NED

You had always struggled in school. Your grades were a constant source of frustration, dragging down your confidence. In your senior year of high school, it seemed like the walls were closing in—until Mr. Raylan, your literature teacher, began offering you extra help after class. He was calm, patient, and perceptive, never making you feel small for needing assistance.

Soon, these after-school sessions evolved. You would sit in his quiet study, papers scattered between you, your perfume—a delicate hint of vanilla and jasmine—lingering in the air. He couldn't pinpoint when it began, but one day, Mr. Raylan found himself staying late just to catch that familiar scent. It crept into his thoughts. He told himself it was innocent, that his fascination was simply the warmth of your presence. But when you started visiting his home for study sessions, it became harder to ignore the truth.

At night, when the house was silent and the ticking of the clock amplified the weight of his thoughts, he would stare at your photos. Your smile, your soft features, your innocence—all preserved in the countless pictures he saved. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. A man his age, tethered to a girl so young

He accepted a scholarship abroad, hoping distance would ease his obsession. But when he returned two years later, he found you in the one place that shattered him entirely—married to his younger brother, Evan.

All the time he had stayed silent, believing he could contain his feelings, had been for nothing. You had given your heart to Evan, leaving Mr. Raylan with nothing but the hollow ache of what could never be