PROLOGUE

Our perspective on love changes as we grow old and as we become a better version of ourselves. We may look at it as sweet, pure happiness, and pleasure. On the other hand, we may look at it as sadness, sacrifice, and suffering.

At a tender age, most of us don't ask much more than to be with someone we love, no matter the circumstances. Lucky are those in these shoes because not everyone gets to experience this at an early age.

Pure love is beautiful in every way; even it does not last too long. At least to someone who believes that beautiful memories are enough even if they don't end up with someone they love. But whether you end up with someone you care about, you are blessed to share the joy you have with someone you value.

It may be hard work to keep the love alive, but in the end, it's worth it. The reward is priceless.

CHAPTER 1

ANGELIQUE

Today is my first day of school as a junior high, where I have a new family. Our glass room, in minimalistic design, smells lavender, smells expensive, and flawlessly clean, unlike my former public school. However, it was clean but not this luxurious.

I'm freezing at a low room temperature, which I am not used to, we don't have air-conditioning in public schools and even at home. Even the cold temp in this world is not shared equally for the rich and poor.

"Go ahead, Ms. Carpio, introduce yourself," said the teacher.

My new classmates stare at me like I'm some sort of shit. I manage to hold my head high before I start to introduce myself. "Good morning, everyone," I start, but none of them respond. Instead, they stare at me with blank faces. "I'm your new classmate, my name is Angelique, but my friends call me Angel. I came from Davao City National High School..."

"Share about your family background," said the girl wearing quite heavy make-up for a student. Her voice had a hint of insults in it; even if I don't know this girl yet, I could tell by the way she looks at me that she's up for something nasty. She crosses her arms around her chest while raising an eyebrow as she looks at me.

Despite that, I am proud to introduce my mom. "I only have one person I call family; that's my mom. She raised me alone in our two-room apartment. I've never seen my dad since birth."

Halfway through my answer, little chuckles of girls in the third row reach my ears. As much as I want to throw punches on their ugly faces, I can't tarnish my reputation. I can't fail mama for doing such a reckless act. So, I ignored them. As I swiftly roam my sight around, the entire class echoes the laughter the girls have started except the one boy sitting on the rear left corner of the room. His eyes stick on the whiteboard, his face is emotionless. I could barely see his entire face as his curly hair covered it in half, but I could tell that he looked pleasing in the eye. If only he had put a smile on his lips, he could be one of those boys that girls run after.

"Quiet," said the class adviser sitting in the left corner. "Thank you, Ms. Carpio. You may sit down."

I show a brief smile in response and nod before leaving. As I made my way back to the last row where my chair was, I heard the same girl say, "Poor girl."

"Yeah, she doesn't belong here. Quite lost." The other one responds.

I extend my patience to avoid any trouble being a new student in Harper International School. Of course, as a scholar student, I couldn't mess up. I clench my hands into fists to alleviate the annoyance.

When I sit in my chair, I sneak a look on the left side to where the lonesome boy is sitting. His eyes dart on the whiteboard. I find him to be a pretty lonely boy who prefers to be with himself. Well, I could understand; I'd rather be by myself than deal with these toxic people in this room. Our teacher will be an exception, though, and this lonesome boy will be an exception as well, I think.

Later in our morning break, I grabbed my new book, 100 days without sunlight, that I thought of finishing this morning. But my stomach protests as it growls. And then I remembered that my morning breakfast was just a glass of milk. I didn't want to be late, so I just gulped a glass of milk before leaving the apartment, skipping my mom's cooking. However, it was hard not to eat mom's prepared breakfast. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath remembering mom's food. The aroma of the fried rice penetrates my nose like I am in front of our dining table. Her cooking is superb; she has a way of making the simple recipe a delicacy.

I'm left with no choice but to close the book as my stomach continues to growl. On my way to the canteen, the petite girl wearing heavy make-up with the three other girls stood in the hallway. I know this could happen, but I'm not afraid. I was preparing for this a long time ago. My legs didn't tremble as I held my head high, facing the petite girl. Her face is a few inches away from mine. I lower down a little to meet her eyes intently, glaring at me, which made me a little taller than her. She's probably 5' in height, lower than 2 inches from me.

"Hey, transferee," she starts, her breath fanning on my face as she speaks.

"What do you want?" I retorted.

Cassandra's face smug upon hearing my answer while the other girls giggle.

"The audacity," she says, raising an eyebrow. She raises a hand directed to my face, but my reflexes don't fail me. Instead, I am quick to grip her wrist as tight as I can. She cried in pain.

"Don't even think about brushing your hands on my skin. I will never allow you to. I'm not the kind you get to bully easily."

The petite girl startles for a moment before she pulls back her hand. I let go of it. Just when I thought she got my message right. She lifts her hand again, directing it on my face.

"Cassandra," said a boy from nowhere. His voice sent a message of conviction and anger.

The petite girl froze; her hand hadn't landed on my face yet. I shift my gaze behind me to where the voice came from. It was the lonesome boy. There's a distance between us, but I can tell that he is towering over me. He is thin but not skinny; his sad eyes dart on Cassandra. His long curly hair flows on his face covering half of it.

"Mad? What are you doing here?" Cassandra asks in her brittle voice.

"Cassy, don't do anything stupid. Not now."

"But Mad, she was the one who hurt me first," Cassy said, pouting her lips. Look," Cassy lifts her hand, showing her flush wrist. The mark of my hand was there.

"I've seen everything, Cassy. Stop being so childish and a bully." The boy said as he turned and left us.

I smug at Cassandra and her friends before them with their mouths falling open. Whether they were shocked at how I acted or Maddox, I don't mind. I love watching their tails between their legs.