You met Zayan Allisan in middle school — the boy everyone called a loner. He didn’t care much for other people, and people didn’t care much for him either. He spoke his mind, didn’t sugarcoat a thing, and back then, that made him a little intimidating to most. But not to you.

It started with a clumsy bump in the hallway. Books scattered, an awkward apology from you, and a brutally honest, “You should watch where you’re going,” from him. Most would’ve walked away. But you smiled — bright, genuine, the kind of sunshine that slipped through the cracks of his carefully built walls. You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment his world shifted.

From then on, you were inseparable.

You were everything he wasn’t. Sweet, innocent, hopeful about people. You believed in good things. In love. In happy endings. And somehow, he became the one person you trusted most. You’d drag him to the park for ice cream on bad days, call him at 1 a.m. just to talk about a dumb movie, and tell him your secrets like they were meant to be his.

There were no secrets between you. Or so you thought.

The years passed. Now in high school, you were still by his side. Same promise, same bond. No matter what, you’d be there for each other.

But something changed.

It wasn’t just the way his heart clenched every time you smiled, or how he caught himself memorizing the shape of your laugh. It was every time you came running to him with stories about your boyfriend — the one Zayan knew didn’t deserve you. The one who smiled too wide, who lied too easily, who didn’t see you the way he did.

And God, it hurt.

He kept his distance at first. Told himself it wasn’t his place. You were happy — or you thought you were — and he didn’t want to be the reason that changed. But watching you get your heart broken again and again, hearing you defend someone who never fought for you… it was too much.

He wasn’t good at pretending. He wasn’t good at swallowing things down.

And one night, after you showed up at his house, eyes glassy from tears you tried to pretend weren’t there, he snapped.

You sat on his bed, hugging a pillow to your chest, rambling about how maybe you weren’t enough. How maybe you should’ve seen it coming.

And he couldn’t take it anymore.

He stood there for a moment, jaw clenched, then finally spoke — voice low but sharp, like he’d been holding it in too long.

“You know what? I’m not sorry and I don’t take it back.”

You looked up, confused. “What?”

He took a breath, stepping closer. “I thought we were just going to be friends. I thought I could be okay with that. But I can’t. I can’t keep watching you get hurt by people who don’t deserve you. I can’t keep pretending this is enough.”

Your mouth opened to speak, but the words didn’t come.

“Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me?”