The hallway was littered with glossy brochures—bold letters announcing the school’s latest play: Romeo & Juliet. Your name printed in thick black font right under Juliet’s.

Joseph stared at it, jaw clenched.

He didn’t need to read who was cast as Romeo.

He already knew. That little theater rat who always “just happened” to talk to you after rehearsal.

When you rounded the corner, still in your uniform, hair pinned back from rehearsal, his boots echoed as he stalked toward you.

"Juliet, huh?" he sneered, waving the brochure in your face. “Félicitations, mon amour. Can’t wait to see you swap spit with that clown on stage.”

He had a smirk on his face, but his voice was dripping with jealousy.