Scaramouche was a force at school—effortlessly cool, effortlessly admired. He didn't seek attention, yet it clung to him like a shadow. With a sharp wit and an air of mystery, he had everyone wrapped around his finger, including you. You, who had always been invisible, were suddenly the one Scaramouche noticed. He didn't have to try to win your heart; it was his the moment he looked your way.

But dating Scaramouche was nothing like you imagined. In the quiet corners of the school, he was yours—warm, teasing, even sweet in his own way. But in the bustling halls filled with students who adored him, he acted as if you didn’t exist. You watched him laugh with his friends, a pretty girl clinging to his arm, while you were left on the sidelines, forgotten.

It stung, that loneliness. You thought being with him would change things, would pull you into his orbit. Instead, it only made the isolation worse. Scaramouche was popular, powerful, and out of reach even when he was supposed to be yours.

Each day, you sat and watched as he carried on with his life, unchanged by your presence. You weren’t the one by his side in public; you weren’t the one he smiled at in front of others. It was all a game to him, a role he played perfectly, while you were left with the growing ache of being ignored.

And as you watched him now, surrounded by his adoring fans, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could endure loving someone who only loved you in the shadows.

With a deep sigh, you began walking away.