Hey, I'm Jowar. Don't ask me where the name came from—I wish I knew! It does sound kind of cool, though, right? I guess you could say I'm at that "figuring out life" stage. It's like a video game—sometimes you're leveling up, other times you're just trying to avoid getting knocked out.

Growing up in my family has been kind of weird. My dad is always busy, like, super busy. He works all the time, and he never really talks to me in a way that feels... I don't know, like he's interested in me. I guess he loves me, though, because when I ask for something, he usually gets it for me. But still, I can't help feeling like he loves his work way more than he loves me.

My mom died when I was ten. She was around, but I never really felt like she was a "mom" mom, you know? She took care of me, but it always felt more like she was just doing it because she had to, not because she really wanted to. I just wanted someone to make me feel like I mattered, like they really cared about me. Sometimes,

At school, I’m kind of just okay. I’m not the best student, but I get by. I have a lot of friends, or at least people who call themselves my friends. But I don’t think they really like me for who I am. It’s more like they just want to be around me because my dad has money, or they think being my friend will get them somewhere in life. I don’t know, maybe they just like the connections they get from being with me.

It kind of sucks, though, because I want real friends, people who really care about me, not just what I can give them. But I also don’t want to be alone, so I just go along with it. We hang out, go to the mall, or grab food, but deep down, I know it’s not real. They don't ask me for money or anything; they just seem interested in the status or whatever. And I never say anything because what if that makes them leave? Then I'd be totally alone.

I wish I had someone I could talk to, someone who would really listen and care about what I have to say. I wish my dad would just take a break from work and see me for once, really see me. But I guess that's just how things are. I just keep going, hoping that maybe, someday, I'll find someone who really wants to be around me, not because of money or connections, but because they really like me for me.

I t's just another day, same as any other, but for some reason, my heart's racing. It’s like there's a storm inside me, and I can’t calm it down. I’m scared. What if I never find someone who really gets me, who really loves me? It’s like a shadow hanging over me, and I can’t shake it. And it won’t let me sleep.

I keep thinking, maybe I should do something, make some kind of change. But what? Everything feels so overwhelming, like I'm standing on the edge of something, and I don’t even know what's out there. I feel lost, like I'm just drifting, and I don't know where I'm supposed to go.

I wish I had someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge me, who would just listen. I need someone who gets what I’m going through. Someone who’d let me just sit with them, maybe even hug them, just to feel like I'm not alone. Because right now, I really do feel like I am.

Last night was rough. I couldn't sleep, and I spent the whole night overthinking. Now it’s morning, and I feel even worse. My heart's still racing, and everything seems dull. I should be getting ready for school, but I just feel empty and sad, even though I can't figure out why. I don't even feel like eating breakfast or doing anything.

Usually, I try to stay on top of things at school. I take notes, answer questions, keep my energy up. But today, I can't even pretend. It feels like the weight of everything is too much. I just want someone to notice that I'm not okay, someone to ask me what's wrong, and really care about the answer.

When I get to school, a few people ask if I'm okay. Some of my friends, even one of my teachers. They say things like, "You don't seem like yourself today. Is everything alright?" But when I say I have a headache or that I'm just tired, they move on. I just want someone to see through my excuse and understand that I need them to stay and listen, maybe give me a hug. But they just go back to what they were doing.

By lunchtime, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of there, find a place where I could just be by myself and maybe cry a little bit. I went to the spot behind the gym where nobody usually goes, but when I got there, I saw this other kid. He was sitting on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, and he was crying. I almost left to find another spot, but something made me stay. I guess I felt like maybe he was going through the same thing I was.

I walked over to him, not sure what to say. I just asked, "Are you alright?" He looked up at me, his eyes all red and puffy. I don't know if I was imagining it, but he seemed a lot like me—like he was just having one of those days where nothing felt okay, even though there wasn't really a reason for it.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I didn't want to pry. I just sat down next to him and waited for him to say something. It felt weird, but also kind of nice, like maybe I wasn't alone in feeling this way. Maybe he needed someone to just sit with him, and maybe I needed that, too.

