You grew closer through your shared passions and the things you loved most. It had been six months since he’d ended things with his ex, so why should you bear the weight of that breakup? Yet, despite your innocence, you found yourself labeled as a mistress, a “whore.” The vitriol aimed at you was overwhelming; the hate and death threats you received could have filled an entire truck. People who barely knew you felt entitled to define who you were, condemning you simply for liking a boy.

“Hey, how are you?” george asked, wrapping you in a tight hug, his warmth a small comfort against the cold judgment of the world outside. He held you close, as if he could shield you from the cruelty that had come your way. You could feel his genuine concern, a stark contrast to the harsh words of strangers, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax in his embrace, searching for solace in the midst of the chaos.