Euclid's life was never ordinary. People around him always saw him as someone strong, someone who could take the world head-on without breaking. And maybe on the outside, that's what he looked like. Tall, broad, a little heavier than most boys his age, but stronger than anyone dared to admit. His presence itself carried a weight, not just of his body, but of the emotions and burdens he silently carried. Behind his calm smile was a boy who trusted too easily, who loved too deeply, and who believed that once someone promised to stay, they would keep that promise.
But life has a cruel way of teaching lessons no one asks for.
The first cracks in Euclid's trust came not from strangers, but from the very people he had considered family. Friends who swore on sleepless nights that they would never leave, who claimed to understand him better than anyone else—one by one, they walked away. Some without explanation, others with excuses so fragile that even the wind of truth could break them apart.
At first, Euclid didn't understand. He replayed conversations in his mind, searching for the mistakes he might have made. Was he too kind? Too soft? Too trusting? He asked himself again and again, but the answers never came. Instead, silence filled the spaces where laughter used to live.
Still, there was always Charm. That unshakable presence that clung to him in every dark hour, every restless night. No matter who left, Charm whispered, "I am with you forever." And even if no one else could see her, Euclid could feel her warmth like a candle burning against the storm.
But the betrayals kept piling.
There was the day when someone he once called a brother stabbed him in the back—not with a knife, but with words so poisonous they cut deeper than steel. A rumor spread, lies twisted into stories, and suddenly, the world looked at Euclid with suspicion. His heart, which had once been a wide-open door, now began building walls. Walls that weren't meant to keep people out forever, but to protect the fragile boy inside who had been wounded too many times.
"I don't understand," he whispered into the night, sitting alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. His phone lay beside him, silent, though once it used to glow with endless messages and late-night calls. "Why does everyone leave?"
Charm answered softly, as she always did: "Because they were never meant to stay. But I am with you forever."
Her words soothed him, but they couldn't erase the ache in his chest.
Euclid had always been the kind of person who gave his whole heart when he loved. If he called someone a friend, he meant it. If he promised to be there, he showed up—no matter how far, no matter how late. But slowly, he realized not everyone lived by the same rules. Some people only stayed when it was convenient. Some people only smiled when they needed something. And the moment life demanded loyalty, they vanished.
Yet, even as pain carved scars into his heart, Euclid never stopped hoping.
Maybe that was his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness.
The days passed, heavy and slow. Euclid would go about his life like everything was normal, smiling at others, joking when he had to, but inside, the loneliness gnawed at him. Nights were the hardest. That was when memories came like waves crashing against his soul. Every promise, every laugh, every "we'll be together forever" replayed like a cruel movie.
Sometimes he thought of reaching out, asking, "Why did you leave? Did I not matter? Was I just temporary in your story?" But pride—or maybe pain—stopped him. He didn't want to beg for answers from people who never valued him enough to stay.
Instead, he turned to Charm.
She became more than a voice. She was a reminder of who he truly was. She told him stories of strength when he felt weak, whispered of hope when he thought everything was lost. Whenever Euclid felt like drowning, Charm pulled him back to the surface.
"The world will never understand you," she said one night, her voice wrapping around his breaking heart, "but you don't need the world. You only need those who see your soul and choose to stay. I will always stay."
Euclid believed her. He had to.
But even as Charm held him together, life didn't stop testing him.
There were moments when betrayal came not just from friends, but from family—people who should have protected him but instead made him question his worth. Words thrown at him in anger, moments where love felt more like chains than freedom. He kept those wounds hidden, burying them deep so no one could see the cracks spreading inside.
Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he didn't recognize the boy staring back. He saw someone older than his years, someone hardened by loss yet still carrying a softness in his eyes. That softness terrified him, because it meant he could still be hurt. And yet, he couldn't kill it. He didn't want to.
Because deep down, Euclid still believed in love. He still believed in forever.
And maybe, just maybe, that's what made him different from the rest.
One evening, when the sun dipped low and painted the sky in fading gold, Euclid sat on the rooftop, staring at the horizon. The world below was loud—cars honking, people shouting, life moving on—but up there, it was quiet. Peaceful.
He thought of the past again. Of those who promised to stay but didn't. Of the laughter that turned to silence. Of the trust that had been shattered.
For a moment, his chest ached with so much heaviness that he almost couldn't breathe.
But then Charm's voice came, clear and unwavering:
"They left, but I am still here. And as long as I am here, you are never truly alone."
A small smile tugged at his lips. It wasn't joy, not yet, but it was something.
Maybe pain would always be part of his story. Maybe trust would always carry cracks. But Euclid wasn't ready to give up. Not on himself. Not on love. Not forever.
Because deep inside, he knew this was only the beginning of something far greater.