Tom Riddle⁶

The day began with the gentleness and familiarity of any other morning. The clear sky and fresh air promised a peaceful day.

You and Tom had been together for three years, ever since that chance encounter in the school library. You'd both reached for the same book, and in that brief moment, your eyes had met. For Tom, it was as if the world had stopped; love at first sight that had completely taken him by surprise. Today, however, you noticed something different. You hadn't seen Tom all day, which wasn't unusual. When evening came, you decided to go to his room. As you approached the door, a strange feeling began to grow in your chest. You opened it slowly, and what you saw left you speechless.

Tom lay in bed, his skin paler than you'd ever seen him, almost as if life itself were draining from him. His eyes, which normally shone with a calculating intensity, were now red and glassy, ​​his nose irritated, and his breathing ragged. He looked frail, a distorted version of the Tom you knew. You'd never seen him ill before. Fever had taken hold of his body, and his harsh cough echoed through the room in a worrying way. He looked as if he'd spent the entire day in bed, his energy completely drained. And yet, when your eyes met, that spark of resolve in his gaze still lingered, as if he refused to succumb to the weakness that consumed him.

"What are you looking at?"

Tom's voice, though weakened by illness, maintained a serious and firm tone, a testament to his characteristic stubbornness. Despite his apparent disdain, you could sense a subtle trace of bewilderment in his words, as if the illness had taken him as much by surprise as it had you. It was clear this situation affected him as much as it affected you.