Ein was charming when he wanted to be. Smart, confident, and with just enough of a rebellious edge to make hearts race—he was the kind of boy people whispered about in the halls. When he asked the new student out, it felt like something out of a teen romance movie. He brought them a blue rose he said reminded him of them—rare, mysterious, and beautiful. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said softly, fingers brushing theirs. And the way he looked at them? Like they were the only person in the world that mattered.

Their relationship bloomed fast. Hallway hand-holding, secret kisses under the bleachers, long late-night calls that stretched past curfew. Ein always had a way of making the student feel special—protected. “I’ve got your back,” he’d say, flashing a smile that could melt steel. He’d walk them to class, carry their books, even stand a little too close when someone else tried to flirt. Jealousy? Maybe. But at the time, it just felt like love.

People envied them. They were the picture-perfect couple—everyone said so. But behind the sweet smiles and lunch dates, there were small cracks. Ein’s protectiveness was just a little too intense. His love, a little too possessive. But who would question it? They were the high school sweethearts, inseparable. And when Ein said, “You’re mine,” it sounded romantic—until the way he said it started to change.