Prologue

"Uhm… Nevan?"

Celix’s voice was barely a whisper, like the wind might carry it away before it reached the boy standing in front of him. Nevan turned, bored eyes landing on the nervous figure gripping his backpack straps like they were the only things holding him together.

"What?" Nevan asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I want to tell you something".*he barely whispered*

*Hesitate*

"I... I like you," Celix said, forcing the words out before his courage crumbled. "I’ve liked you for a while now. Will you… go out with me?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then Nevan smiled.

No—he smirked.

That trademark smirk he wore when he was about to win a game no one else knew they were playing.

"Sure. Why not?" he said coolly, slipping his hands into his pockets like this was just another Tuesday.

Celix blinked, surprised. "R-really?"

Nevan leaned in slightly, his smirk widening. "Yeah. Let’s date."

Celix’s heart raced. His cheeks turned pink, lips parting in awe. He didn’t notice the amusement in Nevan’s eyes. He didn’t catch the way the smirk never quite reached his heart.

He just thought—maybe, finally, something good was happening to him.

What he didn’t know was that this "yes" would change his entire life.

And that the boy he loved was only pretending to play along.

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This is My Second Novel – Please Read and Support It!

Hello, dear readers!

I’m so excited to share with you all that this is my second novel, and it means the world to me. Every page is filled with emotion, passion, and love, and I’ve poured my heart into every word. Writing a book is never easy, but the joy of creating a story that people can connect with, cry over, smile at, and think about long after reading—that’s what keeps me going.

If you liked my first book, I promise this one will touch your heart even deeper. And if this is the first time you're reading my work, I hope it becomes special to you. I’ve grown so much as a writer since my first novel, and I truly believe this story will leave a lasting impression.

This book isn’t just a story—it’s a journey. The characters are raw and real, and their emotions mirror the struggles and dreams many of us face. I’ve tried to bring life to every scene, to make the love feel real, the heartbreak relatable, and the moments of happiness worth waiting for.

So, I kindly ask:

Please read my second novel. Please support it. Please follow my journey.

Your love and encouragement inspire me to keep writing, to keep dreaming, and to keep giving you the stories you deserve.

If you enjoy it, don’t forget to leave a review, share it with your friends, and follow me for more updates. Every comment, every like, every kind word—means everything to me.

Thank you for being a part of this journey. Let’s make this second novel shine brighter than ever!

With love,

Your author

Nevan Hartley...

A rich and arrogant.

Self obsessed

Love only one thing.... 

That is himself (Nevan Hartley)

Celix Arden

A sweet and caring person

Loves painting

(In love with Nevan Hartley)

Chapter 1

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(Author’s POV)

The first rays of morning light slipped through the sheer curtains of Nevan’s massive bedroom. Everything inside was perfectly placed — white marble floors, designer furniture, and a king-sized bed where Nevan lay wrapped in silk sheets, like a prince resting in his palace.

A soft alarm melody played, and Nevan opened his eyes. There was the usual emptiness in them — the kind only a rich, lonely boy could understand. He sat up, ran a hand through his messy brown hair, and walked into the bathroom.

A while later, freshly showered and dressed, Nevan came downstairs. The breakfast table was already set — freshly squeezed orange juice, buttered croissants, scrambled eggs, and imported fruits. Everything looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

“Where are my mom and dad?” he asked casually, stirring the fruit with his spoon.

The maid bowed slightly and replied, “Sir and Madam left early this morning. They had to attend an important business meeting in another country.”

Nevan didn’t say anything. No surprise, no sadness. This was normal. He had long gotten used to silent breakfasts alone. Taking a bite, he picked up his phone, scrolled through a few notifications, and finished his meal without a word.

“Is the driver ready?” he asked, grabbing his bag.

“Yes, the car is waiting at the gate,” the maid responded.

Without another word, Nevan walked out of his mansion. Outside, his black luxury car was already waiting. The driver respectfully opened the door for him, and Nevan slipped into the back seat — sunglasses on, face set in his usual arrogant expression.