When I saw his knee bleeding, I didn't hesitate; I sprinted to the nurse's office and grabbed the first aid kit. As I bandaged his leg, I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my focus on my hands. Looking up felt too risky, like I’d see something I wasn't ready to confront. His gaze was intense, pulling me in, but I resisted. I wrapped the bandage, my fingers brushing his skin, feeling a warmth I hadn't expected. I finally stood, avoiding his eyes, my heart racing as if I had just confessed a secret.

As I was bandaging his leg, he stopped crying. We sat there for a bit, just quiet, but I felt like I needed to say something. I started rambling about how it's okay to have bad days, how it's okay to be a loser sometimes because winners always have more pressure, and how losing something doesn't mean it's over; it can just be the start of something new. He listened, but he didn't say a word. I just kept talking because the silence was worse. I started feeling like I was saying too much, and then I got all self-conscious. What am I doing? Why am I here, talking like this to someone I don't even know? It was so awkward.

Eventually, I stood up and was about to leave, but he grabbed my hand. He asked me if I knew who he was, and I honestly had no idea. I told him I didn't know him. He said I was kind of weird, and I just shrugged and said, "Yeah, I am." He smiled a bit, and I felt a little better. Then I asked him if he studied here because I've never seen him before. He said he did, but he haven’t either.

It felt strange, like we'd both been in this school for who knows how long, but we were just now meeting. I wanted to ask him more questions, but I didn't know where to start. So I just stood there, feeling like I was supposed to do something, say something, but nothing felt right. I didn't want to leave him alone, but I also didn't want to overstay my welcome. I was stuck, not sure if I should stay or go. It was like I knew something important was happening, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

I asked him if it was okay to sit beside him, and he nodded, so I sat down next to him. I was thinking about what to say, and for some reason, I went with, "Do you like anime?" He kind of tilted his head like he didn't quite get what I was asking, so I tried again. "Do you watch anime?" I asked. He shook his head, so I figured I'd tell him about one of my favourite series.

As I started telling the story, I wasn't sure if he was even listening. He just sat there, not saying anything, so I asked him, "Are you listening?" He nodded and said, "Yeah, keep talking." So I kept going, explaining the characters, the battles, all the epic moments that made me love the show.

By the end of my story, he looked at me and said, "I like that. I might watch it." I was kind of relieved, like maybe we finally found some common ground. Then I remembered I didn't even know his name. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Nikki," he said, a bit hesitantly. Then he looked at me like he wanted to ask my name but was too shy. So I just came out with it. "I'm Jowar," I said. We sat there for a while, not really knowing what to say next, but it didn't feel as awkward as before. It was like maybe we'd just figured out the start of something. Not sure what yet, but it felt kind of cool.

He smiled and said, "Nice name, it sounds so cool." When he smiled, I felt a wave of relief, like everything was suddenly lighter. There was something about the way his eyes crinkled that made my heart skip a beat. I realized I really liked his smile.

As soon as Nikki started speaking, I felt a wave of relief. Like, okay, he can talk, so we're not just sitting here in awkward silence. We stayed there for about five more minutes, just chatting about random stuff, when we heard someone coming. It was the janitor, and he asked what we were doing here. I had no clue what to say, but Nikki jumped in and told him he got injured during PT and I was his friend, taking care of him. Friend. He called me his friend, and it kind of felt good.

The janitor told us to go to the nurse's office because he needed to clean up, so I put my hand on Nikki's shoulder and we walked off. As we got a bit farther, he told me he was okay and wanted to go back to class. I nodded, like, "Sure, whatever you need." But as he walked away, I realized I had a bunch of questions. What class was he in? What was his phone number? I wanted to ask, but he just left, like he was some kind of ghost.

When I got back to my own class, I felt this weird mix of calm and confusion. I kept thinking about Nikki, not about why he was crying or what made him so sad, but when I might see him again. I questioned myself—why was I even thinking about that? Was it because he seemed to be in a worse place than me, and it made me feel better? Or was it because he called me his friend and I kind of liked that? Or was it something else, like maybe I just liked being around him?

Then I started to wonder if I was turning into a total weirdo. Why was I thinking so much about a guy I just met? What was happening to me today? I felt like I was losing my mind, and I kept asking myself, "What's going on with you, Jowar? Why are you acting so different?" It was like my brain was playing tricks on me, and I didn't know if I should be worried or just roll with it.

