“You're too fast!” Damian giggled, his cheeks flushed as he tried to catch his breath.

“Well, you can't keep up!” Nyla winked, laughing as they both collapsed onto the fresh green grass.

Something about the evening felt so beautiful. The air was filled with their heavy breaths, framed by the glowing orange of the sunset. Damian was glistening with sweat, using the collar of his shirt to wipe his brow.

“Can I get a napkin? I know you have everything in your bag,” he giggled, nudging her side.

“Well, clearly not everything!” Nyla pulled out a Hello Kitty napkin, which Damian snatched immediately to clean his face.

“Let me guess, chica,” he teased, eyes sparkling. “You've also got an endless supply of candy in there.”

She bit her lip, suppressing a smile before pulling them out one by one. “Chocolate, gummy bears, hard candies—hey!”

Damian snatched the bag of gummy bears straight from her hands, tearing it open and tossing a handful into his mouth. “You're too slow,” he mocked, gobbling them down with a triumphant grin.

Nyla didn't complain.

He was the only person in the world allowed to take her candy like this. Anyone else would have triggered a massive tantrum. Pretty cliché for a seven-year-old, right? But Damian was her entire universe.

“Well, you're lucky that you're my best friend, or else there would've been a problem,” she huffed playfully.

Damian stood up, brushing the stray grass off his shorts before reaching down to help her up, too. “It's getting dark, chica. Let's go home.”

Nyla nodded, but before he could step away, she caught his hand. She wrapped her small pinky finger securely around his, her heart beating with a sudden, serious weight. “Promise me that you will never leave me.”

Damian did not think twice. He tightened his pinky around hers, giving her a reassuring smile. “Promise.”

“Pink promise?”

“Pink promise!”

Years had passed now, and neither of them were the same seven-year-old kids they were back then. Nyla’s world had been uprooted when her father’s job forced them to move to the UK, leaving France—and Damian—behind.

But she always knew she’d return.

She had spent years telling herself that when they finally met again, she would keep her identity a secret just to see if he would recognize her on his own. Yet, actually standing on French soil made the thought of immediately telling him the truth way too tempting. She was never the best at keeping secrets anyway.

Now that she was sixteen and supposedly more mature, she walked the streets of Paris with her parents, silently praying that Damian would just spawn out of nowhere. She was a firm believer in destiny. If they were destined to meet, nobody could stop it.

“What happened, sweetie?” Vincent asked, noticing his daughter's distant expression.

“Nothing, Dad. I'm just looking around to see how much France has changed... and maybe if I find someone familiar.”

Vincent let out a soft chuckle. He knew exactly how much his daughter wanted to find Damian. She hadn’t stopped talking about him since the day they left France. Nine long years had passed, but for Nyla, the memories were as fresh as yesterday.

“Should we eat something first?” Vincent asked, but Nyla was too busy scanning the faces in the crowd to notice. “Nyla! Your dad is asking you something,” Isabelle added, gently elbowing her arm.

“Oh, yes, Mom?” She snapped back to reality, blinking.

Vincent repeated himself, emphasizing his words with a dramatic sigh so Nyla could judge by his voice that he was absolutely starving.

“Okay...” she agreed softly.

Nyla sat with her family inside a cozy bistro, quietly eating coq au vin while her parents chatted across the table. The restaurant buzzed softly with conversation, and the rich aroma of herbs and wine filled the air. She listened to her father's stories and smiled occasionally, enjoying the rare comfort of a peaceful evening spent together before their next inevitable move.

But as soon as the meal was over, Nyla insisted they visit the exact street corner where she and Damian used to get ice cream. She had a gut feeling he would be there. Even after nine years, it had been his absolute favorite spot.

They caught a cab, the city blurring past the windows. Nyla kept her eyes glued to the road, her anxiety rising. When the tires finally screeched to a halt at the location, her heart dropped. The ice cream cart wasn't there.

“It's not here!” she panicked, a sudden wave of heat washing over her. But just as desperation threatened to take over, she heard it.

A familiar voice. The exact voice she had craved for years.

