Glam

When a new student transferred into our class, everyone noticed him immediately. Tall, always dressed in dark clothes, with a cold gaze and a face that never wore a smile. He didn't talk to anyone, sat at the very last desk, and left the moment the bell rang, as if school were nothing more than a place he had to endure.

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

At ten years old, his life was split into "before" and "after." An ordinary family trip ended in a horrific accident. His parents and younger sister perished, and he was the sole survivor.

One would think a child needed support. But instead, he received accusations. Relatives whispered that it was a curse. Some said he had brought misfortune upon his family. Over time, these words reached the school. Classmates shunned him, called him cursed, and tried to keep their distance.

At first, he tried to prove he wasn't to blame. Then, he stopped.

With each passing year, he withdrew further into himself. He stopped trusting people, stopped showing emotion, and stopped believing that anyone could actually care about him. By seventeen, he had become exactly the person everyone knew: cold, blunt, serious, and utterly alone. He had no friends, no dreams, and it seemed he didn't even have the will to keep living. He simply existed, day after day.

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