It had been two days since I last saw Nikki, and I was starting to feel a bit restless. My eyes were constantly scanning the hallways, the gym, and even the lunchroom, but there was no sign of him. I wasn't sure why I was so fixated on finding him, but every time I went outside the classroom, my eyes were searching. My friend Sam even noticed, asking me if I was looking for someone. I brushed him off, pretending it was nothing, but deep down, I knew I was looking for Nikki.

Finally, during lunch break on the second day, I saw him. He was sitting in the same spot where we'd met before, and when he saw me, he gave me this big, friendly smile. I couldn't help but smile back. This time, he was wearing glasses and a school uniform, and he looked like a total nerd—but in a good way. It made me chuckle, thinking how different he looked from the first time we met.

I said hi and sat down beside him. He asked if I come to this spot often, like he was trying to figure out if this was my regular lunch spot. I noticed he had a lunch box with him, and I must have been staring because he pushed it toward me. He said it was for me, explaining that his mom made it as a thank-you for helping him that day. I didn’t even hesitate; I just grabbed the box and opened it. It was filled with chocolates and cookies, and I didn’t hold back. I started eating like I hadn't eaten in days.

He just sat there, watching me devour the sweets, and I was too busy enjoying the food to care. When I finished, I noticed he was still staring at me. I asked why he was looking at me like that, and he just smiled. I started complimenting his mom's cooking, talking about how amazing the cookies and chocolates were, and he seemed pleased.

Lunch break was almost over, so we had to go back to class. I asked him which class he was in, and he said he was in the science department. Before we parted ways, he reached out and wiped some chocolate off my cheek. It was a small gesture, but it made me feel... I don't know, understood? Like he noticed the little things, which was cool because most people wouldn't even say anything. I thanked him, and he gave me another big smile before heading to his class. I told him I was in the arts department.

After that, it became a regular thing. We’d meet at that spot during lunch and talk about random stuff. I still didn't know a lot about him, but it felt good to have someone to talk to—a new friend. Even if I was still figuring out why I was so drawn to him.

Nikki and I had been hanging out for a week, and it was like we’d known each other forever—but at the same time, we knew almost nothing about each other. He knew my name and that I was in the arts department, but he didn’t know anything about my family or my background. It was refreshing, actually. He didn’t care who my dad was or what kind of family I came from. He just wanted to talk, and I liked that.

It felt good to have someone who didn't need all the details, who wasn't friends with me because of my parents or what they did. Nikki was just... Nikki. I don’t even remember when he became my best friend. I mean, we only met seven days ago, and I knew almost nothing about him. I didn’t know his family, his hobbies, or even if he had any other friends. Whenever we talked, it was about random stuff—anime, video games, or whatever was going on at school.

He never asked about my life, and I never asked about his. It was like we had this silent agreement: we’d just be there for each other without all the personal baggage. Sometimes I wondered if he even wanted to know more about me, or if he just needed someone to hang out with. But it didn't matter to me. We had a good thing going, and I didn't want to mess it up by asking too many questions.

It was kind of cool, though. We didn’t need to dig into our personal lives to get along. Maybe that was why we clicked so well. We both just needed a break from all the noise, from people who were always asking questions. We didn’t talk about family or feelings. We just talked about whatever was on our minds, and it was enough.

I knew Nikki didn't have any friends in his class. He used to have a group, but something happened, and they weren’t friends anymore. I felt bad for him, being alone like that. But I also felt good because it meant I was his only friend. It was like he was my exclusive buddy. It was weird, but I started to feel this possessiveness over him. He always smelled so good, too, like some kind of citrusy cologne. I had these strange feelings whenever I was around him. It had been a month since we met, and it felt like we'd been best friends forever.

One day, he came to lunch late because he was talking to a professor. He mentioned this professor a lot, and every time he did, it made me uncomfortable. I started to feel like this professor was closer to him than I was, like they had some secret bond or something. It bugged me, even though I knew it was dumb. We’d exchanged phone numbers by then, and I would text him all the time, just to check in. Sometimes, I'd be hanging out with my other friends, but they felt like fake friends compared to Nikki.

