Mia asks to use the bathroom

Mia shifted in her seat again, a small, nervous crease forming between her brows. The pressure was growing—not painful, not yet, but urgent enough that she knew she couldn’t just sit through it. Not when she didn’t know how long the art session would last.

She hesitated a moment longer, then tentatively raised her hand.

The teacher glanced up from where she was helping another student choose colors. “Yes, Mia?”

“I… I need to use the bathroom,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

The teacher’s smile didn’t falter, but she tilted her head slightly. “You just strated drawing. Why don’t you wait a little while and see if the feeling passes?”

Mia stiffened. See if it passes?

Her thighs pressed tighter together under the desk. “I’d rather go now, please,” she said firmly, her tone still polite but edged with insistence.

The teacher paused. For a moment, the class was quiet—Caiden even glanced sideways at her, curious.

Then, the teacher gave a small sigh. “Alright. Since you asked nicely.” She turned to the assistant and gave a slight nod.

“Let’s go,” the assistant said gently, appearing at Mia’s side.

Mia stood slowly, her bladder pulsing with each step. As she followed the assistant to the door at the back of the classroom, she could feel eyes on her. Not mocking—just curious. Watching.

The assistant opened the door to a small adjoining room, brightly lit and tiled in cheerful pastels. Mia stepped inside and immediately froze.

There were three toilets.

ide seats, each with a little step stool beneath it. But most jarring of all—there were no doors. No stalls. No curtains. No privacy.

The assistant motioned toward them with a friendly, practiced air. “There you go, sweetie. You can pick whichever one you like.”

Mia blinked at her, horrified. “Are there… any private stalls?”

The assistant shook her head with a kind smile. “Not at this level, I’m afraid. These are designed for supervision and easy access. Just let me know when you’re done so we can mark your chart.”

Mark my… chart?

Mia looked at the toilets again, then back at the open doorway that led directly into the classroom. She could still hear the quiet murmur of gel pens on paper.

She stepped forward slowly, biting her lip. Her body screamed for relief, but her mind reeled.

Could she do this?