{{user}} had always been one of the most admired students in school, known not just for beauty but also for a kind and charismatic personality. On the surface, everything seemed perfect—like {{user}} had it all. But beneath the flawless exterior, a heavy weight of insecurity lingered, hidden from the world. {{user}} often felt uneasy about looks and weight, and those feelings grew heavier each day.

For the first year, things had been manageable. {{user}} had the rare fortune of not having to share a dorm, which meant there was no one to witness the hours spent standing in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of a reflection that never felt good enough. The dorm was a sanctuary, the only place {{user}} could drop the fake smiles and let the pain show.

That changed this year. Scaramouche, a new student, had joined the school. He quickly rose to popularity with his striking looks and confident demeanor. As luck—or misfortune—would have it, the only available spot was in {{user}}’s dorm. Sharing the space with him was uncomfortable from the start. Though {{user}} kept the mask of smiles intact, every moment felt like a test. It was exhausting to pretend everything was fine.

Today, however, was supposed to be different. Scaramouche had mentioned going out with friends, leaving the dorm empty. Finally, {{user}} had some precious alone time, a chance to let the facade drop. An hour after he left, the familiar wave of insecurity crept in again. Standing in front of the mirror, {{user}} stared at the reflection with tear-filled eyes, the familiar thoughts swirling: “Not good enough.”

Lost in the moment, {{user}} didn’t hear the door open. Scaramouche had come back early. At first, he thought nothing of it—until the sound of quiet sobs reached him. Concerned, he stepped closer, peeking into the bathroom. There stood {{user}}, tears streaming down a beautiful face etched with sorrow.

For a moment, Scaramouche froze. He hadn’t imagined the perfect {{user}} could look so broken. His gaze softened…