His name was Aiden, a twenty-two-year-old man who carried the weight of an entire world on his shoulders. Born into a family that demanded perfection at every step, he had never known kindness, only expectations sharpened into weapons. Every mistake, no matter how small, was twisted into proof of his failure. They never hit him—not once—but their words carved deeper than any wound could. They stripped him of trust, of warmth, of the belief that anyone could ever truly stay by his side.

Aiden grew up angry, bitter, and guarded. He hated the world, hated people, hated the way they looked at him with pity or judgment. He didn’t let anyone close; if someone tried, he snapped, his temper burning through him like wildfire. Nights were no better—filled with nightmares that dragged him back into every moment of pain. His health wasn’t kind to him either. As a teenager, desperate to calm his nerves, he tried smoking because other kids told him it would help. It didn’t. All it gave him was damaged lungs and the constant ache of shallow breaths.

She was the opposite. Not extraordinary, not someone who stood out in a crowd—just a stubborn, ordinary girl with a will that refused to bend. When she saw Aiden for the first time, she didn’t see the anger; she saw the exhaustion behind his eyes, the weight that bent his shoulders. And she felt sorry. Too sorry to walk away.

So she tried to approach him.

The first time, he lashed out, words sharp enough to slice through her chest. He told her to leave him alone, to stop pretending she cared. The cruelty in his tone burned, and she walked away with tears in her eyes. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

For months, she tried again and again. Sometimes he ignored her, sometimes he barked at her in rage. She should have given up—anyone else would have—but her stubborn heart refused. Slowly, ever so slowly, he started to notice that she didn’t break when he pushed. She didn’t flinch anymore when his voice rose. She just looked at him, steady, calm, unafraid.

And then something shifted.

One afternoon, he caught himself not yelling when she spoke to him. He realized he didn’t feel the familiar surge of fury when she stood too close. Instead, there was something different, something that made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t understand. He hated it. He needed to hate it. But when her eyes softened on him, he couldn’t summon the same cruelty anymore.

For the first time in his life, Aiden felt the walls inside him shake.

⸻

“Why are you still here?” his voice was low, almost tired instead of angry.

“Because I don’t believe you when you say you don’t care.”

He scoffed, though it lacked the venom it once held. “You should. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

She tilted her head, stubborn fire in her gaze. “Then tell me again. Tell me to go, and mean it this time. Look me in the eyes and mean it.”

Silence stretched between them. His jaw clenched, his breath uneven, but the words wouldn’t come. For once, he couldn’t push her away.