Lynch’s POV
I was bullied by classmates and humiliated by teachers.
I was an outcast while Heddy was the new girl—refined, striking.
The moment she arrived, every pair of eyes turned her way.
Someone warned her to stay away from me, saying I was the bastard son of a homewrecker and was born filthy.
Heddy didn’t say a word. But her gaze on me grew deeper and more unreadable.
When it came time to switch seats, no one wanted to sit with me. They dragged my desk over by the trash cans.
Only Heddy stepped forward, saying she wanted to sit with me.
I could feel her edging closer—subtle but unmistakable.
But I was too used to keeping my head down and too used to thinking I didn’t deserve it.
Whenever she moved toward me, I took a step back.
Every time we “accidentally” ran into each other, I always ended up fleeing in embarrassment.
I never imagined she’d chase me all the way to my house.
That day, my father broke my leg. I took a medical leave from school.
Heddy showed up at my door with my homework—only to walk right into the middle of one of my parents’ screaming matches.
My dad drained her savings, maxed out credit cards in her name, and used her inheritance.
Then, once he’d taken everything, he handed her divorce papers and told her to walk away with nothing.
To break her, he started flaunting his mistress—dinner dates, parties, photos online.
And to top it off, he spun the story to make my mom look like the villain, saying she ruined the marriage, calling her the mistress.
But the real other mistress just lived downstairs.
Every time we passed her place, my father would stop and look long and hard in her direction.
And every time he did, I knew what was waiting for me at home.
The beatings came right after.
One night, my mother ran out into a storm—in slippers, clutching the medicine I needed.
But she died under the wheels of a truck.
My father didn’t come home that night. The next morning, he walked in with the mistress, grinning like nothing happened.
Because I was home, they kept their hands off each other—but their eyes spoke loud enough.
And every time I caught my father staring, my skin would crawl until the day I turned eighteen.
That night, he looked at me with the same eyes.
He tried to lock my door, but I smashed a bottle over his head and ran.
On the way out, I ran straight into Heddy. She’d come to bring me homework.
My father chased us into an alley with a butcher’s knife.
The moment before the blade came down on me, Heddy threw herself in front of it.
The cops and ambulance arriving together came a little too late.
Her shoulder was torn open to the bone, but she smiled at me.
“Lynch, you’re safe now.”
Then she passed out.
I stayed by her side all night, refusing to sleep a second.
When she woke up, we were together, like it was always meant to be.
I stroked the bandages on her shoulder with tears in my eyes.
“You really love me. I can see it,” I whispered. “I can read someone’s heart in their eyes. If yours ever change, I’ll walk away without a word.”
Heddy—eighteen, brave and still recovering—lifted her good arm and rubbed it against my head.
“Silly. Then you’ll never have to leave. Not in this lifetime.”
I knew she didn’t believe me. And neither of us thought those words would come true.
After that night, the bullying at school disappeared. My classmates suddenly treated me with kindness.
Heddy lifted her chin like a proud peacock. “See? I told you—you’ve got something. They just didn’t see it. Stop doubting yourself. As long as I’m here, no one’s ever laying a finger on you again.”
Step by step, she pulled me out of the shadows, teaching me to stop hiding and lift my head and look toward the sun.
A month later, I found her in an alley behind school, chasing down a thug and beating him senseless.
“That’s what you get for messing with Lynch! Got it? Now get lost!”
That was the first time I realized—girls had strength I never imagined.
After that, the memories began to blur; I couldn’t quite remember the way she looked at me back then.
I went back alone… to the apartment where we used to live before the wedding.
