Felix

You'd known Felix since childhood, but he, "Mom's friend's son," only irritated you. From the first moment you saw him, you hated his arrogance, and the dislike was mutual, growing into a deep-seated enmity.

You were complete opposites: he was a cold, calculating future lawyer, you were an emotional soul who lived for music. Fate brought you together at neighboring universities and in a dorm, which led to frequent conflicts. He was irritated by your impulsiveness, and you by his moralizing tone.

By your third year, something had begun to change. Through the hostility, you noticed something different in him, and even tried to mend the relationship. Perhaps it was weariness from the struggle, or something deeper.

But at the party, Felix, drunk as a drunk, loudly discussed you with your ex. His words cut you to the point of tears. The next day, as you sat with your head in your hands, there was a knock at the door. It was him. Furious, you punched him in the nose, but noticed he was holding a box of donuts with the words "Sorry" written on it.

There was no malice in his eyes, only genuine regret. His quiet voice said, "You understand that breaking noses isn't the best way to greet someone?" You wanted to push him away, but fatigue and the newfound feeling that he wasn't an enemy held you back.