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(Celix's POV)

The loud banging on the door snapped me out of sleep.

"Celix! Get up, it's already 7 a.m.!" my stepmother shouted sharply through the door. "There's no servant for you here! Make breakfast, or else...!"

I jumped off my thin mattress, heart pounding. My hands moved faster than my thoughts, pulling on an old sweatshirt as I rushed barefoot to the kitchen. The floor was cold, but fear was enough to wake me completely.

I didn't want to give her a reason to hit me again.

In the kitchen, I moved quickly - cracking eggs, buttering toast, chopping onions for the parathas - trying my best to ignore the anxiety twisting inside my chest.

She walked in just as I was flipping the last paratha.

"You're always so slow. If your mother were alive, she would've fixed you by now. But no, she left you with us before dying," she said bitterly, as if she hated every breath I took.

I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn't reply. I never did. Speaking back only made things worse.

Soon, everyone sat at the table. My stepmother looked as annoyed as always. My stepfather was reading the newspaper like he couldn't hear anything. My stepsister Rhea was already laughing at me.

"Ew, did you even brush your hair?" she sneered while chewing. "You look like you crawled out of a sewer."

I gave a tiny smile. It didn't reach my eyes.

"Sorry," I murmured. My voice felt too small. It always did.

She laughed and high-fived herself. "You should be."

I served everyone quietly, then stood in the corner like I always did - waiting to see if they'd leave any leftovers for me. Sometimes they didn't.

I'd gotten used to it.

Later, I got dressed for school. My uniform was wrinkled - I only had one set, and I could only wash it late at night when no one was around. My backpack was old, its strap stitched up with mismatched thread.

Still, I fixed my hair, cleaned my shoes the best I could, and stepped outside with a silent prayer in my heart.

When I reached the bus stop, I looked up at the sky.

Cloudy.

Just like me.

But I took a deep breath. School wasn't paradise, but it was better than home. At least I could breathe a little there. At least I could see him from afar.

Nevan.

Even if he never looked my way.

Even if he never knew.

Even if all I could do was write him letters and leave them like ghosts in his locker.

Because loving him - even secretly - still hurt less than being hated in my own home.

(Celix's Flashback)

It was about a year and a half ago.

My mother was in the hospital again. This time, it was worse. I could tell by the way the doctors kept giving me sad looks. She had been sick for a long time, but this illness... it was different. No one had told me yet, but I could feel it in my bones.

We had no money left. My dad had stopped caring a long time ago, and now, when I needed him the most, he just turned his back. I tried to ask for help - from anyone, everyone. I even begged my father's friends, but no one had a single rupee to spare.

"Celix, please. Don't come here asking for money," they all said, shaking their heads, "We have our own problems."

It was the same thing everywhere. I didn't know what else to do. How could I save my mom when no one cared enough to help? I was desperate. I went to every neighbor, every acquaintance, hoping someone would show mercy. But I was met with rejection after rejection.

I was standing on the corner of the street, feeling completely lost. It was a quiet evening, the streetlights casting long shadows across the empty road. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The world felt like it was collapsing on me.

And then, out of nowhere, I saw him.

Nevan.

He was sitting in his car, parked in the dim corner of the street, his back to me. I couldn't see his face, but I could see the faint glow of a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up into the darkening sky. There was something about him - something that made me freeze in place.

I didn't know why I went to him. Maybe I was just desperate. Maybe I was hoping that for once, someone would listen.

"Hey," I said quietly, approaching his car, keeping a safe distance. "I... I need your help."

Nevan didn't look at me. He just took another drag of his cigarette, the ember lighting up the space around him in brief flashes.

"Go away," he muttered, barely glancing in my direction. He wasn't in the mood, I could tell.

I didn't back down. "Please," I pushed. "It's for my mom. She's really sick, and... and I need money for the hospital bills. Please, just... help me."

For a moment, there was silence. I thought he was going to ignore me, like everyone else had. But then he flicked his cigarette out of the window and reached into his pocket.

Without saying a word, he pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to me.

I was so stunned that I almost didn't know what to do with it. "You... you're giving me this?"

"I don't care," he said, his voice cold. "Just take it and leave."

I took the money from his hand, almost shaking. I could feel the weight of it in my palms - a lifeline. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in my throat. I looked up at him, but he was already looking away, staring out the windshield, as if nothing had happened.

I didn't care at the moment. I was too grateful, too relieved. My mind was racing with thoughts I couldn't process. All I knew was that I had the money now. I could help my mom. I could do something.

But the strangest thing was, Nevan never looked at me. He never saw my face. It was as if he didn't care enough to know who I was.

But I saw him.

And from that night on, I couldn't get him out of my mind.

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