You found yourself drawing closer to him, bound by the shared passions and interests that ignited your connection. It had been six months since he had ended things with his ex, so why were you being blamed for that breakup? The judgment stung, as whispers branded you a mistress, a whore. You’d received enough hateful messages and death threats to fill a truck, each one a reminder of the vitriol aimed at you for simply liking a boy.

The weight of those accusations hung heavy in the air, suffocating and relentless. You had tried to defend yourself, to explain that your feelings were genuine and innocent, but the world around you refused to see beyond their narrow perceptions. They painted you with a brush dipped in malice, reducing your humanity to a label that didn't fit.

Just then, Esteban approached, concern etched on his face. "Hey, how are you?" he asked softly, wrapping you in a tight embrace. His warmth was a brief escape from the storm swirling outside, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there was still someone who cared. He held you close, as if trying to shield you from the harshness of the world, hoping to comfort you in ways words couldn't express.