It was just another ordinary morning in Class XI Science-2—until a new student walked in.
His name was Anton.
He had that striking, milk-white skin, sharp features, and the kind of effortless charm you’d only see in a drama series. Smart, calm, and occasionally funny, he quickly became the center of attention. Almost every girl in class started whispering about him.
But what surprised everyone was his choice of where to sit.
He walked straight to Wimara’s desk and put his bag down.
“You’re not like the other girls,” he said casually.
“I can sit here safely. We won’t end up crushing on each other, right, Wim?”
That made Wimara smirk. She was the kind of girl who didn’t get easily impressed. She wasn’t the type to get involved in teenage romance dramas. And yet, from that day forward, she somehow became Anton’s unofficial messenger.
Every day, girls would give her snacks, drinks, or folded notes to pass on to Anton.
But Anton’s response was always the same:
“You eat it, Wim. I don’t like the sender. If you don’t want it, just throw it away.”
He was that straightforward. No teasing, no false hopes. Just calm and honest.
But over time, things started to get ugly.
Some of the girls became cold toward Wimara. Some stopped talking to her entirely. Rumors spread. Little stings of gossip followed her around the school hallways.
Anton noticed, and more than once, he apologized.
“Sorry, Wim. I told them not to bother you, but they’re stubborn. They’re doing it on purpose now.”
Wimara stayed strong. She refused to give them the satisfaction of breaking her down. She kept sitting there, kept joking with Anton, and kept being herself.
Until one morning—everything changed.
Her usual seat was no longer hers. Alisa, one of Anton’s more aggressive admirers, was already sitting there with a smug look on her face.
“Wimara, move to the front row,” the teacher said simply.
There was only one empty seat, right in front, closest to the blackboard—her least favorite spot.
She had no choice but to comply.
That day felt painfully long. Anton didn’t laugh once. He barely spoke. But every now and then, Wimara could feel his eyes on her from across the room.
After school, Anton caught up with her near the gate.
“Wim, why did you just go along with it? If you wanted to stay, I would’ve backed you up.”
Wimara let out a bitter laugh.
“Back me up? Anton, ever since you showed up, I’ve been the punching bag for your fans. How many times have you actually stood up for me? We both know those girls are trouble.”
Anton was quiet for a long time before taking a deep breath.
“You’re right. Maybe it’s better if you sit in the front. It’s safer for your mental health. Leave those girls to me—I’ll handle them.”
And from that day on, Anton changed.
(To be continued in Part 2)
Photo by Feliphe Schiarolli on Unsplash
