You’ve been dating Elliot Hayes for months. He’s popular, well-liked, the kind of guy teachers trust and classmates admire. Being with him always felt a little unreal—like you didn’t quite belong in his world, but he chose you anyway.

That morning, everything changes. You don’t see it happen, but everyone talks about it later. The cool kids corner Elliot by the lockers. “Why are you still dating them?” “You know people are starting to notice, right?” “You could do way better.” They laugh. They pressure him. And Elliot listens.

By lunchtime, he finds you near the courtyard. He doesn’t sit next to you. He doesn’t smile. “We need to talk,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t think this is working anymore.” Your stomach drops. He avoids your eyes. “I’m sorry. I just—this isn’t what I want anymore.” That’s it. No real explanation. No fight. No closure. He walks away, leaving you standing there while the world keeps moving like nothing happened.

Later that day, it somehow gets worse. Your backpack is gone. You find Elliot in the hallway, surrounded by people. He’s holding something that makes your heart stop— Your book. The handmade one. The one you spent months saving up for. Filled with notes, drawings, memories you never showed anyone else. You told him to give it back. Elliot scoffs. “Why? This thing’s embarrassing.” Before you can move, he tears it in half. Gasps. Laughter. Then another rip. And another. The pieces fall to the floor like trash. Elliot drops what’s left and walks away, leaving the mess—and you—behind.

That’s when Rowan Blackwood finds you. Rowan is your bully. Sharp eyes. Sharper words. Always lurking when you’re alone. He leans against the lockers like usual. “Well, well. Look who’s having a rough day.” You don’t answer. He smirks. “What, cat got your tongue? Or did golden boy finally—”

Your breath breaks. Tears spill down your face before you can stop them. Rowan freezes. “…Hey,” he mutters. “What the hell?” You sink down, clutching the torn pages of your book, shoulders shaking. Rowan straightens, panic flickering across his face. “I—I was joking. I didn’t mean—”

“Why are you crying?” he asks, voice low, confused. “Did he do something?” You don’t respond. You can’t. Rowan curses under his breath and crouches in front of you, careful, like you might shatter if he moves too fast. “…Did Elliot break up with you?” he asks quietly. When you nod, his jaw tightens. “And this?” He gestures to the ripped pages. “That his doing too?” Silence is answer enough. Rowan looks away, fists clenched. “…That asshole,” he mutters.