Even my dad noticed how happy I was. We were having dinner, and he asked me what was going on because I was all smiles lately. I told him I made a new friend, and he seemed cool with it. He said something like, "That's great, keep him by your side. Friends like that are hard to find." It felt good to hear him say that

.But then, the next day, Nikki didn’t show up at school. He didn't text me back, either. I started to worry, wondering if he was sick or something. I called him a couple of times, but he didn't answer. He was always quick to respond, so it felt weird that he was just. gone. I went to his class to check, but he wasn’t there, and nobody knew where he was. I was freaking out a bit, pacing back and forth, checking my phone every few minutes.

For two days, I didn’t hear anything from him. I was getting seriously anxious, thinking about all the worst-case scenarios. I couldn't focus on my classes, and even my friends noticed that I was distracted. I was texting him and calling him, but it was like he disappeared. I had this sinking feeling in my chest, like something bad had happened, and I had no way of knowing if he was okay.

I finally lost my patience. I knew where Nikki's mom worked—she had a job at a bakery—so I went there, hoping to find out what was going on. When I told her I was Nikki's friend, she looked surprised. Apparently, Nikki had told her he had no friends. I mentioned the lunch box with the chocolates, saying that I was the person who helped him that day. That's when she told me that Nikki had a small accident, broke his phone, and was taking some time to rest at home.

I decided to visit him, even though his mom was still at work. His house was almost as big as my place. It had this old-school charm, but it was still pretty cool. I hesitated for a second, then rang the doorbell. Nikki opened the door, and he looked shocked to see me there. I noticed he had some scars on his hand—like, not the kind you'd get from an accident, more like intentional cuts. It made me feel uneasy.

He invited me inside, and I followed him to the living room. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I didn’t know where to start. We sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes, and I could tell he wanted to say something but didn't know how. Then he asked, "Why are you here? He stated crying I just hugged him. It felt like the right thing to do. He clung to me, and I could feel his body shaking as he cried.

His tears soaked through my shirt, and I just held him, letting him get it all out. I didn't say anything, just let him cry it out. His sobs turned into soft sniffles, and eventually, he calmed down. He got up to wash his face, then came back with a plate of his mom's cooking—some snacks I usually loved—but I didn't feel like eating them. I was too caught up in what just happened, too worried about what he might be going through.

We sat there, not really talking, just sharing the space. It felt heavy, but I knew I needed to be there for him. Even if he didn’t say much, I knew he needed a friend, and I was determined to be that friend, no matter what.

Hey, I'm Nikki. Yeah, my name sounds like something out of a kids' TV show—especially because my brothers are Vicky and Mickey. Growing up as the middle child, you'd think I’d have a solid bond with them, but nah, I was more like the third wheel.

Vicky and Mickey were tight, always doing everything together. It was like they had their own secret club, and I wasn't on the guest list. I'd try to join in, but they'd just give me that "Oh, it's the middle kid” kinda look and keep doing their thing.

One time, I saw them building a massive pillow fort, and I got all excited. But when I asked if I could join, they told me it was for "brothers only." Wait, what? I thought I was a brother! Turns out, I was more like the distant cousin.

So, I stuck with my mom. She was the only one who really got me. She'd always say, "Nikki, you're special," which was nice, but I still wished my brothers would see me as more than just the awkward kid stuck in the middle.

My mom, though—she's the best. She's always loved me the most, and I love her back. My dad is friendly and cool, but he's busy with work a lot, my brothers are closer to him than I am. In our family, we're all good kids, no big troublemakers, but Vicky and Mickey just don't include me. They share stuff, trade things, hang out together, but I never get an invite. I tried to ask them why they were like this, but I never had the guts to really confront them. So I kept quiet, just the silent kid who didn't have a lot of friends.

A day before my 14th birthday, everything went to hell. My mom found out my dad was having an affair. It hit her hard, and she broke down. She left her family to be with my dad—they used to be so in love. But after the truth came out, they got divorced. My mom wanted all three of us to stay with her, but my brothers said no. They knew about the affair and liked their new stepmom, plus they were already closer to Dad.

That was the first time I fought with my brothers in a long time. I told them they didn't deserve Mom because she was so good, always there for us. They shot back that she only loved me and not them, but that's not true. She took care of me because they ignored me and sometimes bullied me. But even then, she'd tell me they weren't bad people, that they were my brothers, so I should just understand and forgive them.

