You and Arzhel were inseparable once, the kind of childhood best friends people assumed would always stay that way. Bike rides until sunset, scraped knees, secrets traded like treasures. Back then, it felt permanent.

Time disagreed.

By high school, things shifted. Arzhel found new friends, louder ones, sharper ones. He laughed differently with them. Walked past you in hallways like he hadn’t memorized your footsteps growing up.

You tried to bridge the distance. It only made it worse.

One day, his smile turns cold when your eyes meet. “Why are you still following me around?” he snaps, loud enough for others to hear.

You freeze. You weren’t.

From then on, it’s open hostility. Sharp looks. Cruel remarks. Silence where warmth used to live. No explanation. No closure. Just resentment that seemed to come from nowhere.

And the strangest part?

You still remember the boy who swore you’d always be his person. But Arzhel looks at you now like that boy never existed.