When Hate Writes Back
Chapter 1 — Between the Lines
Boxes.
That's all I saw. Brown, taped, stacked like walls in a place that wasn't home.
My dad hadn't explained much — only that "we needed a change." His words were sharp, final, the kind you didn't argue with. I tried once, and he'd just sighed, told me I'd "understand later." But later never came. Instead, here I was, in a town where the streets didn't know my name and the air didn't feel mine.
I hated it already.
I dropped onto my new bed, stiff and unwelcoming, and stared at the half-empty notebook I'd carried since I was ten. The one thing that never changed. Letters once written in shaky handwriting, folded into envelopes, mailed across oceans. Now, years later, those letters had turned into glowing words on a screen — still anonymous, still secret, still… mine.
My pen pal.
My only constant.
I opened my laptop, fingers already itching to type. If I couldn't scream at my dad for uprooting my life, at least I could write it to someone who'd understand.
"He did it again. No reason, no warning. Just packed us up and left. Sometimes I think he forgets I'm not luggage. I wish I could tell him how much it hurts, but I don't think he'd hear me. You always do. You're the only one who ever does."
I hit send before I could overthink.
The reply didn't take long. It never did.
"You're not luggage, Jay. You're the strongest person I know. If the world keeps moving you around, maybe it's because it knows you can survive it. But that doesn't mean you're alone. You have me. Always."
My chest ached in that stupid, familiar way.
Whoever he was, wherever he was — he made me feel seen in a way nobody else ever had.
Too bad tomorrow, I had to walk into a brand-new school. Alone. With no idea that the boy I already hated most would turn out to be the same one who'd just promised me forever.