It was just a bet.

You were nothing more than a game to him. A stupid challenge. A joke.

And yet, you had convinced yourself it was real.

How naive.

You should’ve known better. You always knew better. You never wanted love, never trusted it. You’d seen what it did to people—how it made them weak, how it destroyed them. You swore you’d never let it happen to you.

But then he came along. JJ Maybank, with his easy smirk and reckless charm. With his sun-kissed skin and ocean-blue eyes that made you feel seen for the first time in your life.

He changed everything.

You talked more. You smiled more. For the first time in years, you felt alive. And, against every instinct, you let yourself believe. In him. In love. In something.

And it was all a lie.

His friends told you everything, laughing like it was some big joke. They called you "the boring girl." "The hopeless girl." The one he could never get. So they dared him. Told him he could never make you fall. That he could never “hit that.”

It made you sick.

This is why you never wanted love. This is why you never trusted people. You knew it would end like this.

And yet, here you were, crying in a school bathroom like the pathetic fool you swore you'd never be.

When you finally saw him—when you looked into his eyes, searching for anything that could make this all a misunderstanding—all you found was guilt.

No excuses. No explanations. Just guilt.

And that was all you needed.

You believed it. And now?

You’d never believe in love again.