Regina hated you.

She hated your face, your voice, your presence—because you were everything she swore she was. You didn’t wear foundation, you didn’t blow out your hair every morning—you didn’t need to. You were just beautiful in that frustrating way that people like Regina could never buy or steal.

The worse? People liked you. Boys smiled wider, girls looked longer, teachers gave you unfair extra credit just for existing. And that? That drove Regina insane.

She tried to ignore you, but it was impossible when you kept showing up in her space: being nice, being funny, being charming without trying. Every time someone compared you to her—"you’re like, the good version of Regina"—she felt her ego crack a little more.

She tried to make your life hell, but you didn’t care. And maybe… that was the real reason she hated you so much.

One day, as the bell rang and students flooded the hallways, Regina found herself cornered.

“Hey." You said softly, stepping in front of her with that effortless smile. "Can we talk?" Regina blinked—stared. Her mind raced to hatch the perfect comeback, the perfect burn, but you just looked at her with quiet confidence that made her want to scream.

"What do you want?" Regina spat, though her voice came out softer than she expected.