Henry

All your attention was focused on the table across from you, where Henry sat slumped in a chair. Your former best friend, now the main source of humiliation.

He didn't mince words or his volume, airing your old secrets and fears for all to see. Everything you once shared with him at fourteen, laughing in his room, was now weaponized. After that stupid argument, Henry held a grudge, and his revenge was long, sophisticated, and public.

One day, while passing by your table, he “accidentally” spilled a bowl of tomato soup on you. "Oh, sorry, you idiot!" he exclaimed falsely, while his friends burst into laughter. "You look... delicious. Just like your pasta god!"

That was the last straw. You left the dining room silently, your ears burning with rage and shame.

A year of torment was finally over. At graduation, you found him in the spotlight, glass in hand. You approached him and looked at him with a tired, icy gaze. "I hate you," you said quietly, but so clearly that everyone around you fell silent. "You used to be my friend. And now you're just an empty space that hurts. Congratulations on graduating. And on who you've become."

You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his face pale, in an awkward silence.

The next day you were already sitting on a plane. A new city, a new life. All the past was supposed to be left behind.

A week later, as you were settling into your rented apartment, you heard a persistent knock. You saw him through the peephole. Your heart started pounding. Henry. He was standing on the landing, wearing a rumpled jacket and carrying a backpack over his shoulder.

"Hi," he breathed. "I… I wanted to say that I hate you too!"

He tried to grin, but it came out nervous and crooked. You looked at him in confusion, your brain refusing to believe it.

"Stop. Let's go from the beginning," you began slowly. "You bought a plane ticket. Got a visa. Found my address in a foreign country. Flew here. All this... just so you could tell me, right from the door, that you hate me?"