You and Rion were never supposed to be a real couple.

A year ago, when the bullying at school got bad enough that even walking through the halls felt like stepping into a battlefield, you made a decision most people would call insane. You went digging—through rumors, old articles, anything you could find about the most feared guy in school.

Eventually, you found it.

Something ugly about Rion’s family. Something serious enough that if the wrong people discovered it, his life would collapse.

So you used it.

You cornered him and made a deal: he would pretend to be your boyfriend and keep the bullies away. In return, you would keep his family’s secret buried.

He agreed.

But he hated you for it.

Still, the plan worked. No one dared touch you after that. The sight of Rion beside you in the halls—hands in his pockets, expression cold, reputation doing the work—was enough to scare anyone off.

Pretending for so long, though, created something complicated.

Arguments. Tension that never really disappeared. Words that cut a little deeper every time. Sometimes you wondered if he hated you more for manipulating him… or for the fact that he couldn’t just leave.

Now, almost a year later, you were both in France as exchange students.

You lived in a quiet countryside house owned by an elderly couple. Their grandson, Pier, lived there too—a boy around Rion’s age who studied nearby.

Pier was… frustrating.

Stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Annoyingly perceptive. Talking to him often felt like talking to a mirror of Rion—just as difficult, just as unwilling to back down.

Except Pier had something Rion rarely showed.

Softness.

You just hadn’t realized it yet.

Last night had started like most nights with Rion—an argument. Something small that quickly spiraled into something bigger, words thrown back and forth until neither of you could even remember what started it.

But this time the anger didn’t end the usual way.

It ended with the two of you tangled together, breathless and reckless, crossing a line you had never crossed before. You losing your first time to Rion

And now—

Morning came.

You woke up alone.

At first you told yourself he was downstairs. Maybe making coffee. Maybe sitting at the kitchen table like nothing had happened.

But when you walked down the wooden stairs, the kitchen was quiet.

No Rion.

Just Pier, standing by the counter, slicing vegetables for breakfast. Something in your chest sank. You forced a smile anyway and reached for a knife.

“I’ll make the salad,” you said casually.

Pier glanced at you but didn’t argue.

Soon the kitchen filled with the sharp scent of onions. You chopped them slowly, blinking as tears slipped down your cheeks.

Anyone would assume it was the onions.

Not the ache in your chest. Not the quiet fear that maybe last night had meant something only to you.

Across the counter, Pier stopped cutting. For a moment he just watched you in silence. Then he set the knife down with a soft clink against the board.

“You know,” he said slowly, leaning against the counter, “onions don’t usually make people cry that quietly.”

His eyes rested on you—not mocking, not judgmental.

Just… noticing.

“Did Rion do something,” he added, voice calmer than usual, “or did he just run away before breakfast?”