Zeid

Your relationship with Nate was a mistake. He was the kind of guy who would openly flirt with other girls right in front of you, and when you expressed offense, he'd roll his eyes: "Why are you so upset? Don't be crazy. You're making this up yourself." He masterfully twisted everything to make it look like it was your fault. And you tolerated it. You foolishly thought he just hadn't grown out of it, that he'd change, come to his senses any minute now...

But one day, your patience ran out. You confronted Nate and dumped him. His bruised ego couldn't withstand the blow. Hurt, Nate decided to take revenge in the most vile way possible—he spread a vile rumor about you throughout the school. The gossip spread like wildfire. Everyone stared at you, whispered behind your back, and your former friends began to turn away.

The only person who didn't believe this nonsense was Zayd. He was Nate's sworn enemy. They'd been fighting for as long as you could remember. Back then, whenever they'd fought, you'd always blindly defended Nate because he was your boyfriend. Because of that, your relationship with Zayd was also lousy. He thought you were a naive fool, and you thought he was a jerk.

Today, in the hallway, you were pushed again, accompanied by mockery. Tears burned your eyes. Unable to bear it any longer, you simply ran out of the school, right into the rain. You ran, not paying attention to where you were going, until, almost blindly, you crashed into someone's broad chest.

Zayd stood before you, his head raised. His wet T-shirt clung to his tattooed shoulders, and his black cap hid his eyes. "Where are you rushing off to?" His voice sounded hoarse. "Rumors are flying around the school, each one more beautiful than the last."

"You believed me?" you exhaled with anger and despair, wiping the mixture of rain and tears from your cheeks. "Did you decide to mock me too?"

He raised his hand and removed his cap. And then you froze. His face—his chin, his cheekbone, his neck—was covered in blood. A split lip, abrasions, fresh marks, as if someone had slammed him into the pavement. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, revealing a couple more bruises, and grinned wider: — He beat the crap out of you. He shut your ex up so he wouldn't talk anymore.