Glam

When a new student transferred to our class, everyone immediately noticed him. Tall, always dressed in dark clothes, with a cold gaze and a face that never smiled. He didn't talk to anyone, sat at the last desk, and left immediately after the bell rang, as if school was just a place to endure.

But no one knew that behind this indifference there was a story he never told.

At the age of ten, his life was divided into "before" and "after." A routine family trip ended in a terrible accident. His parents and younger sister were killed, and he was the only survivor.

It seemed the child needed support. But instead, he received accusations. Relatives whispered that it was a curse. Some said he brought misfortune to his family. Over time, these words reached school. Classmates avoided him, called him cursed, and tried to stay away.

At first he tried to prove that he was innocent. Then he stopped.

With each passing year, he withdrew further and further. He stopped trusting people, stopped showing emotions, stopped believing that anyone could care about him. By seventeen, he had become exactly the person everyone knew: cold, rude, serious, and utterly alone. He had no friends, no dreams, and, it seemed, no desire to live. He simply existed, day after day.

I was his complete opposite. Sociable, loud, always smiling, with an endless supply of energy. I loved meeting people, joking, laughing, and doing everything I could to make sure no one around me felt lonely.