Damian walked down the street with an easy, confident stride, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his coat. The cool breeze ruffled his dark brown hair as he moved through the crowd, his sharp blue eyes fixed ahead as he laughed at a joke his friend was making.

Nyla didn't care about what they were saying; she only cared about him.

Without a second thought, she waved her hands frantically and sprinted across the pavement toward him. “Oh my god!”

Damian and his friend stopped dead in their tracks, exchanging a strange, uncomfortable look as they stared at the girl running toward them.

“Damian, do you remember me? We used to hang out when—”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Damian stepped back, his expression cold and annoyed. He pushed past her shoulder. “Non, je te connais pas,” he muttered. His French accent was way heavier than it had been when they were kids, and poor Nyla’s brain scrambled, unable to work out what the words meant.

“Damian!” she cried out.

“How do you know my name?” He finally spoke, switching to English this time, his tone sharp.

“Elle est bizarre, cette fille,” his friend whispered loudly into his ear, making Damian let out a low chuckle.

Nyla stood frozen, completely confused and humiliated. “Mr. Damian, I know you can speak English. It's me... I'm Nyla.”

“Nyla who?”

The words felt like a physical blow to her chest. It broke her heart into a million pieces. But how could she have expected him to remember her after nine years?

“Madam, leave us alone!” the friend, Adrien, interjected in a heavy French accent, glaring at her.

They both walked right past her, mocking her in rapid French as they disappeared into the bustling crowd. Nyla stood entirely still, watching their retreating backs until they vanished.

Vincent and Isabelle rushed over, rubbing Nyla's trembling shoulders. “Relax, princess,” her father soothed gently. “He must have just forgotten.”

But Nyla couldn't relax. A full, agonizing meltdown tore through her right there on the Parisian sidewalk.

“How could he have forgotten! He promised me!” she screamed, the overwhelming weight of her attachment issues crashing down on her all at once. She started running in the direction he went, her voice cracking as she shrieked into the crowded street. “Damian!”

She growled his name in absolute agony, but it was too late.

He was gone.

Isabelle and Vincent gripped Nyla tight, trying to hold her back. “Don't make a scene, you're not a kid!” Isabelle hissed, embarrassed as Nyla sank directly onto the floor, crying and screaming hysterically.

Crowds of confused tourists and locals gathered around them, staring at the spectacle. Vincent threw his hands over his head in sheer stress. “Goodness gracious!”

To anyone else, it looked like madness. But to Nyla, every single tear was justified. She had waited years for this moment. She had written about him in her diary every single day, keeping his memory alive like a sacred religion, and he had forgotten her in the blink of an eye.

“I WANT HIM!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears blurring her vision.

“Calm down, Nyla, so many people are watching!”

It took her a few agonized seconds to process her surroundings before she finally forced herself up and stumbled blindly back toward the waiting cab.

“I'm sorry, my daughter was not feeling well!” Vincent called out to the lingering crowd. The bystanders just looked at each other, trying to work out what the English-speaking man was saying. Feeling helpless, Vincent pulled out his phone, hastily typed an apology into a translator app, and showed it to them. They nodded subtly, signaling it was fine, before dispersing.

Vincent immediately ran back to the cab, where Nyla was sobbing uncontrollably into Isabelle’s lap. He wanted to shout at her for creating such a massive fuss in public, but looking at her shattered expression, he just couldn't.

He had heard his daughter ask daily about when they would finally return to France, and whether Damian would remember her. He knew how deep this wound went.

Meanwhile, blocks away, Damian had absolutely no idea who Nyla was. To him, the childhood they shared was a lifetime ago—a minor detail he had moved on from long ago.

He was sitting in a café, casually playing chess with his friends when another one of his classmates slung a backpack over a chair and sat down.

“Hey, Damian, what's up?”

“Sup, dude,” Damian replied, keeping his eyes on the chessboard.

Jack sat down beside him, leaning in with a smirk. “I literally just saw a girl down the street screaming and throwing a massive tantrum. And get this—she was screaming your name.”

“What?” Damian finally turned around, drawing his attention away from the game.

Adrien burst out laughing, clapping Damian on the back. “I think you have a stalker, Damian.”

