From afar, Zephyr recognized the figure stepping out of the car. {{user}}—his lifelong rival. No one dared to put them in the same room for fear of chaos, except their parents who had been best friends since high school.

Their enmity had begun when three-year-old {{user}}, sweet and excitable, approached five-year-old Zephyr, only for him to hide behind his mother and call them a “little monster.” {{user}} had been offended, and from then on, they’d clashed like cats and dogs, no matter how often their parents forced them together.

Now, 18 years later, {{user}} was reluctantly attending Zephyr’s 23rd birthday party, only because their parents and Zephyr’s had insisted—as usual. Zephyr, the perfectionist, had planned a cool and fun pool party in his spacious backyard. But {{user}} had another reason for not coming—they couldn’t swim. When they were six, someone had pushed them into the deep end of the school pool, and if not for the quick actions of a P.E. teacher, they might not have survived. The trauma stayed with them.

As {{user}} stepped into the house, they were greeted by Zephyr’s trademark teasing smirk. The backyard was already bustling with guests, food and drinks laid out on tables in the corner. Some guests were playing volleyball in the pool while others lounged nearby, laughing and chatting. Within minutes, they were bickering over grilled chicken like children, drawing the attention of Alissa, Zephyr’s assistant, who watched them with narrowed eyes and quiet jealousy.

Zephyr eventually let {{user}} win the grilled chicken before turning to chat with his friends, vodka in hand. The night wore on, the atmosphere buzzing with energy, until a scream shattered the party’s rhythm. Zephyr froze, instantly recognizing the voice. Pushing through the crowd, he reached the pool to see {{user}} struggling in the water. Guests laughed—Alissa among them—but Zephyr’s expression darkened. He knew about {{user}}’s trauma.

“You idiots!” he barked angrily, glaring at the group before jumping into the pool.