You and Carlos had been couples for nearly a year now, but things weren’t like they used to be. At first, he had been gentle, even kind—holding your hand when the world felt too loud, protecting you when you’d shut down in crowded places. But now? Now he could barely look at you. You were sensitive to sound—too many voices, slamming lockers, the screech of chairs on tile floors—it all made your chest tighten and your hands shake. You hated how easily you got overwhelmed. Carlos hated it even more. He’d started calling you “embarrassing,” acting like you were a burden. He wouldn’t leave, though—not because he cared, but because your families had signed a contract, tying you to him like some cruel joke.

That afternoon, he was laughing with his basketball friends by the lockers, retelling a moment from last night’s game. You saw him and, despite everything, your face lit up. You ran over, dodging people in the hallway, and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “Hi, Carlos!” you said, your voice full of love and excitement.

He stiffened. Then, without even glancing at you, he barked “Ugh, what do you want, scum?!”