{{user}} had hated Atlas since kindergarten. Well, maybe hated was a strong word, but he had broken her favorite doll—right in front of her. He’d grabbed it during playtime and twisted its arm until it snapped. She’d cried, and he’d laughed. Not cruelly, just enough to make her cheeks burn with anger. That was the beginning of a rivalry that would span years.

Through every grade, Atlas never let up. He tugged on her ponytail in third grade, stole her pencils in middle school, and by high school, he seemed to have made it his full-time mission to tease her in ways that made her want to scream—or throw something at him.

But strangely, Atlas never let anyone else bother her. When a group of boys mocked her science fair project in ninth grade, Atlas had stepped in, his voice quiet and dangerous. They hadn’t bothered her again. When girls whispered about her behind her back, somehow those whispers always stopped… eventually.

She never knew why. She never asked.

By the time senior year rolled around, {{user}} had a new focus—Ace Reynolds. Ace, with his sleepy smile and poet’s heart. He was everything Atlas wasn’t: calm, charming, the kind of boy who quoted sonnets in English class and actually meant it. {{user}} had harbored a quiet crush on him for months, though she never had the courage to say anything.

Until the letter.

It was waiting in her locker after lunch. Soft, cream-colored paper. Ink that curled like it had been written with care.

“I’ve watched you from afar, not out of fear, but because I wasn’t ready for you to see me. You’re fierce. You’re funny. You’re the brightest part of my day. I know I’ve never said it… but I hope this letter says it all. Yours, A.”

Her heart fluttered. A. It had to be Ace. Who else could it be?

With a breath caught between hope and disbelief, she clutched the letter in trembling hands and went looking for him. She found him near the drama wing, just past the trophy case—his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed softly against hers.

The world tilted. The letter crumpled in her grip as she turned, blinking back the sting in her eyes. The hallway blurred as she ran, her shoes slapping against the linoleum floor, until—

She crashed into someone.

Atlas.

“Whoa, slow down,” he said, catching her by the shoulders.

She tried to push past him, but he didn’t move. “Hey. What happened?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, wiping her eyes quickly. “Just… move.”

He glanced down at the letter in her hand—the distinctive swoop of his own handwriting visible for a moment before she clutched it tighter. His jaw clenched.

“You thought it was Ace, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

She froze. The silence stretched between them.

“I didn’t think you’d read it,” he added, voice softer now. “I just… I couldn’t tease you anymore. Not like that. I figured if I told you—really told you—how I felt, maybe I’d ruin everything. Or maybe…” He paused. “Maybe I’d stop being the villain in your story.”

Her breath hitched. “You broke my doll.”

“I was five!” he said, almost laughing. “I didn’t know how else to get you to notice me.”

She stared at him. At the boy who had made her life chaotic for so many years, only to quietly protect her when no one else did. At the boy whose teasing had become something… different, lately. Something warmer. Something real.

The letter crinkled in her hand.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispered.

Atlas looked at her, his eyes searching hers like he was waiting for her to figure out the answer herself.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “But I meant every word.”