All Chapters of Unrequited : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The longer I looked at him, the more something inside me started to burn. His face didn’t match what I knew he’d done. He had that calm, harmless look with soft features, eyes that could’ve belonged to anyone but a killer. And yet, he’d taken a life. My fists curled tight, nails biting into my palms, the sound of my own breathing filling the silence between us. Before I could stop myself, my arm moved. a single, hard punch landing square on his jaw. The impact echoed through the empty hall, sharp and final. He stumbled, caught himself against the wall, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looked up, there was no anger. Just shock… and something else I couldn’t place. “Why?” I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. “Why the hell would you do something like that to someone like him?” He didn’t answer right away — just stared at the ground like he was searching for the right words to make it all go away. When he finally spoke, his tone was eerily ca

My name’s Elian Collins, and I live in this lively town right in the heart of New York. the kind where something’s always happening. Cars, noise, flashing lights, people talking too loud. yeah, that’s home. Life’s been a rollercoaster lately. Ever since Dad passed, everything’s been… different. He was one of those people who filled every room he walked into. A politician, the CEO of our family company, and honestly, kind of a legend in his own right. People loved him. I did too. Still do. Now it’s just Mom and me. She’s been holding everything together — the house, the business, herself and somehow still finds the strength to smile every morning. I admire her for that. Really, I do. But sometimes, it feels like she’s trying to be strong for both of us, and it just reminds me how much we lost. I guess that’s why I spend so much time behind the wheel. My car — a sleek black Mercedes that Dad got me before he passed and it feels like the one place where I can breathe. The engine’

I didn’t even wait for Kaelin to say anything when we got to his place. The second the door shut behind us, I spun around, heart pounding with leftover anger and something else I couldn’t quite name. “I’m done for the day,” I said, throwing my bag onto his couch. “No more classes. I’m serious.” He just leaned against the doorframe, watching me like I was putting on some kind of show. That smug calm of his only made it worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the hallway. his hand on my waist, the stupid smirk, and the way that new girl had looked at us. God, the look on her face. It was like she was already writing a story in her head about who we were to each other. I slammed the door shut harder than I needed to and turned to face him. “What was that, Kae?” I demanded, my voice echoing off the walls. “What the hell was that in the hallway?” He blinked at me, all wide-eyed and innocent like I was the crazy one here. “You fuckin’ pervert,” I snapped, heat rushing

“Dad, I’m home!” I called out, kicking off my shoes the second I stepped into the kitchen. The warm air hit me first—thick with the smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and freshly baked bread. My stomach growled instantly. Dad was at the stove, stirring something in a big silver pot like it was the most serious thing in the world. “Smells amazing,” I said, dropping my bag on the floor with a dull thud. He turned, his face lighting up. “Hey, sweetheart! How was your first full day at school?” He wrapped me up in a hug that smelled like aftershave and oregano. His hands were still warm from the steam rising off the pot. “It was great, actually!” I said, trying to keep the excitement from bursting out of me too soon but who was I kidding? “I met this guy—Ronald. He’s super friendly, funny, kinda sarcastic but in a good way. We sat together in class.” Dad smiled, still stirring, like he already saw where this was going. “So, you made a friend. That’s a good start.” “Yeah,” I said, sl

We got to school late. Again. And honestly? I’m blaming Kaelin for at least seventy percent of it. He took forever in the shower—like, I swear he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial and then we wasted another twenty minutes arguing about what he should wear. I was trying to get him out of his “all-black or nothing” phase. The guy dresses like he’s attending a funeral every day of his life, and while it’s kind of his thing, it also makes people avoid him like he’s cursed. “Just try something different for once,” I told him as he stood there, towel wrapped around his waist, dripping water on the carpet. He gave me that unimpressed stare, the one that says ‘you’re wasting your breath.’ “Color’s not my thing, Elian,” he said flatly. “Yeah, well, grief doesn’t have to be your aesthetic forever,” I muttered, tossing him a soft blue hoodie. To my surprise, he actually put it on. He still wore his black jeans, of course—baby steps—but seeing him in something brighter felt… differ