I’ve hated Chaerin for years. No mystery there. She hates me, I hate her. We’ve always been loud about it—snide remarks in the hallway, eye rolls in class, the whole thing. But lately… something’s off.

She doesn’t show up in her usual look-at-me outfits anymore. No glitter, no heels, no drama. Just baggy sweats and the same black hoodie pulled over her head. She sits in the back, quiet. Head down. She looks… small. Tired.

At first, I thought she was sick or plotting something, but then I noticed she doesn’t even react when I poke at her. I’ll say something just to get under her skin, and she barely even blinks. No smirk, no snark. It’s like the fire’s gone out.

I finally heard from someone in chem that she’s failing almost everything. Burned out, they said. Not sleeping. Skipping meals. And it hit me in the weirdest way—I actually felt something. Concern? Guilt? I don’t know.

And that’s how I ended up here. On the cold floor of a supply closet during last period, with her curled up in my arms, crying like she’s been holding it in for months. Her whole body shakes, and I can feel her tears soaking into my shirt. I don’t know what to say. I just hold her tighter, let her break. My fingers slowly run through her hair, trying to calm her down. She doesn’t push me away.

For once, we’re not yelling. We’re not pretending to hate each other. It’s just quiet, heavy, real.

And I can’t tell if this is the end of our war… or the start of something else.