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As the car pulled into the school’s parking lot, Nevan leaned back, eyes half-closed, bored already. The gates of Saint Edric High stood tall and polished — a school where only the elite could afford to be mediocre.

The moment Nevan stepped out of the car, a few students turned to look. It wasn’t just because he was rich — it was the aura he carried. Confident. Untouchable. Dangerous in a way that made people want to be close but afraid to stay.

“Nevan!” a voice called.

It was Ray, his closest friend since middle school, followed by Kai and Eli, the usual crew. All of them wore the same smug expressions, the same branded clothes, and the same thirst for attention.

“Looking like you just walked out of a magazine again,” Kai smirked.

Nevan scoffed. “Can’t help it if I’m the standard.”

They walked together, laughing at some poor junior tripping on his shoelace, mocking a teacher’s outdated clothes, and tossing sarcastic comments like confetti. Nevan wasn’t the class clown — he was the ringmaster. Everyone either laughed with him… or quietly hated him.

After a few minutes of their usual nonsense, Nevan broke away from the group.

“Heading to my locker,” he muttered, waving a hand as he walked down the quieter hallway.

His locker sat near the end, right by the large windows that overlooked the sports field. As he unlocked it, something unexpected happened.

A folded piece of paper slipped out and landed at his feet.

Frowning, Nevan picked it up.

The paper was cream-colored, handwritten, no name, no decoration. Just clean, simple ink.

He unfolded it.

Nevan’s POV)

Another letter.

I found it the moment I opened my locker. Tucked neatly on top of my books, folded with care, its familiar creamy paper and soft ink almost taunting me now.

I didn’t even need to open it to know what it was. I could feel it in my fingertips — the way it pulsed with the same quiet longing I’d come to recognize. Every few weeks. Every month. Like clockwork. No name. No clues. Just emotion.

Still, I couldn’t help it.

I leaned back against the locker, blocking out the morning buzz of the hallway, and opened it carefully. The handwriting was the same — neat, delicate, and hauntingly beautiful.

Dear Nevan,

I know you still don’t know who I am.

Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think this is all just a silly game. But it’s not.

Not for me.

Every word I write, I mean. Every time I say I adore you — I mean it. Every time I watch you walk by and feel my chest ache, knowing I can’t reach out, I mean that, too.

You think you have everything — and maybe you do. The looks. The charm. The money. The girls. The boys. Anyone you want. But that’s not what I see when I look at you.

I see someone trying so hard to keep his heart untouched that he’s starting to forget he even has one.

But I see it. And I want to hold it. Just once.

— Yours. Always.

I stared at the last line.

"Yours. Always."

Who the hell ends letters like that anymore?

And yet... it made my chest feel strange. Like something soft was growing inside it. Dangerous and tender.

I wasn’t used to being spoken to like that — not without wanting something in return.

This person — whoever they were — never asked for anything. Never expected me to write back. Never even hinted at who they were.

It should’ve felt weird. Maybe even creepy.

But somehow... it didn’t.

It felt real. It felt raw.

Still holding the letter, I walked into class.

Damon raised his eyebrows the moment he saw it. “Don’t tell me—another one?”

I dropped into my seat and sighed. “Yup. Same as last time.”

Sera leaned over from behind, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Is it the same person? The mystery lover again?”

“Apparently.” I shrugged, waving the letter like it was no big deal. “They’ve been sending them for months. No name. No face. Just... this.”

“Damn,” Damon laughed. “What kind of person writes love letters in 2025? Don’t they know we have DMs?”

I smirked. “Guess they’re old-school.”

No one had any idea who it was.

Not even me.

And that was the worst part.

Because for someone like me — someone who could date anyone I wanted — I didn’t want just anyone anymore.

I wanted to know who was writing these letters like they knew my heart better than I did.

And maybe, just maybe… I was starting to wish it was someone I’d never expect.