The classroom buzzed around me like a hive I couldn't quite understand. Words flew, laughter ricocheted off the walls, sneakers squeaked against the floor. None of it felt like it belonged to me.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
I was twenty-three. CEO of a multinational company. My name had appeared on magazine covers, investment articles, and Forbes lists. I had dined with prime ministers and argued with men three times my age in boardrooms lined with glass. Yet here I was, sitting at a wooden desk carved with doodles, pretending to be just another high school student.
And the first girl I spoke to—the one whose gaze had felt like an anchor in the storm—had rejected me without a pause.
Emily.
Her name still lingered on my tongue like an aftertaste I didn't want to admit I enjoyed.
"Hey, new guy!" A boy leaned over from the next row, smirking. "You really went straight for Emily, huh? Bold. Didn't even last five minutes before she shut you down."
The others around him chuckled.
I forced a polite smile. "I guess I was too forward."
Inside, though, my chest tightened. Too forward? No. I was just… me. Maybe that's the problem.
"Don't take it personally," another girl whispered across the aisle. "She doesn't date anyone. It's like… her policy. But you're cute. You'll find someone else."
Someone else.
The phrase scratched at me. I hadn't come here for "someone else."
The teacher walked in before I could reply. The room fell quiet. Lessons began—numbers, history dates, conjugations of verbs in a language that was still foreign on my tongue. My mind absorbed little. My gaze drifted often, always back to her.
Emily sat near the window, her chin propped on her hand. Sunlight outlined her hair like threads of gold. She didn't spare me a glance. Not once.
Why does it bother me so much? I'd faced rejection before—partners who turned down investments, rivals who sneered, women who wanted the title but not the man. I should be immune. But her indifference pierced sharper than boardroom daggers.
The bell rang. Chairs screeched, backpacks rustled. I lingered, letting the crowd thin.
When Emily rose, I stood too.
"Emily," I said softly.
She froze. Just for a second. Then she turned, eyes cool. "You should stop saying my name like we're close. We're not."
Her words cut. Yet I couldn't step back.
"I know," I admitted. "But I'd like to change that."
"Why?" she asked flatly. "What do you want from me?"
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us.
What did I want? Love, maybe. Connection. A piece of something real. But the words jammed in my throat.
"Nothing you don't want to give," I said finally.
Her gaze lingered, sharp as glass. Then she walked past me, leaving only the faint trace of her perfume behind.
Cold. Completely closed off.
Still, I followed. Not beside her—just far enough back that it didn't feel like stalking. My pride screamed at me, but my heart ignored it.
Outside, the courtyard filled with clusters of students. Emily's friends caught up with her, chatting, laughing. She smiled at them—soft, genuine. The kind of smile she hadn't spared for me.
That smile… it was unfair.
I sighed, leaning against a wall. Alex, what are you doing? You came here to find love, but maybe you're chasing a ghost.
"Yo, new guy!" the same boy from before slapped my shoulder. "You're seriously into her, huh? Brave, man. Brave but hopeless."
"Hopeless?" I echoed.
"Emily doesn't date. Period. Doesn't matter if you're rich, poor, handsome, whatever. She's… complicated."
Complicated.
The word intrigued me.
"Why?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Rumors. Family stuff. Past heartbreak. No one knows for sure. But if you're thinking of making her yours, you're just setting yourself up."
"Maybe I like a challenge."
The boy laughed. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you."
When he left, I stayed where I was, watching her laugh with her friends. Something in her posture hinted at distance, even as she smiled. Like she was performing happiness rather than living it.
And I knew then—I couldn't walk away.
---
Later that day, the rain came. Sheets of it, drumming against windows and soaking the courtyard. Students huddled under umbrellas or sprinted through puddles.
I had a driver waiting at the gate, but I didn't go. Instead, I found her again. Emily stood under the awning, alone, gazing at the downpour.
I approached slowly. "Forgot your umbrella?"
She turned, startled. "Why are you still here?"
"I was hoping you'd let me walk you home."
Her brow furrowed. "And if I said no?"
"Then I'd still walk behind you," I admitted. "To make sure you're safe."
For the first time, her expression shifted—not quite soft, but not entirely cold either. A flicker of something unspoken.
"Persistent," she murmured.
"Is that a bad thing?"
She studied me, rain misting the air between us. Finally, she shook her head. "Do what you want. I can't stop you."
So we walked. The rain splashed against us, soaking our clothes. I held my blazer over her head. She didn't thank me, but she didn't push it away either.
Halfway down the street, she spoke.
"You're strange."
"In what way?"
"You don't belong here. You look at this place like it's foreign. And your words… they don't sound like a teenager's."
I smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm older than I look."
She glanced at me, curiosity flashing. "How old are you really?"
My heart thudded. I couldn't tell her. Not yet. "Old enough to know what I want."
"And what is it you want?"
"You," I whispered before I could stop myself.
Her steps faltered. For a moment, the rain was the only sound. Then she shook her head, quickening her pace.
"You're insane," she said.
"Maybe," I admitted. "But that doesn't make it less true."
We reached her street. She stopped, turning to face me.
"This is where you stop following me," she said firmly. "If you cross this line, you'll regret it."
Her words chilled me. Not because of anger, but because of the pain beneath them.
"Why?" I asked softly.
But she didn't answer. She turned, walking into the rain until her silhouette blurred.
I stood frozen, drenched, heart pounding.
What is she hiding? Why does it feel like the closer I get, the more dangerous it becomes?
The storm raged, but it wasn't the rain that left me trembling.
Something about her… something I couldn't yet name.
And for the first time since stepping into this school, I felt it—this wasn't just about finding love anymore. This was about uncovering a truth that could break me.
---
The next morning, whispers filled the hallway. Eyes darted toward me, hushed voices carrying rumors.
I caught fragments. "Emily… the new guy… walking together… in the rain…"
When I entered the classroom, every gaze shifted between me and her. Emily sat rigid, her face pale. She didn't look up once.
The teacher's voice droned in the background, but my focus was on her clenched fists, the way her shoulders trembled slightly.
Something was wrong.
At lunch, I tried again. "Emily—"
She slammed her book shut, rising abruptly. "Stay away from me."
The room fell silent.
Her voice had cracked.
I reached for her wrist without thinking. "Emily, talk to me—"
Her eyes flashed, desperate, wounded. She yanked free, whispering so only I could hear:
"You don't understand. If you stay near me… you'll get hurt."
And then she ran.
Out of the classroom.
Out of my reach.
Leaving me standing in the middle of a hundred watching eyes, my chest hollow and burning.
Get hurt? What did she mean?
The question echoed in my mind, louder than the whispers around me.
I didn't have the answer. But I knew this—whatever Emily was hiding, it wasn't just heartbreak. It was something darker.
And I wasn't going to walk away.
Not now.
Not ever.