They all began to tease him, throwing jokes back and forth across the table. Damian rolled his eyes, laughing it off with his usual careless charm. But as he looked back down at the chess pieces, a strange, phantom sensation brushed against his mind. Deep down, a faint echo of something familiar stirred—but he couldn't put his finger on it.

“I wanna go to the school that he goes to. Period,” Nyla declared, her voice leaving no room for argument while Isabelle was serving breakfast.

Her mother giggled, setting down a plate. “What if he's homeschooled?”

Nyla rolled her eyes, quickly gulping down her orange juice in order to avoid answering. Deep down, she didn't know what she would do if he actually was homeschooled. The thought alone made her chest feel tight.

Abruptly, her dad walked out of his room, a bright smile on his face. “I've got good news, Nyla!”

She gave him a sharp, questioning look. “What is it, Dad?”

“I think I found out where he goes. It's a private international school down the street, and surprisingly, it's pretty close to us.”

Nyla's eyes instantly sparkled.

“But there is one problem,” her dad hesitated, his smile fading a bit.

“What?”

“It's too expensive. I don't think we can afford it—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Nyla interjected fiercely, “I can get a job! I promise I'll do anything to get my admission into that school.”

Isabelle and Vincent looked at each other, silent for a moment before nodding their heads in sync. For them, their daughter's happiness was the most important thing in the world.

The plan was executed.

When Monday morning arrived, the air felt charged with anticipation. Nyla quickly got into her new uniform, styled her hair into a neat half-updo, grabbed her bag, and practically flew to the car.

“Dad, I'm so excited!” she beamed as they drove.

“I know, princess. I hope you enjoy your new school.”

When they pulled up, Nyla’s eyes scanned the grounds. The campus was massive—way bigger than anything she was used to. There was fresh green grass stretching across the courtyard, kids running around, and even a set of swings in the distance.

Heart hammering, she began walking through the crowd, completely distracted, until she abruptly bumped right into someone.

“Hey,” she said, stumbling back as her gaze followed upward. It was a girl. “I'm so sorry!” Nyla apologized quickly.

“It's okay… you just caught me off guard,” the girl smiled, brushing off her skirt. “I'm Lily, nice to meet you!”

Nyla returned the greeting, a wave of relief washing over her.

They walked down the crowded hallway together, chatting easily. “So, you're from Italy?” Nyla asked.

“Yep, I'm a transfer student,” Lily replied with a grin.

It turned out that Lily and Nyla shared their very first class, making it obvious they would be hanging out often. The lessons went amazingly well, and by the end of the period, they had already exchanged numbers.

Later in the day, Nyla found herself with a free period while Lily went off to her next class. She was standing beside her locker, adjusting her books. But the moment she swung the metal door shut, a familiar voice cut through the hallway.

“Hey, you've been standing here for a while. Is everything fine?”

Nyla froze. “Damian,” she whispered, backing away a little. She could not stop her heart from palpitating wildly against her ribs.

He leaned against the lockers, studying her. “How do you know my name? I think I saw you—”

Nyla immediately changed the subject, her voice high and breathless. “Oh… I'm just really good at guessing, you know?”

He raised a single, skeptical brow. “I don't think that it's a coincidence.”

Nyla's hands were shaking violently. To act like she didn't care, she began nervously fumbling with her locker key, but Damian’s sharp eyes immediately noticed the tremor in her fingers before moving up to lock onto her gaze.

They made intense eye contact, causing Nyla to immediately look down at her shoes, her cheeks burning.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone completely nonchalant.

“Nyla,” she replied flatly, trying to steady her voice.

“Cool. Then I'll see you around!”

He turned on his heel and was about to walk away, but a desperate surge of panic hit Nyla. Without thinking, she reached out, held his arm, and whispered, “Wait!”

Damian stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at her hand in absolute shock. Nobody in this school had the audacity to touch him besides his closest friends. He turned his torso toward her, his expression hardening. Realizing what she’d done, she immediately let go of his arm.

“You… you forgot to close your locker, I think!” she stammered, looking for any excuse.

“I don't have a locker,” his voice came out biting and cold as he turned and kept walking.

