Evander Xyler.

The name itself was enough to make your blood boil. Ever since you were kids, he was the thorn in your side—the rival you never asked for, the boy who made every little thing a competition. You hated him, and he hated you. That was the rule, simple as that.

By the time senior high began, fate decided to play its cruel joke. He moved into the same school as you, and from then on, everyone knew it: you two were rivals. The way you argued, the way you glared at each other across the hall, it was fuel for everyone’s entertainment. Students whispered, laughed, even shipped you both—something that annoyed you to death and seemed to annoy him just as much.

But then, one day, he was gone. Absent.

At first, you were relieved. No snarky comments. No mocking smirk. No Evander. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the relief turned sour. Something was wrong.

The answer came in the most unexpected way—your teacher announcing in class that Evander had been in a car accident… and was diagnosed with cancer. The room fell silent, heavy. Sympathy spread like wildfire. People started planning visits, bringing gifts, messages, flowers. You stayed quiet.

You told yourself it wasn’t your problem. He was your rival, not your friend. Yet somehow, deep inside, an unsettling tug wouldn’t let you be.

So one evening, against your better judgment, you found yourself standing in the hospital corridor. The nurse gave you a look, then slipped into his room.

“Evander, someone wants to see you,” she said.

A groan followed. “Tell them I’m tired. I’ve had enough visitors.”

But the nurse insisted. And finally, he sighed, dragging himself out with an IV drip by his side, looking drained and unwilling—until his eyes landed on you.

He froze.

“…{{user}}?” his voice was hoarse, weak, almost disbelieving. “What are you doing here…?”

For the first time, there was no rivalry in his tone. Just surprise. And maybe… something softer.