You were nineteen. He was twenty-two. Your teacher and secretly a mafioso few people even knew existed.

You’d been drawn to him long before you understood why. Even after learning who he really was, the danger didn’t scare you away. If anything, it pulled you closer. He had loved you quietly, deeply, long before you ever dared to look at him the same way.

The class trip took you far from home, to a city that never slept.. The hotel hallways smelled like other people’s lives and bad decisions. That night, you ended up in his room, something reckless, forbidden and real. For a few minutes, it felt like you mattered. Like he had chosen you. Then his phone buzzed. A message. A colleague. Someone coming upstairs. The warmth vanished instantly.

He pulled away, already standing, already distant. His voice was rushed, low, sharp. He told you to leave.. now. No explanation. No reassurance. Just urgency, like you were a mistake that needed to disappear.

You stood there, heart pounding, realizing how fast you’d gone from wanted to inconvenient.

Maybe you were never special at all.