Chapter 1

Everyone in school knew I was Brian Carter's biggest simp.

When he had a fever, I skipped class to take care of him.

When he got into a fight, I took the blame for him.

Everyone laughed at how pathetic I was, but I didn't care. I enjoyed it.

Then one day, his first love stood right in front of me.

"I hear you're my stand-in," she said. "But you aren't even fit to shine my shoes."

My eyes stung with tears. I looked at Brian, hoping he'd stand up for me.

But he frowned and handed me a tissue. "Wipe your tears. Don't freak her out."

I chuckled, grabbing the tissue from him and taking the umbrella my childhood sweetheart, Derek Shaw, handed me from behind.

Without sparing Brian another glance, I walked straight toward the black car waiting in the rain.

The door swung open, and a slender hand reached out, pulling me inside.

"Playing Cinderella for three years. Haven't you had enough fun?" Derek smirked, his voice indulgent and resigned.

*****

Everyone in school knew I was Brian's simp.

It was a cringey label, but I didn't mind.

At six o'clock on winter mornings, I stood in the cold wind outside the boys' dorm with fresh bread and milk.

The bread was from an old bakery downtown. Brian was picky and only ate that kind. I had to get up at five to wait in line.

Students passing by whispered among each other.

"Look, Nina Nolan's here again."

"She's so obsessed. When has Brian ever even looked at her?"

"Simps like her always end up with nothing."

I kept my head down, pretending not to hear.

My fingers were frozen stiff. I tucked the bread close to my chest, afraid it would freeze hard.

Brian came down at seven-thirty. He wore a black puffer jacket, his hair messy, with dark circles under his eyes.

Spotting me, he paused and frowned like he always did. "Why are you here again?"

"Here," I said, handing him the bread. "Freshly baked."

He didn't take it, brushing past me. "No appetite."

I hurried after him. "Eat something. You drank last night. An empty stomach's bad for you."

He paused and looked back. The winter sunlight cast a pale glow on his face. For a moment, I thought I saw a hint of softness in his eyes.

"Nina," he said, "What do you want from me?"

I tightened my grip on the bag and smiled, "Nothing. I just want to be good to you."

Brian looked at me for a moment, and then took the bread.

"Don't do this again," he said and walked away.

I stood there watching his back disappear toward the classroom building. My chest felt warm.

He'd said "don't do this again" countless times. But I still came, and he still took it.

That felt like progress, I guessed.

*****

At noon, Brian spiked a high fever.

The news broke after he passed out during PE.

I was in the cafeteria when I heard, and I dropped my fork and bolted out.

My best friend, Mia White, shouted after me, "Nina, have you lost your mind? We've got Mr. Wallace's class this afternoon."

Matthew Wallace was our school dean, and he was extremely peculiar.

Anyone who skipped his class would have to write a 5,000-word reflection and get their parents called.

But none of that mattered to me right now.

When I got to the infirmary, Brian was lying in bed with an IV, his face pale, lips chapped and dry.

The nurse said he needed to go to the hospital. His fever was way too high.

"I'll take him," I said.

The nurse knew me and knew I was "close" to Brian, so she nodded. "Alright, help him up. I'll call a car."

I bent down to support Brian. His hand was burning. When he leaned against me, I smelled faint laundry detergent and a little alcohol on his clothes.

"Why are you here?" he mumbled.

I said, "Don't talk. Save your energy."

He opened his eyes and looked at me. His gaze was complicated, like he wanted to say something but didn't.

After he got his IV at the hospital, I sat beside him.

The heating was strong in the room, and outside, sparrows were chirping.

Brian was asleep, but his brows stayed furrowed. Maybe he was caught in a bad dream.

I stared at his face for a long time.

He really was handsome. Those deep eyes, sharp nose, and thin lips made him look almost unreal.

They said people with thin lips were cold-hearted, but I didn't buy it. I believed it was all about choices.

Around three in the afternoon, Brian woke up.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's 3:20," I replied.

He pushed himself up and rubbed his temples. "You skipped class this afternoon?"

"Nah."

He was quiet for a moment, then suddenly said, "Nina, you're putting too much pressure on me."

I was stunned for a second. "What do you mean?"

"It's just..." He looked like he couldn't find the words. "You're always so nice to me, and I..."

"You don't have to feel pressured," I cut him off. "Being nice to you is my choice. It has nothing to do with you."

He looked up at me. There was something I couldn't understand in his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" he asked again.

I smiled and didn't answer.

*****

When I got back to school that night, Matthew was waiting for me in his office.

Sure enough, he made me write a 5,000-word reflection essay and call my parents to school.

My dad was on a business trip abroad. My mom wouldn't come.

I sat in Matthew's office writing the reflection. Halfway through, the door opened.

Brian walked in. His face was still pale, but his fever was gone.

"Mr. Wallace," he said, "Nina took me to the hospital this afternoon. She didn't skip on purpose. I'll take the punishment."

