When Hate Writes Back
Chapter 9 — Accidental Sparks
It was another typical morning — or at least, I tried to convince myself it was.
The sun streamed through the classroom windows, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were crowded with one question: Why does he keep doing these… things?
History had been hell, as usual. Every time I raised my hand to answer a question, he had some snarky comment waiting, perfectly timed, infuriatingly precise. Yet underneath the sarcasm was something strange — a hint of awareness, maybe even a little concern.
During lunch, I found myself sliding into the seat across from him by accident. Well, not entirely by accident — the cafeteria was crowded, and apparently, the universe had decided he would be directly in my path.
"Great," I muttered under my breath, fumbling with my tray.
"Wow," he said, smirking, "your scowl could curdle milk."
I blinked at him. "You're charming as always."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know it."
I scowled, but my lips betrayed me and curled into a tiny smile. What is happening?
Estelle, sitting beside me, nudged my arm. "Careful, Jay. You're smiling. At him."
"I'm not smiling," I hissed.
"You literally are. That's a smile."
I rolled my eyes, trying to look indifferent. "Whatever."
But the truth? My chest felt tight. That same warmth I felt when reading my pen pal's messages — the comfort, the safety — it was creeping in here. With him. And I hated that it did.
"Here," he said suddenly, sliding a juice box across the table. "Thought you might need it. You looked like you were about to combust."
I froze. He noticed?
My pen pal would have written something like: "Take a breath. You don't have to carry the world alone. I've got you."
And yet here he was. He didn't know. He had no idea that his small gesture mirrored every word I had cherished for years. He was completely, utterly oblivious.
"Thanks," I muttered, and in spite of myself, I let my guard slip just a fraction.
"Careful," he said, smirk softening for a split second. "I might start thinking you like me."
I choked on my bite of sandwich. "Like you? Ha. No. Impossible."
But the truth? My pen pal had always made me feel… safe. Comforted. Seen. And somehow, the boy I hated in front of me — the one who teased, infuriated, and mocked me — was giving me the exact same feelings, without even knowing it.
Estelle groaned beside me. "Oh my god, Jay. Don't even think about it."
"I'm not thinking about anything," I said, heat rising in my cheeks.
And yet, as I left the cafeteria, I couldn't shake it. Every little thing he did today, every tiny interaction, felt like a secret echo of the boy I'd loved through letters and screens for years.
And still… he had no idea.
Oblivious. Completely oblivious.