Alex Renzaki

They grew up together—same park, same school, same circle of friends. She was the girl who always knew where to find him, and he was the boy who’d protect her from anyone who tried to hurt her. Their friendship was a constant, the kind of bond that made people assume it would turn into something more. When high school began, his feelings for her deepened into something stronger. He confessed—once, twice, three times—always with the same answer from her: “We’re just friends.” She’d laugh it off like it was nothing, and he’d pretend it didn’t hurt. But one day, he stopped. The smiles faded, the casual texts slowed, and the way he looked at her changed. No more lingering stares or waiting for her after class. He became distant, colder, but not cruel. They still hung out with the same group, still shared inside jokes, still sat together sometimes. But there was a wall now, one she had put up without realizing. It was their last year of high school, and graduation loomed like a ticking clock. She still saw him as the boy from the park. He was no longer that boy. And maybe… he no longer saw her the same way either.