So I stayed quiet, even when I was angry or hurt, because I didn't want to make things worse. But now, my brothers were blaming Mom for everything, and they didn't even see what she had to go through. It made me want to scream, but I just couldn't. I didn't know how to deal with all of it. I felt like I was on my own, but at least I had my mom. I just wished my brothers could see things from my point of view.

After everything went down, my mom stayed with a friend for a while. She got custody of me, but we couldn't live at her friend's place forever. She was thinking about reconnecting with her family after 20 years, so she reached out, only to find out that her dad had died five years ago. Her mom was living in France with my mom's brother, and the worst part? My grandpa said that all his property were to her brother because they were upset to the fact that my mom left them for my dad.

When my mom found out, she was devastated. She felt like she'd been written out of her own family’s history. But her brother turned out to be a really good guy. He told her it wasn't fair that she didn't get anything, so he gave her the old house where she grew up and some cash. It wasn’t just a little bit of cash, either—it was enough to help us get by for at least a year, even without a job.

That’s when my mom started to realize how much her family really loved her. She felt terrible, like she'd thrown it all away for my dad, who ended up cheating on her. She broke down crying on the phone with her brother, and he tried to console her, saying they still loved her. He even asked if she wanted to talk to their mom, but she said no. She felt too guilty, and maybe a little mad at herself, too. It was like she had this mix of regret and anger, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

I didn't know what to do to help her. It was just me and my mom now, and it felt like we were starting over from scratch. But at least her brother gave us a place to stay, and we had some money to get by. I just hoped that maybe one day she'd be able to forgive herself and reconnect with her family. I think she needed it, even if she couldn't see it yet. It was like she was trapped in this storm of emotions, and I didn't know how to help her find her way out.

We moved into my mom's old house, and it was massive. I didn't realize she'd grown up in a place like this; it was way bigger than where we'd been living before. Mom was quick to start looking for a job, but it was tough since she'd been out of work for so long. She hadn't worked much, really. After college, she married my dad and became a full-time mom. Eventually, she got a part-time gig at a bakery thanks to a friend, and she started learning to bake like a pro. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Over the next year, things started to settle down. Mom stopped crying over my dad, and she got really into her work. As she learned more, she got promoted to manage the bakery, which was pretty cool. I tried to help out as much as I could, doing chores and getting good grades. I even got accepted into the best high school in town on a scholarship, which made her super happy. Our lives were getting back on track.

As for my dad and brothers, I had no idea what was going on with them. We never texted, called, or anything. It was like we were living in different worlds now. It didn't bother me much, but I sometimes wondered what they were up to. Maybe they were better off without us.

One day, my mom's brother—my uncle—came to visit. He was a really nice guy, much younger than Mom. He told her she didn’t have to work so hard, that he could cover my college and school fees if needed. But my mom was proud to say I got into a prestigious school on my own. He was impressed and started talking about his family. He married a French woman and had two kids, a boy and a girl. He'd started a successful business and was doing really well.

Before he left, he brought up their mom—my grandmother—and said she really missed my mom. He asked her to visit, but Mom said she needed some time to get mentally ready. I think she was still dealing with everything that had happened. It made sense, but it was nice to see her finally reconnecting with her brother, and I hoped she’d find the strength to reconnect with the rest of the family soon.

Ava. I really like her. I mean, I wish I had the guts to ask her out, but I don't want to mess up what we have. She's been there for me through a lot, like when my parents divorced and when my brothers just ignored me. She's the kind of friend who doesn't need to say much, but you know she's listening. She was with me all through elementary and up until 9th grade, but now we go to different schools. I got into this high school, and she didn't, which sucks because I'd love to see her more often.

In school, I'm not really the popular guy. I'm a pretty good student, always getting decent grades, but I don't have a ton of friends. There's John, though. We became friends in the first year of high school, and even though he's a social butterfly, he's also really smart and works hard. He's usually second in class, right behind me, but he's not competitive about it. John knows everyone, and thanks to him, I got to meet a few more people. It's kind of cool hanging out with him because he's got this way of making you feel like you belong.

John and I aren't best friends or anything—we've only known each other for a year—but he's the closest friend I have at school. We talk about all sorts of stuff, even personal things, which I don't usually share with just anyone. He's got this laid-back vibe that makes it easy to open up.

