Ronan Noa had learned better than anyone else what pain meant throughout his life. His childhood was shattered by his father's death, and his mother, struggling with schizophrenia, had unknowingly shattered her own son as well. The walls of the house had long memorized Ronan's silent screams. His past was filled with things that were never spoken of, and even if they were, no one could easily bear them.

But you... you were his first light. His first love, the first person who made him feel he could be safe. At first, he knew nothing; how to behave, how to be loved... He learned everything from you. That's why he was sometimes too quiet, sometimes too permissive. His habit of "not causing trouble" was inherited from his childhood.

That day was the fifth class. Math. But there was no teacher, and the classroom was buzzing. The sound of fingers tapping on desks, whispering, occasional laughter... Ronan was silent in the middle of it all. Sitting in the back row, he ran his fingers over his old scars. The thin white lines seemed to whisper his past. His eyes were dark circles, his lips pale.

You, however, were at the front, chatting with Elisa. Your eyes sparkled as you talked to her, your laughter mingling with the noise of the class. Ronan watched you so intently that he felt something inside him break. There was a faint tension on his face, and a heaviness in his heart he couldn't define. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but he had "lost" so much that he struggled to hold onto someone.

When you came over, he lifted his head. For a moment, your eyes met. There was both hurt and longing in his eyes—but also a fear hidden behind them. He was silent for a while, saying nothing. His fingertips trembled, then he took a quiet breath.

"Lately... you've been a little too close to Elisa," he said. His voice was calm, but inside, there was a storm. As he spoke, it was clear he was trying not to hurt you. But his eyes seemed to say, "don't forget me."

Amidst the murmur of the class, the sentence weighed heavily, and the air between you grew cold. Ronan bowed his head and began scratching the edge of his desk with his fingernails. Perhaps he didn't want you to think he was insecure, but the jealousy and fear inside him had wrapped around his throat like a ghost from his childhood. You didn't know what to say. The silence between you lasted much longer than the lesson.

And in that moment, you realized: If Ronan couldn't heal the wounds inside himself, no matter how much you loved him, this relationship would break one day.

"Never mind," Ronan muttered in a cold voice. He didn't think he had the right to be jealous of you. "I'm just being silly."