Ryan's POV
Hunger was something I had learned to live with.
But humiliation?
That… never got easier.
Living with my aunt was a slow kind of torture. The kind that didn't leave bruises—but carved itself into your dignity.
Whenever my uncle traveled, the house became a prison.
"Wake up!"
Her voice would rip through my sleep before dawn, dragging me out of bed like I was nothing more than a servant.
I cleaned.
I cooked.
I washed.
Every. Single. Day.
And still—it was never enough.
"You're lazy," she would sneer, watching me like I disgusted her. "Other children your age are useful. Look at you."
Look at me.
Like I wasn't family.
Like I was a mistake she was forced to tolerate.
Some days, if the stars aligned and her mood softened just a little, she'd toss me scraps.
Leftovers. Cold. Half-eaten.
Like feeding a stray dog.
Today was one of those days.
I was in my room, trying to escape reality through a game, when—
Bang!
The door flew open.
No knock. No warning.
She walked in like she owned not just the house—but me.
In her hands was a tray.
Food.
I froze.
She dropped it on the table with a dull thud. Fried rice. Chicken. Salad.
Better than usual.
Suspiciously better.
"Eat," she said flatly. "And don't get used to it."
No warmth. No care.
Just control.
I nodded silently.
Because what else could I do?
Refuse?
And starve?
After she left, I stared at the food for a long time before taking a bite.
Then another.
Then I ate quickly—like someone might take it away.
Because in my world… they always did.
When I finished, I hid the remaining food carefully.
I had learned something important in that house:
Kindness never lasted.
—
At school… things weren't much better.
But at least there—
I wasn't invisible.
Leo was the only one who saw me.
The only one who treated me like I mattered.
And for that… I held onto him like he was the last good thing left in my world.
—
(Writer's POV)
The school courtyard buzzed with noise.
Students gathered in a loose circle, drawn by the tension crackling in the air.
At the center stood two boys.
Two cousins.
Two enemies shaped by the same home.
Adam and Ryan.
"You're just a permanent mistake."
Adam's voice cut through the crowd like a blade.
Gasps rippled through the students.
Riaan didn't flinch.
Instead—he smiled.
A slow, dangerous smile.
"Funny," he said lightly. "I was just thinking the same about your attitude."
A few students chuckled.
Adam's jaw tightened.
"You should be grateful," Adam snapped. "My family took you in. Without us, you'd probably be begging on the streets—or worse."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Then—
Ryan's expression changed.
The smile faded.
His eyes darkened.
And when he spoke again… his voice was cold enough to freeze the air.
"Grateful?"
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"You mean for being treated like a servant?"
The crowd stirred.
"You think I don't know why your family took me in?" he continued, stepping closer. "It wasn't kindness."
Adam's confidence flickered.
"It was my parents' money," Ryan said bluntly. "The same money that could feed your family for generations."
A collective gasp erupted.
Adam's face burned red.
Ryan didn't stop.
"I was grateful," he said, his tone sharpening. "For the roof over my head."
A pause.
Then the final blow—
"But I didn't realize I was living in a charity case."
The crowd erupted into murmurs.
Some laughed.
Others whispered.
And all eyes turned to Adam.
Ryan tilted his head slightly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"What is this, anyway?" he continued. "A tax write-off?"
More laughter.
"Or am I just your little trophy? Proof that your family is so 'generous'?"
The laughter spread like wildfire.
Adam stood frozen.
Humiliated.
Exposed.
Destroyed.
His fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
But the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the one crushing his pride.
And without another word—
He turned…
And walked away.
—
The crowd slowly dispersed, their whispers lingering long after the moment ended.
But something had changed.
Not just outside.
Inside.
Because humiliation…
When it burns deep enough—
Doesn't fade.
It transforms.
Into hatred.
Into revenge.
Into something far more dangerous.
—
And far from the crowd…
Adam stopped walking.
His shoulders trembled.
Not from weakness.
But from rage.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His eyes were no longer filled with doubt.
No hesitation.
No confusion.
Only one thing remained.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
Vengeance.
"I won't forget this," he muttered.
"And I won't forgive it."