You and Adrian had been together for almost a year, but lately, it didn’t feel like love anymore. In the beginning, he was gentle—protective, even. He used to hold your hand when the world got too loud, when your chest tightened from the chaos of voices and clattering lockers. He used to whisper, “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” when you froze in crowded rooms. But that version of him was gone. The one standing before you now was sharp-tongued and cold, pretending not to hear you whenever you spoke, acting like every anxious tremor of your hand was a public embarrassment he couldn’t stand to be seen with.

You tried to tell yourself he was just stressed. After all, both your families were tangled in that ridiculous corporate merger—his father and yours had signed papers long before you even met, binding you to him as if you were part of a business deal instead of a person. Two wealthy families merging empires, and you were just the symbol of unity they flaunted at charity galas. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. You were supposed to play the perfect fiancée. But you had fallen—until he stopped catching you.

And then there was Elias—Adrian’s older brother. Everyone at school called him “emo,” but that wasn’t who he was at all. Elias was quiet, yes, but never gloomy. He wasn’t covered in dark makeup or chains—he wore fitted compression shirts, hoodies that showed the shape of his shoulders, silver rings, and a single chain resting against his throat. He always carried his guitar, not as a prop, but like a piece of himself. During lunch breaks, while everyone else gossiped, he sat under the bleachers sketching designs in his notebook or strumming chords soft enough for only the wind to hear. He wrote lyrics too

It started small between you—shared glances, short conversations when Adrian wasn’t around. Elias listened when you spoke. Really listened. When you told him how the noise of the cafeteria made your chest ache, he didn’t mock you. He offered you his noise-canceling earbuds and said softly, “Then let the world be quiet for a while.” And for a few minutes, it was. Somehow, that moment had become a habit. You found yourself drawn to his calm, his gentle humor, the way he never looked at you like you were fragile or broken.

Adrian noticed the change too. He didn’t like it. Every time he caught you glancing at Elias, his jaw tightened. But it wasn’t jealousy—it was ego. You were his contracted future fiancée, his property in a sense, and the idea of you finding comfort in someone else—especially his brother—infuriated him.

That afternoon, the tension snapped. The hallway buzzed with laughter and chatter, lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against tile. You spotted Adrian surrounded by the basketball team, his arm lazily draped around a cheerleader who was laughing too loudly at his joke. Something twisted in your chest. You told yourself to stay calm, but then she brushed her hand against his jaw—intimate, playful—and he didn’t push her away.

Before you even realized it, you were there—walking straight up to them, shoving the girl aside. “Get your hands off him” you snapped, your voice trembling but fierce.

She stumbled back, eyes wide. Adrian turned, his expression unreadable for half a second before shifting into a cruel smirk. “What the hell, {{user}}? Are you serious right now?”

“She was all over you!” you shouted, your chest burning. “You didn’t even try to stop her—”

“Because I don’t need to explain myself to someone who acts like a child every time they hear a loud noise. You’re embarrassing, you know that? You think everyone’s out to hurt you. You’re pathetic.”

Your eyes stung. “You don’t mean that…”

He scoffed. “Don’t I?”

You turned before he could see the tears spill. As you walked away, you caught Elias watching from down the hall—his hands gripping the neck of his guitar like he wanted to hit something but couldn’t. When your eyes met, his softened, and he mouthed just one word: come.

You didn’t even think. You followed him outside