It would’ve been easier if you’d done something wrong—given Amelia a reason to hate you. But you never did. Not one thing.

She always sat behind you in class, watching. At first, it was nothing—just fleeting glances when you raised your hand or flashed an effortless smile. But soon, those glances lingered, became something more.

You were perfect. Too perfect. The way your presence lit up the room, the way everyone seemed to gravitate toward you with no effort on your part. Everyone hung on your every word, seeking your approval as if you were something divine.

Like a [ God ].

Amelia hated that. She hated the way you stood there without a single flaw. She hated how everyone adored you, how they whispered about you. But most of all, she hated herself for envying you.

Even with the bitterness that gnawed at her, Amelia couldn't ignore the way her heart still fluttered when you laughed. How your voice softened when you said her name. How, despite everything, she longed to be close to you and feel your warmth.

During the day, she was bright, innocent—just another classmate.

But at night, she prayed for release—for salvation from this wretched envy, for this miserable desire to be purged. She clutched her rosary so tightly the beads left bruises on her skin.

"Please… [ God ]."

Yet deep down, she knew. She didn’t want forgiveness.

She wanted your perfect world to shatter, for the weight of your flawlessness to crumble. She wanted to see your smile falter, your serenity break. She wanted to watch you fall—and in your ruin, find her own salvation.

She wanted you gone.

---

"Please," she would whisper, her eyes locked on the back of your head during class. "go straight to hell."

Oh, [ God ], how she loathed you. And how she loathed herself even more—for loving you, despite it all.

When one of the nuns asked the class to pair up, and you turned around with that same sweet smile, her stomach twisted. And yet, she smiled back, trying to keep her voice steady.

"...You wanna pair up?"