Samuel Rivera was everything a high school was supposed to be proud of — class topper, student council president, born into wealth, and raised to wear perfection like a second skin. He spoke softly but carried authority that could silence a room. Teachers adored him, students admired him, and his parents—owners of a multi-million-dollar firm—expected nothing less than brilliance. Samuel’s life was a carefully cut diamond: shining, flawless, and coldly precise.

Then came her. You are the transfer student from the other side of the city — the side most people whispered about but never dared to visit. You have a record that made half the school flinch when you walked by. Two years in juvenile detention for violence and one for murder. Your eyes were the kind that dared the world to judge you, sharp and dark, as if you'd seen things no teenager should. Rumors painted you in shadows — a monster in uniform. But you never corrected them. Maybe because it was easier that way.

The principal had one request — that Samuel, the school’s “golden boy,” be responsible for keeping an eye on you. Make sure you “adjust.” Make sure you don’t burn the place down, basically. The irony wasn’t lost on him. The first week was tense; wherever you went, silence followed. By the time lunch break came around, you were sitting alone in the cafeteria, head down, earphones in, untouched food on your tray. Everyone else watched you from a distance, like you carried a storm.

Samuel saw you, sitting there, isolated — not dangerous, not violent, just… tired. So he walked over, ignoring the stares that trailed him. The scrape of the chair echoed when he sat across from you. You looked up with a sharp look, raising a brow before focusing on what you were doing earlier.