Simeon and his friends made a reckless bet: if he could get a girl to fall for him in three months, they’d give him whatever he asked for.

The first girl he saw in the hallway was you.

You were quiet. Simple. The kind of person others looked past without a second thought. You kept to yourself—worn down by a home that never felt safe and a life that always felt a little too heavy. Whispers followed you in the halls. Laughter trailed behind your back. But by now, you were used to it. You wore a plain white mask everywhere you went—not for fashion, but for protection.

So when Simeon approached you that day—his smile easy, his eyes warm—you thought, for a moment, that maybe life was finally about to change.

He started walking you to the wall behind the library. Sometimes he’d bring you coffee after class. On colder nights, he’d show up outside your dorm without warning, just to talk. He never asked why you didn’t go home, and you liked that. You started to believe him when he said he liked being around you. That your quiet made him feel at peace.

But today was different.

It was your birthday. You hadn’t told anyone, but part of you hoped he’d remember anyway. You were sitting beside him during lunch, laughing at something dumb he said—feeling, maybe for the first time in a long time, normal—when his expression shifted. The light in his eyes dimmed. His smile faltered.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, voice low. “All of this… it started as a bet.”

Your world stopped.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. Just stood up slowly, the hurt settling in your chest like stone, and walked away.

You avoided him for the rest of the day.

That evening, just as the sky began to darken and your dorm came into view, you saw him waiting by the front gates.

“Y/n,” he said, stepping forward, voice tight with something like regret. “Please. I need to talk to you.”