The moment he was out of earshot, Nyla banged her hand against the metal door. Shoot! You messed up, Nyla, and now he's gonna think you're an obsessed weirdo.

Great! she thought to herself in misery.

But it got worse. As her eyes followed him down the hall, she watched Damian pull off his jacket and throw it directly into a nearby trash bin—simply because she had touched it.

The harsh act cut her deep, leaving a dull ache in her chest. How could he do something so cruel?

“Hey, girl!” Lily suddenly tapped her shoulder, making her flinch.

“Gosh, you scared me!” Nyla let out a forced, awkward laugh, trying to mask the tears pricking her eyes.

Lily chuckled, completely oblivious, and led Nyla toward the cafeteria. “My class ended early today. I'm starving, let's get something to eat.”

Nyla tried to decline ordering anything because she didn't have any money on her, but Lily insisted on paying.

“What's this?” Nyla asked as Lily handed her a delicate pastry.

“An éclair. It’s an elongated choux pastry filled with rich chocolate custard and topped with a glossy chocolate glaze,” Lily explained proudly.

Nyla managed a small smile. “Goodness, your description sounds amazing.”

They sat down at a table, eating and gossiping, but Nyla’s attention was completely compromised. She turned around, her eyes instantly tracking Damian and Adrien across the cafeteria as they bought drinks.

“Hello? Earth to Nyla?” Lily shook her shoulder multiple times until Nyla finally snapped back to her senses.

The rest of the school day passed by way quicker than Nyla had anticipated. Soon, she was standing outside by the gates, waiting for her dad to pick her up. She watched Damian pass by with Adrien, the two of them giggling about something.

An hour ticked by, and her dad still hadn't arrived. Nyla tried calling his phone, but the line wasn't working. She swallowed hard, feeling small and stranded.

“I can drop you,” a smooth voice offered.

Nyla looked up, surprised to find Damian standing there, car keys dangling from his fingers. The memory of the hallway flashed in her mind, fueling a sudden spark of anger.

“Why are you being kind? You literally threw away your jacket because I touched it!” Nyla replied bluntly.

Damian let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Haha.”

“You'd probably throw away your car too if I sat in it, right?” she challenged.

“Maybe,” he replied coolly, unlocking the door. “Get in.”

Nyla stood her ground, her voice dropping to a painful whisper. “You changed a lot, Damian. You broke the pinky promise you made to your chika.”

Damian froze. He raised his eyebrow, his entire demeanor shifting as he stepped closer to her. “Chika?”

The word struck a chord deep inside him, pulling forward a rush of buried childhood memories. Something violently clicked in his brain. But before he could utter another word, a loud car horn beeped across the street.

It was Nyla's dad.

Nyla backed away slowly, maintaining intense eye contact with him before turning to run toward the vehicle.

“Nyla… chika,” Damian muttered to himself, the realization hitting him like a physical wave. She was my friend! How could I forget her? Panic flared in his chest, and he actually started running after her dad's car. But he was too slow. He watched as the car merged into traffic, slowly disappearing from view.

Inside the car, Vincent glanced at his daughter through the rearview mirror. “How was your day, honey?”

“It was fun. I made a new friend whose name is Lily.”

Vincent let out a warm chuckle, genuinely happy that his daughter was making connections and taking steps toward overcoming the deep attachment issues she had struggled with over the years.

Damian, on the other hand, was driving home with a mind entirely consumed by chaos. Had he really just met his childhood best friend? Remorse pooled in his stomach. He felt utterly terrible about the jacket incident.

“Hey, William,” Damian addressed his driver.

The driver simply hummed in response.

“Can you stop and get me roses from a shop?”

William nodded without asking any questions. He was already having a stressful day and didn't want to overcomplicate things.

Roses were Nyla's favorite flowers—at least, as far as Damian could remember from their childhood. He figured he could apologize and give them to her tomorrow.

Little did he know, she would cherish that single gesture forever.

The moment Nyla got home, she ran straight to her bedroom. She pulled out her scrapbook diary, flipping to a fresh page, her heart soaring as she wrote:

Dear Diary,

I met MY Damian today!

She heavily underlined the word my, meaning it with every single ounce of her heart.

