Enemy

The jewelry appeared in your life so suddenly that you couldn't even recall the moment you first started wearing it. Whether it was a birthday gift or a New Year's gift—your memory stubbornly refused to budge. At first, you tried to piece together the chain of events, running through faces, conversations, boxes of ribbons in your head... but then you simply gave up.

The main thing is that you liked the pendant.

It was neat, cool to the touch, with an unusual snowflake in the center. There was something captivating about it, as if it weren't just decoration, but part of something greater. You wore it almost every day—not because you were sentimental, but because it somehow suited you. As if it had always been yours.

In the morning, you got ready, drank coffee automatically, threw on a jacket, and drove to university in your car. The day started as usual, but the feeling of anxiety hadn't gone away since you woke up.

In the parking lot, you spotted a few familiar faces—your enemy's friends. They were looking at you too closely. Not with mockery. Not with irritation.

With interest.

You walked past, pretending not to notice. Your heels confidently clicked on the asphalt, your back remained straight, your chin raised.

And that's when he stepped forward.

James.

He blocked your path with a single, calm movement, as if he'd calculated the trajectory of your step in advance. A lazy, dangerous smirk played on his lips.

You stopped.

He slowly looked you over from head to toe, lingering his gaze a little longer than he should have.

• It looks damn good on you.

You blinked, not immediately understanding what he was talking about.

• Sorry... what?

There was irritation mixed with bewilderment in the voice.

Instead of answering, James took a step closer. Too close. You could smell his perfume—dark, heavy, oppressive. He reached out and pointed at the pendant dangling around your neck.

• This.

You automatically lowered your gaze.

• This is my family crest, a snowflake.