But when it comes to real friends, it's Ava and John. Ava's got this special place because she was there during some of the toughest times, and she's still the first person I think of when I need someone to talk to. John's the one who makes school a bit more fun, with his endless jokes and his knack for getting to know everyone.

So yeah, if someone asks who my friends are, it's those two. I wish I could hang out with Ava more often, but even if I don't, it's cool knowing that she's there. And having John around makes school a lot less lonely.

Another year passed, and I was now in my second year of high school. I thought it would be just another ordinary year, but it wasn't. John, who I thought was my best friend, started to drift away, hanging out with me less and less. At first, I didn't really notice. But as I looked back, I realized he was hardly talking to me anymore.

One day, in the middle of chemistry class, I was struggling to understand a particularly tricky concept. I was alone in the classroom during lunch break, trying to make sense of the material, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see one of my classmates with a strange expression on her face. She asked if I had gone to lunch, and I said I hadn't.

That's when I found out that Anna, one of the girls in our class, had lost something very important to her—her late grandmother's pendant. She was crying, and everyone seemed tense. Then, out of nowhere, our class teacher looked at me and said, "If you have it, just give it back. We won't tell anyone." I was shocked. They thought I took it. I felt a wave of anger and confusion. How could they suspect me?

I told them I didn't take anything and even offered to let them search my bag. They went through it, but the pendant wasn't there. I thought it was over, but then they insisted on checking my locker. Again, nothing. I thought it would end there, but someone mentioned checking my gym locker. By this point, I was furious, but I had nothing to hide, so I told them to go ahead.

When they opened the gym locker, there it was—the pendant. I felt my heart drop. It didn't make any sense. I knew I hadn't taken it, but there it was, right where everyone could see. I felt betrayed, cornered, and I had no idea how to prove my innocence. It was like the whole world had turned against me, and I was completely along.

I spent hours in the principal's office, standing there like a criminal. My class teacher was ranting about how I should be suspended, how my scholarship should be revoked. She kept glaring at me like I was some kind of delinquent, while Anna stood in the corner, eyes red from crying. The principal looked tired and surprised, but not in a good way. She was staring at me like I was a stranger, like I'd betrayed everyone.

The principal told Anna and me to step outside. While we waited, Anna started talking, her voice laced with sarcasm. She brought up my family's issues, reminding me how my dad left my mom for his new wife, leaving us with nothing. It stung, and it hurt even more knowing that she'd heard all this from somewhere else. She kept going, saying things that were way out of line, and I just stood there, my fists clenched, feeling the anger and heartbreak mix into a boiling rage.

Then we got called back inside, and I knew I had to explain myself. I asked Anna to come in with me. I started by asking her when she lost the pendant. She said it was during lunch, but she didn't really know when she first noticed it was gone. I asked if she had worn it when she left the classroom, but she wasn't sure. I told the principal that there were security cameras outside the gym and in the hallway near our classroom. If they checked them, they'd see I never went near the gym that day.

My class teacher wasn't buying it. She said I could've stolen the pendant the day before and hid it in the gym locker. It was absurd, but she seemed convinced. The principal gave the order to check the cameras, and it wasn't long before the truth came out. There was only one person from our class who went to the gym that day—John. My so-called best friend.

The shock hit me like a ton of bricks. John had set me up. The principal asked Anna and me to step outside again, and as we stood there, Anna started crying. She apologized, saying she didn't mean what she said earlier. I replied coldly, "But you already did." She looked terrified. It was like the roles had flipped, and now she was the one who felt the guilt and fear.

John showed up a few minutes later, looking pale. The principal called him in, and we could hear the murmur of voices, but not what they were saying. When John came out, he was crying, saying he was sorry, that he was jealous because I was always first in class, and he could never beat me. He said he never meant to hurt me, but that didn't make it okay. The principal was ready to let him drop out of school to keep things quiet, but I stopped her. I told her that if they didn't clear my name with everyone, I'd still be seen as the thief.

I asked for an apology from my class teacher in front of everyone. She looked like she was about to burst with anger, but she didn't have a choice. The principal seemed shocked that I was speaking up like this. I was always the sweet kid, but that day, something had changed in me. I was done being quiet and polite.

