When Hate Writes Back
Chapter 3 — New Friend, Old Enemy
If surviving my first day felt like running a marathon, the second day was… a rerun of the same disaster.
I slipped into my seat, trying to disappear among the unfamiliar faces. This time, though, someone slid into the desk beside me with a smile too bright for eight in the morning.
"Hi! You're new, right?"
Her hair was a cascade of soft waves, her eyeliner sharp enough to kill. She looked like she belonged here—confident, flawless. Meanwhile, I was just… me.
"Uh, yeah. Jay," I said, forcing a smile.
"Estelle," she replied, extending her hand like we were about to sign a business deal. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't drown here. You've officially been adopted."
"Adopted?"
"Mhm." She leaned in conspiratorially. "New students need protection. I volunteer as tribute."
Something in me loosened. For the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel invisible—or worse, unwanted.
But then, the door slammed open. And in walked him.
Tall. Confident. Smug, like he owned the entire hallway. My stomach sank.
"Oh no," I muttered.
Estelle followed my gaze. "Ooooh… you've already met him, haven't you?"
"Unfortunately," I grumbled.
Her brows shot up. "Spill."
So I did. The hallway clash, the arrogant smirk, the way he'd acted like he could crush me with a single glance. Estelle listened, her grin growing wider by the second.
"You hate him," she whispered, delighted. "Like, really hate him."
"Obviously."
She tapped her pen against her notebook. "Ohhh… this is gonna be fun."
I groaned, dropping my head onto the desk. "Fun for who?"
"Me," she said with a smirk. "Watching you destroy him one snarky comment at a time."
That night, I typed furiously to my pen pal — the one who always seemed to understand me, the one who had been my constant for years.
"Day two, and I already have a nemesis. He's insufferable. I'd trade schools again if it meant never seeing his stupid smirk."
The reply came quickly, as always:
"Sometimes the people we clash with the most are the ones worth figuring out."
I scowled at the screen. Easy for them to say. They didn't have to sit across from him every single day.
Or so I thought.