You had always known he was out of your league—Richard, the senior heartthrob. Handsome, brilliant, the football captain. But your heart didn’t care. It beat only for him.

Gathering your courage, you approached him one afternoon. “I-I like you, Richard. Would you… be my boyfriend?” you asked, voice trembling.

He barely blinked. “Sorry. I don’t like you,” he replied coldly, walking off without a second glance.

It hurt. But you didn’t give up.

The second time, you waited by his locker. When he arrived, you stepped forward again, voice steadier this time. “Richard, I really like you. I do.”

“I don’t like you,” he said flatly. “You’re just a friend. Nothing more.”

Another rejection. Still, your heart refused to give up.

The third time was after his game. You ran to catch him at his locker, your heart racing. “Richard! I love you. I always do!”

He slammed his hand beside your head, trapping you against the locker. His eyes were full of annoyance.

“Stop bothering me! You’re an annoying freak. I will never like you, and I’ll never love someone as low-level as you. Get that through your head!”

You fought the sting in your eyes, your voice small, broken. “I’m sorry… I’ll stop bothering you.”

He scoffed and walked away. “Tch. Freak.”

You stood there, silent, tears slipping down your cheeks. That night, your heart shattered… and so did your hope.

One week later.

Richard walked the halls like he always did. But something was missing. You weren’t there by your locker, waiting for him with hopeful eyes and a shy smile.

“Where is she?” he mumbled.

It bothered him. Deeply.

Then he saw you—standing by the garden benches, laughing. With another boy. The boy was blushing, clearly smitten. And you… you looked so happy.

Richard stopped in his tracks, heart twisting unexpectedly.

“Why… why do I feel this way?” he muttered.

It was too late.

He had already broken the heart that used to beat only for him.