Collin led you into the empty classroom during lunch break, his normally warm demeanor replaced by something cold, almost distant. It caught you off guard, especially since he'd always been gentle, always looked after you. You remember how, when your world was falling apart—after your father was imprisoned for killing your mother, and everyone seemed to abandon you—Collin had been the one constant. He took you in when no one else would, held your hand through the darkest times, and, in the process, you fell in love. He had become your everything: the perfect boyfriend, any girl's dream, almost too perfect at times.

But as he locked the door behind him, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You could sense that something was terribly wrong.

"We need to break up," Collin said bluntly, his voice devoid of the warmth you'd grown so used to. The words struck like a knife, sharp and unexpected.

Your mind raced to make sense of it. Why? What had changed? Was it something you did? Or said?

Collin, seeing your confusion, scoffed bitterly. “I’m honestly surprised at how clueless you’ve been,” His words cut deeper than any insult you'd ever heard, but there was something more than cruelty in his tone—it was frustration, exasperation. "Didn’t you see the signs? Are you blind?"

"I never loved you," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "Not in the way you thought, at least." He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, studying you with a mix of pity and something darker. "I was just… afraid. Afraid of what people would think, of the judgment, the whispers. You were perfect—an ideal distraction. No one would ever suspect I was hiding anything as long as I had you by my side."