Damian had spent the last few days in a quiet panic, completely unsure of how to reach out to her. He was trapped in the frustrating dilemma that he had carelessly forgotten his own childhood best friend. Nyla, on the other hand, remained trapped in her own dilemma, fully convinced he had erased her from his life forever.

It was a crisp Saturday morning when Nyla headed out to a local Parisian coffee shop with her family for breakfast. Little did she know, the café was actually owned by Damian's father.

They sat at a small table, scanning the laminated menus.

“Everything is in French,” Isabelle announced, looking completely confused.

Vincent immediately pulled out his phone, searching for a translator app, while Nyla's eyes began to roam around the room. Suddenly, her gaze stopped on a young boy sitting across the cafe, quietly reading a newspaper.

Her gaze was intense. A little too intense. She stared until he finally felt the weight of her eyes, and they made direct eye contact.

Damian paused for a minute, lowering the paper before slowly getting up. Nyla’s entire body stiffened.

“Hey, guys! Nyla?” he called out, walking over.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

Vincent and Isabelle immediately looked up, startled.

“I'm Nyla's classmate. Nice to meet you guys,” Damian said, offering her parents a warm, polite smile. Nyla’s burning gaze never left his face. “It's actually my father's restaurant. Do you guys need any help with ordering?”

Vincent looked at his wife in relief. “Yeah, please. The menu is entirely in French, and we are not very good at it.”

Damian chuckled softly, standing by their table to explain what each dish contained before personally placing their order with the waiter.

“Why don't you sit with us?” Nyla asked bluntly, her voice cutting through the polite chatter.

He looked at her, hesitating for a fraction of a second before answering. “Well, I suppose I could.”

He pulled out an empty chair and sat down. While Isabelle became occupied scrolling on her phone and Vincent studied the translated menu, Nyla took her opportunity. She gripped the metal legs of Damian's chair and violently pulled it closer to her own, causing his breath to hitch.

Caught completely off guard, Damian tried to subtly nudge his chair back aside, but Nyla held it firmly. He couldn't move an inch, even as he subtly struggled against her grip. He had no idea where she was getting this much strength from.

When the food arrived, they began eating their breakfast in a much more relaxed atmosphere.

“The coffee is really nice,” Isabelle commented, taking a sip.

“Yeah, it's very special,” Damian answered, sipping his own drink while keeping a wary eye on Nyla.

“I like the croissant,” Nyla added loudly, deliberately trying to draw his attention back to her.

“Yeah, it's good, right?” he answered with a nod.

Once they finished, Vincent reached into his pocket to pay, but Damian immediately stopped him. “Don't worry, sir. It's on the house.”

“Oh, no, no, no! I insist,” Vincent replied, trying to hand him the euros, but it was all to no avail.

“What a young gentleman you are,” Isabelle commented, thoroughly impressed.

“I appreciate that, ma'am,” Damian replied smoothly.

“Mom, Dad, can me and Damian hang out now?” Nyla asked suddenly.

Damian almost choked on air. He was just trying to be a kind host, but somehow, she instantly wanted more of his time.

“Sure,” her parents replied in sync.

Before Damian could protest, Nyla gripped his hand tight, guiding him forcefully out the front door of the cafe.

“I want to spend time with you,” she said the moment they hit the pavement.

“Why are you acting so clingy?” Damian asked, his tone turning sharp as he yanked his arm. “Who said you could touch me?”

He tried to jerk her hand off, but her grip only tightened.

With a sudden surge of possessiveness, she pinned him right against the brick wall of the alleyway.

“You promised your chika that you would always be hers, and now you're breaking her heart,” she whispered, her eyes boring into his.

He raised his eyebrow, a look of disbelief crossing his features. “I meant as frien—”

“Shh!” she interrupted, placing a finger near his lips.

Eventually, she let go, and they began walking down the bustling street side by side.

“How do you still remember all of that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I like to keep my word,” she replied flatly.

As they walked, Nyla was completely oblivious to her surroundings. The crowded streets of Paris faded into background noise; she couldn't focus on anything but him.

He made her feel alive, happy, and consumed by a terrifying rush of warmth. Something about his mere presence was intoxicating.

