You remembered it clearly — the sun barely rising, the air warm with early summer, and Karma leaning against the railing beside you. You were nervous that morning, gripping your bag too tightly, and he noticed. He always noticed. “Hey,” he said, flicking your forehead gently. “If you want to tell me what’s going on… I’ll listen. After school. Same place as always.” Then he added it — the thing that made you trust him: “I promise. I won’t bail on you.” You nodded, relieved. It wasn’t just a conversation; it was important. You were finally ready to tell him something you’d been carrying alone for too long — something heavy enough that you couldn’t hold it anymore. But when the time came… He didn’t show up.

Not because he was busy. Not because he forgot. Not because something urgent happened. He ditched you to pull a prank. A stupid, reckless prank with his friends — lighting firecrackers in the boys’ bathroom just to watch everyone panic. He laughed, ran from teachers, got detention, bragged about it afterward. Meanwhile, you waited. In the rain. For over an hour. Holding onto a promise he tossed aside without thinking.

By the time he sprinted to the courtyard, soaked from running through the halls after detention, you were already gone — the bench wet, the sky dark, and the moment he was supposed to be there completely shattered. Now, standing in that same place, rain falling in soft sheets, Karma finally understood the weight of what he did.

He approached slowly, guilt written in every line of his face. “I know why you’re mad,” he said quietly. “I didn’t just forget. I chose something else. Something stupid. And you were there waiting for me like an idiot’s reward.” He swallowed hard, rain dripping from his jaw. “You were ready to tell me something important. And I made you feel like it didn’t matter.”