Matthew adjusted his glasses. "You'll take it? How?"

"I'll write the reflection and call my parents," Brian said calmly. "I told her to take me."

I stood up. "You don't need to—"

"Shut up," he shot me a look, then turned back to Matthew. "Is that okay?"

Matthew looked at him, then at me. Finally, he sighed, "Fine. Both of you leave. Don't do it again."

"Don't do it again," again.

I followed behind Brian out of the office, the moonlight stretching our shadows long across the ground.

"Thanks," I said.

He didn't look back. "I owe you."

I stared at his back and suddenly felt tears sting my eyes.

It wasn't because I was upset; it was because I was happy.

It was the first time he'd said he owed me.

So he remembered, didn't he?

*****

After that, things between Brian and me felt a little closer.

Sometimes he'd come to me for my notes. After evening study sessions, he'd wait for me to walk back to the dorm together.

We still didn't talk much, but I was more than satisfied.

Mia called me lovesick and hopeless.

I told her she didn't get it. Some things were worth waiting for.

Then came that day.

*****

It was Friday, and there were no classes that afternoon.

I was about to find Brian when a text from an unknown number popped up.

[Heard you're my stand-in. Come meet me at the playground.]

I stared at the message for a long time, my heart racing.

Stand-in? What did that mean?

I went to the playground.

Far away, I saw a girl standing there. She wore a white coat, long hair over her shoulders, looking like a painting in the winter sun.

As I got closer, I saw her face.

Instantly, I understood what "stand-in" meant.

My eyes and eyebrows looked like hers.

Or rather, I'd been copying hers.

Her name was Winona Lane.

She'd moved abroad in her senior year two years ago. She was the only girl Brian kept a photo of in his phone.

I'd snuck peeks at that photo hundreds of times. I'd fixed my bangs in the mirror over and over to make my features more like hers.

I thought no one knew.

And it was all because I liked Brian.

Winona looked me up and down. Finally, she laughed softly.

Her voice was melodious, with a hint of lazy sarcasm. "Is that all?"

She stepped closer. "I hear you're my stand-in. But honestly, you're not even fit to shine my shoes."

I stood frozen, my fingers gripping the hem of my clothes.

A stand-in?

I'd guessed it a hundred times. But hearing it out loud felt like a knife in my chest.

My voice shook. "Brian and I..."

"I know all about you two," Winona cut me off. "He told me everything on WhatsApp. Said you won't leave him alone, that he's annoyed. Said he feels sorry for you, so he can't say no."

She looked at me with pity. "You didn't think he liked you, did you?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Just then, I spotted someone walking over from the far side of the playground.

It was Brian.

In his black puffer jacket, he walked fast, like he was scared he'd miss something.

My heart jumped a little.

He would explain, right?

He would tell her it wasn't true.

Brian stopped in front of us. He looked at Winona first, and there was something I couldn't read in his eyes.

Then he looked at me, his brows furrowing. "Why are you here?"

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat.

Winona linked her arm through his and smiled, "I invited her. I wanted to see the girl who's been chasing you so hard everyone in school knows."

Brian's frown deepened as he looked at me.

Tears burned my eyes, but I forced myself not to let them fall.

I stared at him, desperate for him to say something, to tell me I wasn't a stand-in, that he'd liked me a little.

Even if it was a lie, I'd still want to hear it.

But he simply stood there, silent for what felt like forever.

Then he fished a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"Wipe your tears," he said quietly, sounding tired. "Don't freak her out."

The tears finally fell.

I took the tissue and squeezed it. Then I laughed.

So what Winona said was true.

I lifted my head and looked at him.

I'd watched that face for two years, believing that someday, it would smile at me.

"Brian," I whispered.

His eyes flickered.

I didn't say anything else.

Just then, footsteps came from behind me. A black umbrella opened over my head, blocking the sun.

An umbrella?

I looked up; the sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight.

A hand reached over my shoulder from behind.

Those slender fingers with distinct knuckles moved with careless laziness.

They gently took the tissue from my grip and dropped it on the ground.

"It's dirty. Don't keep it," a familiar voice rang beside my ear, faint with teasing and a hidden indulgence.

I didn't turn around, but I already knew who it was.

Brian's expression shifted instantly.

Winona froze, staring behind me, surprised.

"Let's go," the voice said.

That hand gripped my wrist, not forceful, but impossible to refuse.

I gave Brian one last look.

He stood in the sun, frowning, lips moving like he wanted to speak.

But I didn't wait.

I turned and followed that hand toward the black sedan outside the playground.

The sunlight was blinding, but there was an umbrella over me.

The car door swung open, and I was gently pulled inside.

Inside, the lighting was dim, the AC was blasting, and a faint sandalwood scent lingered in the air.

A face leaned close, a half-smile on his lips.

"Playing Cinderella for three years. Haven't you had enough fun?"