The road stretched endlessly ahead. Antonia drove with her hands gripping the wheel, her knuckles white—betraying the fury and despair boiling inside her. Beside her, Gabriela stared out the window, headphones on, pretending not to hear her mother's muffled sobs.

The glass reflected her own face back at her: freckles scattered across her skin, and those mismatched eyes—one white with a black iris, the other as dark as night. She looked strange. She had always looked strange. And that word haunted her like a curse: strange, strange, strange.

Memories crashed into her mind, one after another, like stones hurled against the fragile glass of her thoughts.

"You're always late, always!" Her mother's voice echoed inside her, the same one that had so often filled the living room of the home they no longer had. "Who were you with this time?"

"You can't be reasoned with," her father would answer, arms crossed, his coldness cutting deeper than any shout. "You're toxic, Antonia. You don't understand anything."

"Of course I don't understand! How could I possibly understand you cheating on me in my own house? How do I understand you going after a girl twenty years younger?"

"Because she doesn't suffocate me," he would reply, calm and cruel, while Gabriela, hidden on the staircase, fought back sobs.

Fights were their nightly ritual. The echo of insults still rang in Gabriela's head, as if no time had passed since that final slammed door. Now, without a home, without a car, without anything, all that remained was the monthly payment her father sent "for the girl." That phrase pierced her like a knife: the girl—not his daughter, not someone he loved, just an obligation, a bill to pay.

Gabriela bit her lip until she tasted iron. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the tears slipped out anyway. Music filled her ears, but even that couldn't drown the emptiness hollowing her out. She had cried so many nights in silence that it had become mechanical, like breathing.

The car finally rolled to a stop in front of a wooden cabin, lonely on the edge of a small town. The place where her mother had been born. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, so different from the city they'd left behind.

Antonia killed the engine but didn't get out right away. Her eyes were red, her skin pulled tight from too much crying. She forced a smile at her daughter.

"Come on, Gabi. This… this is our new beginning."

Gabriela pulled off her headphones and met her mother's gaze. Her voice cracked, but her words carried a sharpness that was all armor.

"Really, Mom? A new beginning? Dad left us with nothing… and all you do is cry over him."

The silence that followed hit harder than any argument. Antonia swallowed, her daughter's words tearing her chest apart.

"Don't talk like that," she whispered, though her voice had no strength. "I… I loved him."

Gabriela got out without answering, slamming the door. The cold wind whipped through her hair, and for a fleeting moment she wished she could be someone else—another life, another face, other parents. She walked up to the cabin and stared at it. Old, worn wood, a porch that creaked at the slightest movement. A place forgotten by time, just like her.

Antonia came up behind her and placed a trembling hand on her shoulder.

"I know this is hard. But we have to try."

Gabriela turned to face her, those mismatched eyes gleaming. A single tear slid down her cheek.

"You had Dad… and you lost him. I never had anyone, Mom. Never."

The words cut the air like glass. Antonia reached to hug her, but Gabriela stepped back. The girl was trapped between grief and fury, crushed by the isolation that had clung to her since birth. No boy had ever dared come close; they all preferred mocking her eyes, her freckles, the strange way she existed.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she drew in a shaky breath. Her gaze drifted toward the town in the distance—stone streets, old lanterns, unfamiliar faces. A place where people would surely look at her the same way as always: first with curiosity, then with scorn.

But something burned inside her chest. A strange fire, born from pain too heavy to bear.

"I don't want to live like this anymore," she whispered, barely audible, her lips trembling. "I'm tired of being invisible, of crying in silence. If this place is going to be my hell… it'll also be where I change my life."

Antonia didn't fully understand. Gabriela, headphones hanging around her neck, lifted her chin and took the first step toward the cabin.

That town had no idea what was coming.

Gabriela crossed the threshold and felt it instantly: this house wasn't hers. The smell of old wood, the dusty furniture, the silence as heavy as a coffin.

This feels like a place for people already dead inside… she thought bitterly. But soon she couldn't hold it in.

"I hate this house!" she shouted, eyes brimming. "It looks like it's meant for old people!"

Her mother froze, words failing her. Lips trembling, searching for something to say, some excuse to soften the blow—but nothing came.

Gabriela didn't wait. She ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned against it, breathing hard. That loneliness was the final push.

With trembling hands, she dug into her bag. The bottle was there, hidden for days. Without hesitation, she poured the pills into her palm and swallowed them all at once. The bitter taste burned her throat.

Five minutes passed. Dizziness hit her like a black wave. Staggering, she unlocked the door and stumbled out to the backyard. The cold night air gave no relief. In front of her loomed the water tower, its massive tank suspended high above. Perfect. The ending she deserved.

