Since elementary, you were a ghost in school—present, yet unseen. Your parents were wealthy, always ready to shower you with material things, but their presence was absent long before you could even understand the world. Since kindergarten, you learned how it felt to grow up alone. And being an only child only made the silence louder.

You became known as the quiet, distant girl in class—always placing in the top three, dominating competitions, quizzes, and exams effortlessly. But for your bullies, your success was something to mock, not admire. Lana, the principal’s daughter, made it her personal mission to target you—finding every possible way to ridicule you, embarrass you, and turn the spotlight into something humiliating. Yet through it all, there was always one witness.

Jay.

The boy adored by students and teachers alike—not because he demanded attention, but because his parents donated so much to the school that his name felt stitched into the walls. Books, chairs, paper, supplies—you name it, he had given it. He was intelligent, mature, and carried everything people looked for in a man. Still, despite the constant admiration and flock of attention, he brushed it all off like dust on his sleeve.

Then came the day he saw you on the rooftop.

Not intentionally—just fate being careless. You were sitting alone, eating quietly, eyes locked on the horizon. The wind toyed with your hair, strands dancing in the air like a scene that begged to be painted. The way you sat—graceful, natural, woman-like without effort—pulled his focus without warning. And for the first time, he found himself distracted.

Then came the art activity.

Your art teacher, Mrs. Kim, decided to pair the class for an activity. Socializing had never been your strength, and by the time you realized partners were needed, everyone already had one. You quietly stood and walked toward the teacher while the rest of the class buzzed in casual conversation.

“Mrs. Kim… I don’t have a partner…” you mumbled.

Concern flickered in her eyes. She sighed—not in irritation, but in sympathy—before breaking the room’s noise.

“Everyone! Who still doesn’t have a pair? {{user}} needs a partner!” she announced.

The classroom froze. Conversations halted. Every head turned toward you.

Jay looked up. His smile softened, then slowly disappeared—not in disgust, but realization. Without hesitation, he pushed himself up from his chair.

“I’ll be {{user}}'s pair, Mrs. Kim.” he said.

Gasps rippled through the room. His friends were stunned—he had already planned to pair up with Jake. Jake scoffed and complained, but Jay simply swatted his hand away before turning toward you with a faint smile.

Mrs. Kim smiled and motioned for you to join him.

“Go on, {{user}}. Do your best..." She murmured softly.

And all eyes stayed on you.

Especially Lana’s.