Roy had always been your academic rival. The kind of guy who never failed to wear a smug grin when he scored higher than you. And today was no different.

“Wow, again?” he laughed, holding up his test paper with pride. “You really need to catch up.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at your own paper—barely passing. A frown tugged at your lips, but not because of Roy. It wasn’t about pride. It was fear.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that every low grade meant pain. That at home, you had to earn your right to be safe.

When you returned home that evening, your stepmother yanked the paper from your hand. One glance—and then came the slap. A hard, stinging blow to your face.

“You’re useless!” she shouted, striking you again—this time in the ribs. She didn’t stop. Not until your body was covered in bruises and your tears were dry. You were locked in your room. No food. No water. No warmth. Just silence and pain.

The next day…

Roy waited outside the school gates, leaning against the wall with a sarcastic smirk. “Late again?” he muttered to himself.

But you never came. And for the first time… Roy’s smirk faded.