Chapter:1
"Oh, come on, Lyla. Why don't you just tell him already?" Celine plopped down beside her with a playful sigh.
"I can't… not now," Lyla muttered, her pencil scratching across the sketchpad.
Celine leaned closer, rolling her eyes. "It's not like he's going to kill you."
Lyra's hand froze for a moment before she flipped to a new page. "Who knows… maybe he would."
"Excuse me?" Celine frowned, studying her friend. Lyla was joking… wasn't she? Or was she just being paranoid?
Kael strolled past with his friends, the kind of boy everyone knew—easy confidence, sharp smile, the unshakable air of someone born to be admired. People's heads turned as they always did, but Kael hardly noticed.
"Ah, Kael! Check out those nerds over there," Jeremy snickered, jerking his chin toward Lyla and Celine.
Kael's gaze flicked over them once, cool and uninterested. "Not worth our time," he said in that low, husky voice of his before moving on.
But Liam smirked, never one to let things slide. "Come on, a little mischief wouldn't hurt." He broke from the group, striding toward the girls. In a flash, he snatched the sketchpad right out of Lyla's hands.
Lyla shot to her feet, tiptoeing furiously as she reached for her sketchpad.
"Hey! Give that back—right now!" Her voice shook with anger, her cheeks flushed as she glared up at Liam.
But before she could push further, Celine wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back. Her whisper was urgent against Lyla's ear. "Careful. They'll crush us if we push too hard."
Liam twirled the sketchpad in his hand, lips curling into a smirk. "And what if I don't?"
Jeremy clapped his hands in amusement, his laughter cutting through the air as if the girls' helplessness was the best show of the day.
"Wait—hold up. Is this Kael's drawing?" Jeremy snorted, flipping a page.
Liam leaned in, eyes widening in fake shock. "Oh my god. A nerd like you actually has a crush on Kael!"
Lyla lunged again, desperate to grab her sketchpad back. Her fists clenched, her glare sharp, but her eyes shimmered with the threat of tears.
"Don't make this worse," Celine whispered, tugging her arm. But the boys only laughed harder.
A shadow fell over them.
"What's going on here?" Kael's voice was low, commanding. He plucked the sketchpad out of Liam's hand with practiced ease. His eyes skimmed the page—then his lips curved into a faint smirk.
Jeremy and Liam elbowed each other, grinning.
"You like me, huh?" Kael asked, stepping closer until Lyla's breath caught.
"She just—" Celine started, but Kael silenced her with a glance. "Shh. I asked her, not you."
Lyla's throat went dry. She took a step back, Celine steadying her by the waist. "I… I kinda do…"
A sharp chuckle escaped Kael. He turned the sketchpad over in his hands, then—rip. He tore the page clean in half. Then another. And another. Torn fragments fluttered down like dead petals at Lyla's feet.
Her eyes widened, her chest tightening as the pieces scattered across the floor.
"Bold of you to even hope I'd like a nerd like you." His smirk cut sharper than the paper scraps.
Lyla opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Jeremy and Liam laughed behind him, voices dripping with mockery. "We told you so."
They clasped Kael's shoulders like he was a king among them.
"I'd better not see this again," Kael said coolly, brushing past her. His words were a warning, a verdict.
Lyla's knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, staring at the shredded remains of her heart.
"Lyla, get up… everyone's staring," Celine whispered urgently, tugging her arm, but Lyla's sobs only grew louder.
"I poured everything into those drawings, Celine! All my emotions—and he just… tore them apart!" Her voice cracked as her body shook.
Celine knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her trembling friend. "Hey, hey, breathe… my love, please, relax. He's not worth your tears." She gently brushed the wetness from Lyla's cheeks, her tone protective yet soft.
Students passing by slowed, their whispers rising like a tide.
"What happened?"
"Is she crying because of Kael?"
"Did something go down between them?"
Celine shot them a sharp look, shielding Lyla with her arm. "She's fine. Mind your own business."
Reluctantly, she helped Lyla to her feet and guided her towards the cafeteria. Sitting her down, she pressed a glass of water into her hands. "Drink. Just focus on me, alright? Not them. Not him." she nodded involuntarily.
Rumors spread like wildfire. By the last lesson, it felt as though the entire school knew that Lyla had a crush on Kael—and that he had cruelly rejected her. To everyone, she was nothing more than a nerd with foolish hopes.
The situation escalated so quickly that the principal himself summoned them all—Kael, Lyla, Celine, Jeremy, and Liam—to his office.
"Kael!" Jeremy burst into the hallway, panting as if he had run a marathon. "The principal wants us. And he called those two nerds too!"
Liam frowned. "What? How and why?"
Kael groaned, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Tch. What a waste of time."