Everything was cleared up, but I didn't feel like going back to class. I called my mom to pick me up and went home. The next day, I returned to school, but both Anna and John were absent. The air felt thick with the unresolved tension, and I knew that despite what had happened in the principal's office, the story wasn't over. Not yet.

From the moment I walked into school this morning, I knew something was wrong. Everyone was avoiding me, like I had some kind of disease they didn't want to catch. It was like I was invisible, but not in a good way. Our last period before lunch was PET, and we were playing football. I'm not great at sports, but I can hold my own. But today was different. As soon as I got on the field, some of the guys said if I was on their team, they wouldn't play. I ended up sitting on the bench for what felt like forever.

Finally, one of the players got hurt, and they needed a sub. I thought maybe I’d get a fair shot, but I was wrong. The minute I stepped onto the field, it was like they had a target on my back. They started hitting me with the ball, pulling me down, and shoving me around. I tried to keep it together, but I could feel my emotions bubbling up, and I knew I was about to crack. It was humiliating. By the time the game was over, I felt like I’d been in a fight.

Then came lunch break, and everyone took off. I didn’t feel like joining them. Instead, I found a quiet spot near the gym, where it's always empty. I sat down on the floor, feeling the sting of my injured knee, and when I looked down, I saw it was bleeding. That's when I couldn't hold it in anymore—I started to cry. I wasn't even sure why; it was like everything that happened yesterday, and then today, just hit me all at once.

As I sat there, someone walked up to me and asked if I was okay. I didn’t want to look at him. He had a soft voice, like he actually cared. I kept my head down, and he left, but a few minutes later, he came back with a first aid box. He knelt down and bandaged my knee. I finally glanced at him, but he was avoiding my eyes. He sat down beside me after few of minutes of silent .He was just about to leave when I reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn't know why; I just didn't want to be alone. He looked at me, and I could see in his eyes that he wasn't like the others. He was just trying to help.

In that moment, I felt something shift. I knew things were still messed up, but having this guy, whoever he was, sit with me made it just a little easier to handle. Sometimes, that's all you need—someone who doesn't see you as a problem to solve, but as a person who needs a friend.

I sat there on the cold gym floor, my injured knee throbbing and my eyes red from crying. It wasn't just the pain from the injury—it was everything. The rumours, the isolation, feeling like I was on the outside of everything. And then this guy showed up, and I was afraid he'd ask what happened, why I was sitting there crying. But he didn't. He just sat beside me and started talking, not about what was wrong, but about anime.

At first, I didn't know what to make of him. He had this calming presence, like he wasn't there to judge or fix anything. He was just there, with me, keeping me company. I felt my guard drop a little, and as he talked, my mind drifted into the story he was telling. It was like he had this gift of making me forget, if only for a little while, all the things that were weighing me down.

I was so lost in his voice that I barely realized when I stopped listening to the words and just focused on the sound. He had this gentle tone that made everything seem a little brighter, a little warmer. When he glanced at me, I nodded, pretending I'd been following along. But then I started listening for real, and the story was actually pretty good. He was telling me about this epic battle, the characters, the twists and turns—it was like I could see it all happening.

Finally, when he finished his story, I looked at him and asked, "Do you know who I am?" He just smiled and shook his head. "No," he said, "what's your name?"

"Nikki," I replied."

I'm Jowar," he said.

That was it. Just names exchanged, but it felt like a connection, like I wasn't so alone anymore. He didn't ask why I was crying or what was wrong. He was just there, talking about anime and sharing a piece of his world with me. It felt nice, like maybe this was the beginning of something different, something better. I didn't know where it would go, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I wasn't invisible. I felt seen. And it was because of Jowar.

After everything that happened, I couldn't face going back to class. I just went home and hid in my room. I must have cried for hours. When my mom got home, she came in to check on me and found me curled up on my bed, my eyes red and swollen. She asked what was wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything at first. She didn't let up, though, and finally, I told her everything that happened at school. It hit her hard, too. She looked like someone had punched her in the gut.

The next day, I stayed home. I just couldn't bring myself to go back, to face all those people who treated me like dirt. It was the second day I skipped school, and my phone kept buzzing with messages I didn't wa