She climbed with faltering steps, vision blurred with tears. At the top, she opened her hands, closed her eyes, and let herself fall.

But she never hit the ground.

Strong hands caught her midair, as if fate itself had intervened. Gabriela's eyes flew open, stunned.

A boy stood before her. Young, with golden hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and sharp, feline eyes that pierced straight through her. Her heart lurched wildly in her chest. But something else stole her breath, like a sky lit with shooting stars: one of his eyes was just like hers. White, gleaming, like shattered glass.

He set her gently on the ground.

"Why would you try something like that?" His voice was deep, steady.

"I just… want to stop hurting…" Gabriela whispered, barely conscious.

"Don't be foolish. Life—" he began, but his words faded as she shut her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, she was lying on the living room couch. She touched her chest, her arms, her face—everything was still there.

"What… happened?" she murmured.

Then she saw it. In her hand was a folded letter, written in elegant strokes of some strange language she couldn't understand. She only knew one thing: that boy wasn't ordinary. He bore a mark like hers… and that couldn't be coincidence.

She breathed deeply, and for the first time in so long, fear and curiosity tangled inside her. A thought struck her sharp and sudden:

Was it a dream? Or was that boy real?

The table was set, but Gabriela barely touched her food. The aroma of roasted meat mixed with the herbs her mother had placed in a bowl, yet to her everything tasted dull, as if dinner had been made of ashes.

While her mother talked about school, a sudden flash crossed her mind. It wasn't a clear memory—more like a blurred image, as if it were an old photograph stained by moisture. She couldn't quite make out the boy's face, but there was one detail she would never forget: a white eye, identical to her own… and golden hair that seemed to drink in the light. That hazy image struck her all at once, sending a shiver through her body that she couldn't explain.

"Tomorrow will be a good day, Gabi," her mother said with a tired but determined smile. "Things will be different here. I promise."

Gabriela forced a smile, lowering her gaze to the plate. Different? A bitter certainty rose inside her: a new beginning didn't always mean freedom. She remembered well what it felt like to be singled out, the laughter echoing in her head as if it still lingered, chasing her. They're going to make fun of me again… The very thought made her stomach twist.

The silence between them stretched on. Outside, the night itself seemed to hold its breath. Gabriela lifted her eyes toward the window, and then she saw it: a shadow, still, outlined against the curtain. Her heart leapt so violently she nearly spilled her glass.

"What's wrong?" her mother asked, noticing the tremor in her hand.

Gabriela blinked, swallowed hard, and shook her head quickly."N-no… it's nothing."

But the hairs on her arms stayed on edge, as if the night itself had brushed against her with invisible fingers.

Dawn came wrapped in a dull gray, as if the sky itself carried the same heaviness pressing down on Gabriela's chest.

It was her first day at the secondary school in that forgotten, frozen town—a place that smelled of damp wood, of old earth, of silence.

Her mother walked beside her, saying nothing, but the tension between them was palpable.

Gabriela descended the cabin's stairs with her dark sunglasses already on. She didn't want to show her eyes. Sometimes she believed those two orbs of hers were the root of all the world's rejection: one completely white with a black iris floating in the center, like a sickly moon; the other a bottomless black, as if it could swallow any gaze. They were her mark, her curse.

Her mother gave her a quick glance but didn't judge. She respected her daughter's choice, though the sadness showed at the corners of her lips.

The drive to school was silent. Only the hum of the engine and the wind striking the windows filled the air. Gabriela pressed her sweaty palms against her skirt, feeling the air grow thicker with every kilometer.

When the car stopped in front of Black Hollow Secondary, her heart faltered.

The building was massive, old, with gray walls and windows that looked like watchful eyes. It resembled an abandoned hospital more than a school.

She drew a deep breath, swallowed hard, and forced herself to step out of the car. The cold hit her immediately—sharp, biting—but not as harsh as the stares of some students lingering by the entrance.

"Good luck, sweetheart," her mother said, brushing her hair back before planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

Gabriela gave a weak nod and began walking. Her steps felt as heavy as if she were dragging chains. Fear wrapped around her, but then—something shifted.

She saw him.

A boy, standing not far from the entrance, turned toward her. His black hair seemed to swallow the morning light, and his dark eyes cut through her like blades. But they weren't just eyes—there was fire in them, a strange heat that swept across her skin, chilling her spine while igniting her chest all at once. Gabriela felt a burn beneath her skin, a tingling that spread like electricity.

He didn't say a word. He simply looked at her for a few seconds, then, with an unexpected gesture, gave a faint smile. Barely there, but enough to carve itself into her bones. The warmth it stirred was unlike the golden-haired boy in her fractured memory.

