His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 98: Game. Set. Annihilation.

Chapter 98- Game. Set. Annihilation.

Tyler's POV

The classroom was silent. Not the peaceful kind of silent, but the eerie, tension-filled kind—like the moment before a horror movie monster jumps out and ruins your life.

Everyone sat frozen, their collective breath held as Naomi tilted her head, an amused, almost pitying smile creeping onto her lips.

"Oh? You guys want drama so bad?" she cooed, her voice dripping with the kind of fake sweetness that could rot teeth. "Fine. Let's talk drama."

And just like that, Naomi turned to her first victim—the ringleader, the girl clutching the mic like it was a lifeline.

"Let's start with the queen of garbage journalism."

Naomi's eyes locked onto the girl like a predator spotting a wounded deer.

"You," she started, her voice smooth, calm—too calm. "The queen of this pathetic little circus. Tell me, how's the blog going? Or should I say, how's that sad, desperate, decomposing excuse for a website doing? Oh wait—silly me! Nobody even remembers it exists."

The girl's expression tightened, but Naomi was just getting warmed up.

"I mean, really. You started off so strong, didn't you? Lurking in the shadows, scavenging for gossip like some kind of overgrown sewer rat, sucking the life out of other people's business just to keep your sad little blog breathing. And now?" Naomi let out an exaggerated sigh. "Now, you're like a mosquito that bit the wrong person and exploded. Just... tragic."

A low ripple of "damn" spread through the classroom, but Naomi wasn't finished.

"Oh, but my favorite part?" she added with a grin. "You have so much to say about other people's love lives, but let's talk about yours. You're still crying over your ex, aren't you? Yeah, the one who cheated on you. The one you still stalk on Instagram at 3 AM, hoping—just hoping—to see that he's miserable without you."

Naomi's smirk widened.

"But here's the thing... he's not. He's happy. Thriving, actually. With your best friend."

The girl recoiled as if Naomi had just slapped her with the cold, hard hand of reality.

"Oops," Naomi said with faux innocence, pressing a hand to her chest. "Did I strike a nerve?"

"Now let's move to the wannabe journalist."

Naomi's gaze slid to the guy standing next to Miss Miserable Heartbreak—the self-proclaimed boss of the blog. His usual smirk had evaporated, but Naomi?.

"And you," she purred. "The brilliant mastermind behind this dumpster fire of a website. How's that working out for you?"

He stiffened, but Naomi didn't give him the luxury of responding.

"I mean, let's be real—aren't you just embarrassed at this point? You sit here, pretending to be some big-shot journalist when, in reality, you're just a glorified gossip gremlin with a Wi-Fi connection. You couldn't write a real story if your life depended on it."

The class erupted into laughter.

"Oh, and let's not forget your biggest failure," Naomi continued, her voice practically dripping with delight. "Your girlfriend. The one who dumped you. You know, the smart one who finally realized she was dating a walking, talking disappointment?"

The guy's jaw tightened, but Naomi leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to make it hurt.

"She left you because you were cheating on her." Naomi let the words sink in. "With your own cousin."

The classroom collectively lost its mind.

Naomi gasped theatrically. "Oh no! Do you guys still share a toothbrush, or is that too intimate now?"

His face paled to the shade of expired yogurt.

"Which other person do we have here if not the desperate cameraman."

Naomi's gaze flicked to the third member of the disaster trio—the one clutching the camera like it could somehow shield him from what was coming.

"Oh, don't you dare try to disappear into the background," she cooed, tilting her head. "You're part of this little freak show too."

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He gulped.

"You sit there, recording everyone else's worst moments, twisting their words, stirring the pot like some sort of budget reality TV producer," Naomi mused. "But tell me, do you ever—just for a second—stop to think about your own pathetic excuse of a life?"

Silence.

"No?" Naomi gasped. "Well, let me help you out! Shouldn't you be using that camera to document your own downward spiral? Oh wait, silly me—you already did. When your own mother kicked you out for wasting all your savings on a girl who left you for your dad."

The class exploded. Someone actually fell out of their chair.

Naomi gave a sympathetic pout. "Tell me, how does it feel knowing your dad has more game than you?"

His face turned a shade of red previously unknown to mankind.

"Now our one and only smug filmmaker."

Naomi turned to the girl holding a phone, recording the entire massacre.

"Oh, sweetheart," Naomi sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe instead of sticking a camera in my face, you should point it at your boyfriend."

The girl frowned. "What?"

Naomi smiled. It was the kind of smile you'd see before a villain delivers the final blow.

"Oh, honey," she cooed. "While you're out here spreading rumors about me, your man is busy telling everyone that he only dates you because he lost a bet."

The girl's soul left her body.

The class went absolutely feral.

"Wanna check his messages?" Naomi asked sweetly. "I mean, I would."

The girl scrambled for her phone like her life depended on it.

"The final bastard who is the biggest hypocrite of them all."

And finally, Naomi turned to the last one—the girl who had called her the worst name of all.

"You," Naomi said, her tone turning almost bored. "You really thought you could call me a slut? Me? Oh, honey, don't ever play that game when your reputation is built on opening your legs for anything with a pulse."

The girl's face drained of all color.

Naomi smirked. "Do I need to start listing names?"

The class screamed.

"Because trust me, I can," Naomi said, inspecting her nails. "Hell, I could write an encyclopedia about your hookups. Call it 'The Complete Guide to Community Service'."

The girl looked like she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole.

Naomi leaned in, voice silky smooth.

"So, next time you wanna talk about me," she whispered, "remember—your entire personality is a group project."

And with that, Naomi turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder as the classroom erupted.

Game. Set. Annihilation.

"Now, be good little pests and scurry out of my sight before I start narrating the sequel to your tragic life stories."