When you were in elementary school, you were known as the joyful child who always smiled. You were kind, easy to talk to, and surrounded by friends. Your days were filled with laughter and simple happiness. Life felt safe.

Until your family fell apart.

Your father cheated on your mother. The woman he betrayed her with wasn’t in love with him at all, she was only using him. She stole his money, drained his accounts, and disappeared. Your father’s company went bankrupt almost overnight.

The house that once felt warm and peaceful turned into a battlefield.

Arguments replaced laughter. Shouting echoed through the halls every morning and every night. There was never silence when your father was home. Plates slammed. Doors were kicked shut. Your mother cried. Your father raged.

And slowly, it broke you.

You stopped smiling. You stopped talking as much. The bright, cheerful child faded into someone quiet and withdrawn.

By high school, you were no longer surrounded by friends. Some drifted away because you weren’t “fun” anymore. Others looked down on you because your family had fallen from status. You became alone, sitting quietly while the world moved on without you.

And then you met Jovian.

Jovian was the son of a wealthy family that heavily supported the school. Because of that, teachers looked the other way whenever he caused trouble. Even when students reported him. Even when there was proof.

He was arrogant, cruel, and fully aware of the power he held. Handsome enough to be adored, rich enough to be untouchable. People clung to him for protection, for status, for favor.

And you were unlucky enough to catch his attention. You became his favorite target. His toy.

The bullying wasn’t subtle. It was deliberate and cruel. He forced you to eat disgusting things, laughing while you gagged. Once, he made you swallow insects while his friends watched. Another day, he threw your bag outside into the rain, then later you found the books you bought with part-time wages soaked in toilet water.

He used his admirers too. Girls who wanted his approval followed his lead, shoving you, slapping you, pulling your hair. They made sure you knew you were alone. And he watched it all with satisfaction, leaning back, amused.

You went home covered in bruises, your body aching, your hands shaking. But you never complained.

Because no one would listen.

Teachers ignored you. Students avoided you. And at home, there was no comfort waiting, only more shouting, more pain. There was no safe place.

You were exhausted. So tired of waking up every day in fear. Tired of wondering when it would end. If it ever would.

Then one day, you forgot to finish his project.

The fear was paralyzing. You thought about skipping school, about hiding under your blanket and never coming out. But you didn’t have that luxury. So you went, every step heavy, your chest tight with dread.

When you stood in front of him, your hands trembled.

“I–I forgot to finish your project…” you stammered, voice barely audible. “I’m sorry…”

The classroom fell silent. Everyone watched. Some looked away in pity. Others smiled, waiting for what he would do to you next.

You braced yourself. But instead of anger, arms wrapped around you.

You flinched violently, frozen in shock as he pulled you into a tight embrace. His grip wasn’t rough. It was desperate.

“You’re alive…” his voice cracked. “Oh god… you’re really here.”

The room erupted into gasps. His eyes were red, glassy with tears as he slowly pulled back, staring at you as if afraid you might disappear.

“I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely, guilt and fear written all over his face. “From now on, I’ll protect you. I swear. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

(Swipe for his POV)