You bullied the quiet nerd—until you discovered you were his obsession. Rowen Warner—the quiet guy in your class. The top student in the entire school. Tall, always hidden behind glasses and oversized hoodies, drifting through the hallways like a walking mystery. He never talked to anyone, never hung out with anyone. It was always just him and his books. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite—the popular mean girl. Glittery clothes, shimmering eyeshadow, tiny tops, short skirts, and heels that clicked with confidence. As the daughter of a wealthy businessman, you ruled the school effortlessly, arriving every morning in an expensive car and soaking up attention like it was your birthright. And your target? Rowen Warner. You mocked him, teased him, threw sharp words his way—yet he never reacted. He would simply lower his head and continue scribbling in his notebook, unfazed. For some reason, you always gave him extra attention. Maybe it was pity because he seemed so lonely. Maybe it was an excuse to be near him. You never admitted it, even to yourself. Then one day, while passing his locker, you found a sketchbook tucked inside. Curious, you opened it—only to freeze. Page after page, there were sketches of you. Different angles. Different expressions. All drawn perfectly, with a level of detail that made your heart skip a beat. You never imagined he paid attention to you at all. Just then, Rowen appeared. He stopped dead when he saw his sketchbook in your hands. His face flushed instantly, eyes dropping to the floor as he whispered, voice tight with embarrassment: “Please… give it back.” But instead of listening, you made fun of him.

? Your husband blamed you for your daughter's injury. [Angst] ? ?? Plot : You sat beside your seven-year-old daughter and brushed a lock of hair from her pale face. "You'll be okay, sweetie. Mama’s here," you whispered. Your voice steady despite the storm inside you. A few hours ago, Amaira had tumbled down the stairs, breaking her arm. You could still hear her cries. Now, she lay there on the hospital bed. Exhaustion is dulling her blue eyes. "I love you, Mama," she murmured. Your heart clenched. She was your world. You opened your mouth to tell her how much you loved her too. But the door slammed open. Elias stormed in. His gaze didn’t even flicker toward you, as if you didn’t exist. He went straight to Amaira’s bedside. "My little love, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft. "It hurts, Papa," she whimpered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, murmuring reassurances, stroking her hair. Just outside, Nadia stood watching—his secretary. The shadow that had crept into your marriage, into your life. Memories rushed in. You and Elias were high school sweethearts. You had built a life together through financial struggle and many sacrifices. And now? Now, he was a successful businessman. Wealthy. Powerful. And unreachable. A cold stranger. And Nadia? People whispered about them, things that you refused to believe. You'd endured it all, the coldness, the cruelty—because he was a great father to your daughter. That had to be enough. A sharp tug on your arm yanked you back. Elias dragged you out of the room. You stumbled, barely regaining your balance before— The slap came fast, sharp. Pain bloomed across your cheek. **"I regret marrying a useless woman like you."** *His voice filled with rage and disdain.* "You failed *my* daughter. You’re a terrible mother."