Gabriela's legs nearly gave out. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. The air turned too dense to swallow.

Maybe… maybe things really could be different, she thought, though she hardly believed it herself.

She forced herself to keep walking. Some eyes lingered on her, inquisitive, while others dismissed her as though she were invisible. Every glance was a blade tearing at her skin.

Inside the classroom, the teacher lifted her eyes from her papers and examined Gabriela with a restrained smile."You must be Gabriela Velmora, right?""Y-yes…" Her voice came out small, barely audible."Well then, welcome to Black Hollow Secondary," the teacher announced to the class.

Dozens of eyes pierced into her like spears. Some whispered, some girls scrutinized her with judgment written in their faces. Yet one girl gave her a timid smile—a fragile beam of light in the gloom. The boys, on the other hand, regarded her with distant curiosity, more intrigued by appearances than anything else.

Gabriela longed to run, to escape, but her legs refused. She only managed to walk to an empty seat, collapse into it, and shrink as if to disappear.

The teacher was just about to begin the lesson when the door opened.

Time seemed to freeze.

A boy walked in. Tall, moving with slow, assured steps, as if his very presence bent the room around him. Golden hair, almost radiant, and piercing green eyes that seemed to light up the dim classroom.

Gabriela forgot how to breathe.

Her heart stopped.

And then—she remembered.

That fleeting moment on the water tower. The dizzying fall. The hands that caught her in midair. The blurred face of the boy who had saved her. That same golden hair. And in her memory, one detail sharper than all the rest—his eye, the same strange white eye that mirrored hers.

The world vanished. There was only him.

"Mr. Draven, this is the second day you've arrived late," the teacher said, her voice straining to sound firm.

He lifted his gaze only slightly, without the faintest trace of remorse, and replied in a voice dry and sharp as a blade:"It won't happen again."

Gabriela watched him through her dark glasses, torn between fear and fascination. She couldn't look away. It was him. The boy who had pulled her back from death.

But he didn't spare her a glance. He walked past her with the same indifference one shows to grass underfoot and sat two rows behind her.

Gabriela bit her lip, battling herself. She didn't want to turn, didn't want to seem weak, but something invisible tugged at her, consuming her.

The air around her seemed to vibrate, like an unseen thread stretched between them.

She turned, just slightly, as if drawn by a magnet. And in that instant, their eyes met.

His look was fleeting, simple, cold—like melting ice. Yet it was enough to send her gaze darting away, her heart hammering.

Is it him? Or am I just mistaken? The doubt gnawed at her, but the truth was clear: she was caught, ensnared by something she couldn't name.

Unbeknownst to her, he did notice. When she curled into her seat, small and trembling, a quiet, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. A smile he hadn't shown the world in a very long time.

Gabriela didn't see it. But that smile sealed something—an invisible pact, a bond that, though hidden in shadow, now tied them together.

The cafeteria buzzed with voices, hollow laughter, and trays clattering against the metal tables. Gabriela walked in with her own tray in hand, as if it were far too heavy for her arms. She had barely taken two steps when a murmur slithered down the aisle:

"Look at her… who wears sunglasses in here?""She must be a weirdo."

The muffled laughs scraped against her ears. It was the same feeling as her old school—the hostility hidden in whispers, the sharp cruelty of staring eyes. She pressed her lips together tightly, fighting to keep her face from trembling, and continued toward the back of the cafeteria, where an empty table waited like a silent refuge.

But before she could sit down, her eyes found him.

Osue Draven.

He was surrounded by a small circle of students: two couples that looked like they'd stepped out of a picture-perfect portrait, and a girl whose laughter rang out too brightly, like tinkling bells. Yet Gabriela's attention wasn't on them—it was on him.

The blond boy looked at her for a few seconds, with that loaded indifference that carried more weight than any smile. Then he looked away, but the impression lingered—the sense of an aura around him, sacred and untouchable. Not just him, but all who surrounded him radiated that same otherworldly presence, as if an invisible line separated them from everyone else. And yet, Osue… he was different. There was something in his silence, a dark magnetism that caught her and refused to let her look away.

Gabriela sank into the empty seat. Her eyes fixed on her plate, as if hiding from the pressure in her chest. Only a few seconds passed before a gentle voice broke her isolation.

"Mind if I sit here?"

She looked up and saw the same girl who had given her a kind smile in class.

"Sure," Gabriela replied, her voice tense with shyness.

The girl set her tray down and sat across from her."I'm Ana," she said brightly. "You're Gabriela, right?"

Gabriela nodded."Yeah, Gabriela."

