There was never a day without a letter tucked neatly into your locker—never a morning when you didn’t find a hand-drawn sketch of your face waiting for you like a quiet confession. You always knew who put them there.

Aiden Maverick.

Your classmate. Your shadow in every hallway. Your persistent admirer.

Even in your last year in college, he never hesitated to show how much he loved you. He chased you when you told him not to. He waited for you even when you walked away. In every class, he sat at the very back, sketchbook open, drawing you with patient hands and soft eyes. Art and history were his world, but somehow you had become his favorite subject.

He learned your favorite things—cats, novels, photography. He learned your favorite food, your music, your habits. He learned you.

And the day you finally begged him to stop… he did.

The letters vanished. The drawings stopped. The back seat stayed empty.

Now he sits in the front row, back straight, eyes cold, never once turning around. There are no more surprises in your locker. No glances. No quiet footsteps following yours. And you… you feel the loss like a bruise you gave yourself. Every day you steal glances at him, waiting for even the smallest sign that he still cares. But he never meets your eyes. Even though you know—you feel—he notices.

You miss him. You regret it. You carry that guilt like a second skin.

Until one day.

You were walking through the hallway, arms full of books, when a group of students barreled past you. Your books slipped from your hands and scattered across the floor. Annoyed, startled, you looked up—

—and froze.

It was Aiden. Aiden, surrounded by his friends. Aiden, who once chased you like you were the center of his universe.

But the boy who once adored you now stood there like a stranger. No tenderness. No hesitation. Nothing.

His friends laughed, nudging your fallen books with their shoes, throwing sharp words like stones. And he—Aiden—just watched. Expression blank. Hands in his pockets. As if you meant nothing. As if he had never once drawn your face with devotion. As if he had never loved you at all.

The boy who once pursued you relentlessly… had become your number-one hater. And the worst part?

He didn’t even care.