“Hey!” Damian suddenly exclaimed.

In a flash, his arm shot out and caught her securely around the waist just as her foot caught on the cobblestones. “Watch your steps, girl,” he added, his voice low.

Nyla's eyes widened. “You caught me?” she breathed, her face flushing a deep pink.

He rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nah. You actually wanna fall?”

To tease her, he loosened his grip for a split second. Nyla's heart raced as she thought she was going to crash into the ground, but Damian caught her waist perfectly on time, pulling her right back up against him.

“Gosh! You scared me!” she cried out, lightly slapping his chest.

Damian couldn't stop laughing, the sound rich and genuine.

“Why are you laughing at me!” she whined, pouting.

“You're so stupid!” he replied, pushing her away lightly with a grin.

“Huh? Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

“Do you like candy floss?” he asked, pointing toward a colorful cart down the street.

“Not much,” she answered honestly.

“Well, you're missing out! I love it. I'll get some,” he replied, increasing his pace to head toward the vendor.

Nyla watched him go, a soft smile spreading across her face as she saw him getting genuinely excited over a blue Spiderman candy floss like a little kid.

“It's so good,” he said, walking back and taking a massive bite.

“You are already sweet. You wanna get diabetes with more sugar?” she teased.

He chuckled, holding the fluffy stick out to her. “Try it once.”

“Well, if you insist.” Nyla scanned the candy floss carefully. Instead of pulling off a random piece, she leaned in and bit directly from the exact spot where his lips had just touched. To anyone else, sharing traces of saliva might have been gross. But for Nyla, nothing about Damian could ever be gross.

“Mmm, it's nice,” she smiled, licking her lips.

“I told you!” he beamed.

Hours passed as they chatted, laughed, and walked around the city before he finally dropped her off at her house.

“It was nice hanging out with you!” Damian said as they stood by her porch. He pulled out his hand. “Friends?”

She shook his hand, her grip lingering. “Forever.”

Nyla watched him disappear down the street before stepping inside, locking the door, and sprinting upstairs. “Ahhh, I'm so happy!” she squealed, plopping face-first onto her bed. She immediately grabbed her phone and dialed her friend Lily.

“GIRL, YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE IT!” Nyla screamed into the receiver.

“Oh my god, tell me!” Lily answered instantly.

Meanwhile, Damian walked through the front door of his house, tossing his keys onto the counter. “Hey, Mom, I'm home,” he greeted.

His mother flashed a warm smile from the kitchen. “Did you get the flowers?”

Damian froze, a pit forming in his stomach. “Oh… gosh, I totally forgot,” he muttered.

“Then how are you going to ask out Chloé?”

“Oh, damn! I was hanging out with a friend, I completely forgot the time.” Damian started to panic. He had held a massive crush on Chloé for two whole years, and with prom coming up this Monday, he absolutely could not let this opportunity slide.

Back in her bedroom, Nyla was entirely lost in her own fantasy.

“I think he's going to ask you out for prom,” Lily said over the speakerphone, making Nyla blush furiously.

“You think so?”

“Yes! Have you picked out your dress yet?”

“Not yet,” Nyla replied, walking over to her closet. She threw open the doors and began rummaging through her gowns. “I have a pink one and a lilac one.”

“Lilac will suit you so much!” Lily hyped her up. Nyla smiled, agreeing with her friend as she laid the lilac dress neatly across her bed. She was absolutely certain Damian was going to ask her, so she began frantically searching her drawers for matching accessories.

Downstairs, Vincent noticed his daughter's radiant expression as she crossed the hallway. “You're quite happy today, Nyla.”

“Yes, Dad,” she replied softly, beaming.

Vincent smiled back gently. “I hope you always stay happy, princess, and that no one ever ruins your smile.”

At that exact moment, miles away, a lightbulb went off in Damian's head.

“Wait… I bought those roses for Nyla the other day!” he whispered to himself, a relieved grin breaking across his face. “I can just give those to Chloé since I forgot to buy new ones.

And just like that, the roses meant for Nyla became Chloé’s destiny—and the first spark to ignite a total disaster.