Chapter 3

He had transferred into our class during senior year of high school.

To be in the same homeroom as me, Vivian had practically begged our counselor.

I had been confused back then.

"Didn't you say you hated the teachers assigned to that class?"

She had just linked her fingers through mine, beaming up at me.

"To be with you, Ethan, I can put up with anything."

Just as she wanted, we spent that entire summer studying together.

When senior year started, Vivian and I successfully landed in the exact same class.

Before I could even celebrate, Julian transferred in.

He had that arrogant, bad-boy smirk, and his gaze locked onto Vivian the second he walked through the door. Ignoring the homeroom teacher's request to introduce himself at the podium, he strolled down the aisle and dumped his backpack onto the empty desk next to Vivian—a seat left open because her usual desk mate was out sick.

"Hey there, pretty neighbor. I'm Julian Sterling. Stick with me and nobody'll mess with you."

Vivian ignored him completely, turning around to ask me for help with a calculus problem.

Sitting right behind her, watching it all unfold with my own eyes, my world went cold.

I knew the plot was kicking into gear.

Vivian's original desk mate never came back; rumors said they transferred out of state. Just like that, Julian stayed and became her permanent partner.

Every minor character bent backward just to force the male and female leads closer together.

It chilled me to the bone.

And that was only the beginning.

Shortly after, Julian and Vivian were chosen to co-host the school's annual Winter Gala.

Supposedly, it had been decided by a student body vote.

"Mr. Davis, that's impossible! It's not fair! He just got here! Ethan is way smarter, has better grades, and he's... he's way better looking!"

During class meeting, Vivian jumped to her feet and protested furiously. She looked completely outraged and fierce, though she snuck a quick, comforting wink at me.

"That's enough," the teacher cut her off. "The administration made the call. Anyone who doesn't want to participate can step down."

Her objection was shut down, but right after class ended, she slipped her hand into the hem of my shirt.

"Ethan... don't be mad, okay? Don't worry, there's no way I'm hosting with him! I only like you. I only want to share a stage with you. I only want to be with you, forever and ever."

Her eyes curved into sweet crescents, and her voice dripped with pure affection. It was sweet enough to melt anyone's heart.

Back then, I was always her first choice. She always stood by my side, unyielding.

So I let my guard down. I arrogantly assumed our bond was strong enough to defy the story's gravity, and I told her it was okay to do the show.

I truly believed someone that resolute would never change. I held onto that naive belief for years.

Yet even when she pushed him away, the plot kept forcing them together in ridiculous ways.

Once, I stayed home sick for a single day, and somehow they ended up on the exact same city bus, caught in the middle of a purse-snatching where Julian played the hero.

By the time I rushed to the police precinct, Vivian was huddled in a chair, crying her eyes out. Julian was crouched before her, cracking joke after joke, desperately trying to get her to smile, though she remained miserable.

"Vivian, I'm here. Let's go home."

The moment she laid eyes on me, her tears vanished into a radiant smile.

She sprinted toward me, throwing herself entirely into my arms, burying her face against my chest as she whispered,

"What took you so long? You have no idea how terrified I was... Ethan, will you read me a story tonight?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Yes! I need lots of hugs from you before I feel better..."

Leaning against me, she felt safe enough to let her guard down, acting completely spoiled and innocent.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the boy beside us. His fists were clenched tight, his dark eyes brooding as he stared at her brilliant smile.

I gave him a polite nod. He merely twisted his mouth into a sharp grin and mouthed two silent words.

I read his lips clearly: "Just wait."

And today, he had picked her up and driven away, flashing me that same arrogant smirk. Only this time, his lips mouthed: "Thanks for holding her for me."

I pulled the curtains shut, trying to pretend I hadn't seen it. But half an hour later, my phone chimed.

I unlocked it to find a picture message.

The photo was blindingly painful: two hands tightly clasped together, and a woman sleeping peacefully beside him.

No wonder.

The corners of my mouth twitched, but I couldn't even force a grimace.

No wonder she had walked away so easily, claiming she wanted nothing from me.

She had already built another home.

She was already having his child.

The massive wedding portrait hanging on our wall suddenly looked like a mocking joke. I ripped it down from the wall and smashed it onto the floor with all my might.