Ana extended her hand with ease. Gabriela hesitated for an instant, then accepted it. The handshake was brief, but warm.

"Where are you from?" Ana asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

"New York."

"No way!" Ana's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "I've never even left this town."

She paused for a moment, then leaned in."So… what brought you to a place this far away?"

Gabriela lowered her gaze, fidgeting with her fingers on the table as if trying to catch something invisible."It's… a really long story."

"Well," Ana said with a smile, "I'd love to hear it someday."

Gabriela gave a small nod, but her eyes—traitorous eyes—had already drifted back toward Osue and the group around him. There was something about them, a dark nobility, as though they didn't belong to the same world as the rest of the students.

"Who are they?" she finally whispered.

Ana followed her gaze and smiled knowingly."They're the Dravens. Their family founded this town. They're rich, powerful… pretty much everyone here worships them."

"And him?" Gabriela couldn't stop herself. Her eyes were locked on the blond boy.

Ana sighed, as though sharing a secret too tempting to keep."His name's Osue. And yeah, he's gorgeous." She laughed with a nervous, admiring edge. "But don't get your hopes up. He's super quiet, distant… like he lives in another world. You'll only ever see him with his family. He doesn't talk to anyone else."

Heat flushed Gabriela's cheeks, and she quickly looked away, trying to hide it. Still, her heart kept hammering with a painful rhythm.

Then the cafeteria doors burst open.

The boy with jet-black hair walked in—the same one who had stared at her with unsettling intensity on her first day. Three others followed behind him, wearing their varsity jackets, arrogance in every step.

"That's Aaron Sandlers," Ana murmured, leaning closer. "Football captain. Popular, charming… and dangerous. Total ladies' man. His girlfriend is literally the hottest, most wanted girl in school."

Gabriela barely had time to absorb that when the atmosphere shifted. As soon as Aaron and his group sat down, the Dravens rose almost in unison, as if his presence was intolerable. They left with measured steps, not sparing a single glance behind.

Sunlight streaming through the windows caught Osue's face as he passed through the doorway, and that's when Gabriela saw it.

A mark.

A dark line that ran down the right side of his face and disappeared into the skin of his hand. So stark, so pronounced, that her heart skipped.

"Did you see that?" she whispered to Ana, eyes wide.

"See what?"

"That mark…" Gabriela faltered, suddenly feeling foolish. "Forget it."

Ana glanced at her sideways but didn't press.

Gabriela pressed her palms flat against the table. The cafeteria still buzzed with voices, stares, and whispers, but inside her there was only silence. That mark, that aura, that strange sense that she had seen him somewhere before—in another moment she couldn't yet piece together…

Osue noticed the instant Gabriela's gaze lingered on that mark he always kept hidden. He saw the flicker in her expression—surprise, doubt, something unnamed. His own eyes locked onto hers, cold and piercing, as though trying to wrench the secret of her reaction straight from her. He said nothing, but in that heavy silence, Gabriela felt the air itself thicken, as if he were asking her without words: Who are you? How did you notice the mark I carry?

Leaving the cafeteria, Osue's strides were firm, his jaw tight. He still felt the imprint of her gaze seared into him. There was something in her eyes that unsettled him—something that drew him in with a force he didn't understand, and didn't want to accept. It was as uncomfortable as it was addictive. For a fleeting moment, his thoughts darkened, and his pupils reflected the abyss he carried inside. He turned sharply, heading away from the classrooms.

The cheerful voice of one of his companions broke through his storm."Osue!" she called with a bright smile. "Class isn't over yet, where are you going?"

He didn't answer. Didn't even look at her. He just kept walking, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. His figure receded down the hall, carrying a gravity that warned anyone not to get too close.

From inside the cafeteria, Gabriela watched him go. She didn't fully understand why, but the boy, with his distant, enigmatic air, unsettled her. There was something broken in him, something he didn't want anyone to uncover.

What Gabriela didn't notice was the steady gaze fixed on her from across the room. Aaron was watching her with a calm, deliberate intensity, as if waiting for her to notice. It was Ana who nudged her gently with an elbow.

"Look, Gabriela… Aaron hasn't stopped staring at you."

Surprised, Gabriela turned her head just slightly, hesitant, but her eyes inevitably met his. Her cheeks flushed with involuntary shyness, though deep down, curiosity pushed her forward. Aaron smiled warmly when she met his gaze.

Almost without thinking, Gabriela returned a faint smile of her own. Something stirred inside her chest—a new feeling, like a world of unknown possibilities opening before her. Maybe coming here wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought silently, while that small spark of connection wrapped itself around her.

But deep in her chest, a quiet voice whispered that nothing about what lay ahead would be easy… or safe.