You had been crushing on Nefer for months. Ever since the first day at Nod Krai Academy, you knew there was something different about her — she carried herself with the poise of someone who knew her worth, but also the softness of someone kind-hearted underneath. You admired her from a distance: in the hallway, in class, in the way the afternoon sunlight caught the highlights in her hair. Eventually, you built up the courage to ask her to meet you after school by the old oak tree at the edge of campus.

The day came. Your heart was pounding, your palms sweaty — but you told yourself you had to be calm, mature, genuine. When she arrived, you took a deep breath.

“Nefer, I … I really like you,” you said, voice quivering but steady. “More than a friend. And I’d like to take you out sometime, if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, she was silent — her expression unreadable. You dared to hope. But then she shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, but the next words cut deeper than you expected: “Not like that.”

Your chest dropped. You tried to recover. “Okay — I understand.”

Then she sighed, with a wry little smile, like she was indulging something petty. “Honestly … I don’t think you’re my type. I mean … it’s sweet, but …” She paused, looked away, then glanced back, her eyes cool. “Thanks for telling me.”

That should have been it. But the next moment she leaned in, lowering her voice, loud enough so a few passing students could hear, and she said: “I’m flattered, really. But you should aim higher.”

Your stomach twisted. You nodded, swallowed down the sting, and turned to walk away. A couple of students at the edge of the courtyard — people you recognized from class — paused. A whisper-like ripple went through them. You felt exposed, like you were under a spotlight you didn’t want to be in.

By the end of the day, rumors had already begun: “He confessed, she rejected him,” “She’s so mean,” “Why did he even try?” You could feel eyes on you in the hallway, feel the sting of being the topic of conversation.

⸻

A few days later, you started distancing yourself. You realized something important: this wasn’t the first time you’d confessed, but it might be the first time someone didn’t just say no — they publicly put you down. And you were better than that. You swallowed your embarrassment, picked yourself up, and focused on your own life: classes, your friends, the things that made you happy.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the school library, tucked into a corner with a thick novel, when Maya — a classmate from your literature class — came over. She smiled gently. “Hey, you okay?” she asked.

You closed your book and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Just … thinking.”

She sat down beside you. “I’m really glad you told me how you felt,” she said, quietly. “It takes guts. I think you’re … pretty great.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. Her kindness felt real. You started talking about music, about books, about small dreams. She laughed at your jokes (even the terrible ones) and gave you that spark in her eyes when she teased you back. In the next few days, you two hung out more. Study sessions, lunch breaks, walks after school.

Slowly, you found yourself smiling again for reasons other than what Nefer thought of you. You felt grounded, stable. Mature.

⸻

Things came to a head during the school assembly two weeks later.

Nod Krai’s student council was announcing winners of the various clubs’ photo contests, and you and Maya had submitted a joint entry — a nighttime shot of the oak tree, lit by fairy lights. When the name was called, you stood up with Maya, surprised and elated. The applause was genuine. Your heart soared.

As you looked out over the sea of faces, you saw Nefer. She was off to the side, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Her expression was … something. Pride? Regret? Jealousy? You couldn’t tell at first. But the way her eyebrows narrowed slightly, and how her lips tightened when you accepted Maya’s high-five, made her stomach twist.