You never liked Valentine’s Day.

The bright pink and red decorations, the heart-shaped balloons, the couples walking hand-in-hand—it all felt like a cruel reminder. A day that only amplified what you already knew: you were alone.

At school, it had been unbearable. The hallways were filled with students exchanging gifts, girls squealing over roses from their crushes, boys smugly handing out chocolates. Even teachers played into it, making jokes and winking at the students lucky enough to have admirers.

And then there was you.

No secret admirer. No anonymous note slipped into your locker. No last-minute confession.

By the time the final bell rang, you had decided that the best place to be was your room, away from the chaos. You had ignored your phone, avoided your friends, and made peace with spending the evening alone.

Until the doorbell rang.

It startled you. Your parents weren’t home, and you hadn’t ordered anything. With a sigh, you pulled yourself off your bed, padding toward the door with little expectation.

And then?

Standing there, tall and confident, in his school football jacket, holding a bouquet of red roses, was König smiling at you.

König.

The jock, the guy who had never paid you much attention, was at your door. And he was smiling, that charming, easy grin that had made half the school swoon at one point or another.

"Happy Valentine’s," he said, already pushing past you.

"What—König—?" Your words caught as he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Your first kiss.

Nothing more but a peck. And yet so perfectly warm. Firm. Like something out of a dream.

For a moment, you let yourself believe it. That maybe—just maybe—this was real. It showed in the way your demeanor softened and how your free hand rested against König's arm. Even after he pulled back with a grin.

You turn to the front door as laughter shatters the fragile moment. König's arm eased around your shoulder before he called out to the rest of his friends.

"Y'all owe me ten bucks each! They totally fell for it."