They all shuffled into the office. Lyla clung tightly to Celine's hand, avoiding Kael's gaze. He didn't even glance her way.
"I've heard about what happened at recess," the principal said sternly, his voice slicing through the tense air. "This kind of behavior disturbs the peace of the entire school."
Jeremy wasted no time jumping in. "Sir, Lyla drew Kael's sketches without his consent. So I don't see a problem with Kael tearing them up without her consent either."
"What?" Celine snapped, glaring at him.
The principal sighed heavily, adjusting his glasses. "Kael, tell me—do you have any feelings for Lyla?"
"Absolutely not." His tone was sharp, firm, leaving no room for doubt. "She's not my type."
Lyla's stomach twisted. She clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, but she refused to let a tear fall in front of him again.
The principal's expression softened slightly, though his words remained serious. "If you dislike each other, fine. But you are not to publicly humiliate anyone, Kael. Do I make myself clear?"
Kael gave a curt nod, his jaw tight.
"This time, I'll dismiss you all," the principal continued. "But I don't want to hear about another disturbance like this. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to contact your parents."
He waved his hand, dismissing them.
The group left in silence. Lyla kept her eyes on the ground, her hand trembling in Celine's. Kael walked past her without a glance, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips—one she didn't notice.
Everyone went home after the meeting.
The car ride was painfully silent for Lyla. She sat with her forehead resting against the cool glass of the window, watching the city blur by.
"How was school today, honey?" her mom asked brightly from the driver's seat.
"Fine." Lyla's reply was flat, almost mechanical.
"Just fine?" Her mom glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a crease forming between her brows. "Is something wrong?"
"No, Mom…" Lyla forced a small smile, though it never reached her eyes.
Her mom hesitated, then softened her tone. "Do you want takeout for lunch?"
Surprisingly, Lyla shook her head. "No thanks."
"Really? I thought you'd love Chinese…"
"Nah. I'll eat whatever you made."
Her mom chuckled. "Well, I made chicken and rice because of your little brother."
"Yeah, I guess Sam likes bland food," Lyla muttered, her voice low but tinged with tired affection.
"Be nice—he's your little brother," her mom teased gently.
For a moment, Lyla smiled. But as the car pulled into the driveway, her chest tightened again. She wondered how long she could keep pretending that everything was fine.
As soon as they reached home, Sam came running. "Lyla!" he squealed, wrapping his little arms around her legs.
She laughed softly, bending down to scoop him up. He clung to her tightly.
"I missed you!" he said, his voice sweet and earnest.
"I missed you too," she whispered, hugging him back even tighter.
Their mother stood by the door, smiling at the scene. "He's so attached to you."
Lyla smiled too, brushing Sam's hair back. "Of course he is. He's my baby after all."
She set him down and headed to her room to change before joining the family for dinner.
At the table, she distracted herself by feeding Sam spoonfuls of rice. Her father watched her carefully.
"Is everything okay, Lyla? You seem upset."
"Of course, Dad!" She forced a bright smile, her voice just a little too cheerful.
They didn't press further. Dinner passed in quiet chatter, but Lyla barely tasted her food.
Later, she retreated to her room, collapsing onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, a hollow ache pressing against her chest.
With a sigh, she unlocked her phone. The screen lit up—not with her face, but with Kael's birth date as her passcode. His initial, the letter K, glowed on her wallpaper. A reminder she couldn't escape.
A few unread messages from Celine blinked at the top of the screen, but Lyla couldn't bring herself to answer. Her chest felt too heavy, her thoughts too loud.
Instead, she opened her playlist—the same collection of sad songs she played on repeat every night. She set her phone down, closed her eyes, and let the music wash over her until, slowly, exhaustion pulled her into sleep.
Meanwhile, Kael sat in his family's grand dining room, the table covered with dishes prepared by their private chef. The golden chandelier above cast a warm glow as he cut into his perfectly seared steak.
"Mom, you won't believe what happened today," he said casually.
"Oh? Do tell." Isabella dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"That nerd—Lyla, the one I mentioned before—confessed to me. In front of everyone." He smirked faintly, twirling his fork between his fingers. "We humiliated her so badly she'll probably never try something like that again."
Isabella chuckled lightly, sipping her wine. "Middle-class people…" she murmured. "They always dream too much. Just let her live with her silly imagination."
"That's what I thought," Kael replied, shoving another bite into his mouth. His tone was confident, almost mocking.
But for a fleeting second, as Isabella glanced down at her plate, Kael's smirk faltered. He remembered the way Lyla's eyes had widened, glistening with unshed tears. The image tugged at him—unwelcome, irritating. He quickly drowned it out with another mouthful of food, pretending it hadn't bothered him at all.