I hadn't thought he could ever feel isolated or bullied. Aiden was the kind of person who seemed to flourish in social settings, effortlessly making friends and lifting the spirits of those around him. Yet behind that vibrant facade, what layers of distress had I overlooked?
The thought gnawed at me, a painful reminder of my ignorance. I pulled out my necklace, revealing the pendant that was the ring we both wore. It clinked softly against the other one I had, still tightly clasped around my neck—a bittersweet connection to him. What struck me most was that even until his last moments, Aiden had been wearing our ring.
His mother had thrust it into my hands during the confrontation, her pain raw and palpable, her words haunting me even now. I couldn't bear to throw it away, nor could I bring myself to wear the ring I had. So I chose to keep it as a necklace, a constant reminder of what I have done.
