Happy breakup
773 Views · Ongoing · leon
Kane was the undisputed tyrant of our high school, notoriously ruthless with his words.
I’d always been on the curvier side. When the new, form-fitting cheer uniforms arrived at the locker room, Kane hadn't held back his mocking laugh.
"Are you seriously going to parade around in that?" he had sneered. "Please. You look like a pig about to burst out of its casing. It's embarrassing."
I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’d mentally broken down over Kane’s acidic remarks. But every time, I forced myself to swallow the humiliation.
Why? Because he was the state's most coveted star quarterback.
Because whenever someone else tried to give me hell, he’d step in with that fiercely impatient, undeniably protective attitude of his. That was my justification.
That was, until the eve of the State Championship.
Daisy, a nobody freshman who had barely scraped her way onto the cheer squad, took the confidential playbook our team had spent three agonizing months perfecting, and handed it straight to our biggest rivals.
Normally, Kane would have sneered and verbally shredded the culprit until there was nothing left of their dignity.
But this time? He just stepped forward, pulled a pack of tissues from the pocket of his expensive letterman jacket, tossed it at Daisy’s feet, and looked away.
"Stop crying," he said, his voice strangely subdued. "The damage is done, and tears won't fix a damn thing. Besides, your face gets all red and swollen when you cry. It's an ugly look."
I’d always been on the curvier side. When the new, form-fitting cheer uniforms arrived at the locker room, Kane hadn't held back his mocking laugh.
"Are you seriously going to parade around in that?" he had sneered. "Please. You look like a pig about to burst out of its casing. It's embarrassing."
I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’d mentally broken down over Kane’s acidic remarks. But every time, I forced myself to swallow the humiliation.
Why? Because he was the state's most coveted star quarterback.
Because whenever someone else tried to give me hell, he’d step in with that fiercely impatient, undeniably protective attitude of his. That was my justification.
That was, until the eve of the State Championship.
Daisy, a nobody freshman who had barely scraped her way onto the cheer squad, took the confidential playbook our team had spent three agonizing months perfecting, and handed it straight to our biggest rivals.
Normally, Kane would have sneered and verbally shredded the culprit until there was nothing left of their dignity.
But this time? He just stepped forward, pulled a pack of tissues from the pocket of his expensive letterman jacket, tossed it at Daisy’s feet, and looked away.
"Stop crying," he said, his voice strangely subdued. "The damage is done, and tears won't fix a damn thing. Besides, your face gets all red and swollen when you cry. It's an ugly look."

















































