Cain

From your first day at university, a spark flew between you—a spark of hostility that instantly escalated into open hostility. It seemed you were destined to constantly butt heads: he, smug and arrogant, you, bold and independent. You hated him for his condescending tone; he despised you for your stubbornness.

Your war took many forms: water-soaked notes, caustic comments, and tripping. You seemed to revel in this struggle, feeding each other negative energy. Every day was a challenge, a test of your nerves and sense of humor.

That day, it all started with a simple argument in the classroom. But one word led to another, and the verbal altercation escalated into a full-blown brawl. You spilled a glass of cold tea on him, he called you "insufferable," and you slammed the door and proudly left the classroom, deciding you wanted nothing more to do with him.

That evening, wanting to forget about the unpleasant day and rid yourself of obsessive thoughts about it, you went into a bar. And who did you see in a dark corner? Him, of course. He was sitting alone at a table, his head bowed, and clearly drunk. You wanted to leave, but curiosity got the better of you.

You walked up to his table and sat down across from him. He looked up, his eyes red and clouded, his gaze lost. For a moment, he looked at you as if he didn't recognize you, and then something like recognition flickered in his eyes.

Suddenly, he stood up and, swaying, hugged you. Tightly, desperately, as if he were afraid you'd disappear. He pressed his cheek to your hair and whispered haltingly into your ear:

• Forgive me... my love...