’s about control.”
Ella nodded slowly. Her limbs felt stiff as she turned back toward the classroom door she’d stormed out of only ten minutes earlier.
She knocked once. Then pushed it open.
Mr. Leonard was still at the front, his arms crossed over a stack of papers. The room was empty now — students long gone. He didn’t sit. He didn’t ask her to.
“You don’t walk out of my room without permission,” he said without preamble. “I don’t care how upset you are.”
Ella’s voice caught. “You made me—”
“You embarrassed yourself,” he interrupted. “And you disrupted the group. You’re not five years old, Ella. You don’t get to sulk and storm out like a toddler.”
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice level. “You humiliated me.”
“You wrote the note,” he said. “You passed it. You read it. Actions have consequences.”
There was no anger in his tone. Just that measured, clipped disapproval that somehow cut deeper.
“Breaktime,” he continued. “Room 1C. You’ll serve your detention there. Do not be late.”
She didn’t argue. She just nodded, barely. Her voice had gone somewhere else — out of reach.
“You can go,” he said, already turning back to his desk.
Ella slipped out of Room 3B, the corridor now nearly empty.
Ten minutes into her school day.
And already, the day had decided who she was going to be.
Her legs felt like jelly. Her face still burned from the moment she wished had never happened — the moment her own voice had betrayed her.
“I hate being in here. Everyone looks at me like I smell… I wish I was invisible or pretty like Kelly…”
She hadn’t even meant to share it. It had just spilled out, raw and messy and human. And he’d made her read it aloud like a punishment.
“Now maybe you’ll think twice about throwing pity parties during tutor.”
Her throat tightened again just remembering it. The note wasn’t even meant to be seen. Not really. Just something to pass under the desk — just a thought. A feeling.
A voice broke through the hum of students.
“Ella.”
It was Leah, pushing through the flow of bodies in the corridor, her braid swinging as she rushed to her.
“He wants to see you,” she said quietly. “Mr. Leonard. He told me to send you back in.”
Ella stared at her.
“Is he still mad?” she asked, though she didn’t know what kind of answer she was hoping for.
Leah hesitated. “Just… go. I don’t think it’s about talking. I think it’s about control.”
Ella nodded slowly. Her limbs felt stiff as she turned back toward the classroom door she’d stormed out of only ten minutes earlier.
She knocked once. Then pushed it open.
Mr. Leonard was still at the front, his arms crossed over a stack of papers. The room was empty now — students long gone. He didn’t sit. He didn’t ask her to.
“You don’t walk out of my room without permission,” he said without preamble. “I don’t care how upset you are.”
Ella’s voice caught. “You made me—”
“You embarrassed yourself,” he interrupted. “And you disrupted the group. You’re not five years old, Ella. You don’t get to sulk and storm out like a toddler.”
She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice level. “You humiliated me.”
“You wrote the note,” he said. “You passed it. You read it. Actions have consequences.”
There was no anger in his tone. Just that measured, clipped disapproval that somehow cut deeper.
“Breaktime,” he continued. “Room 1C. You’ll serve your detention there. Do not be late.”
She didn’t argue. She just nodded, barely. Her voice had gone somewhere else — out of reach.
“You can go,” he said, already turning back to his desk.
Ella slipped out of Room 3B, the corridor now nearly empty.
Ten minutes into her school day.
And already, the day had decided who she was going to be.