Chapter 2.

“Oh, shit! What is this idiot trying to do here?”

The shout cut through the air, sharp and mocking.

 Ethan’s heart hammered in his chest as he ran toward them—Mike and his cronies standing near the edge of the basketball court, their attention already drawn to him. 

A pit of dread formed in Ethan’s stomach, but he pushed through, his mind filled with nothing but the need to confront Melissa. 

She was there, among them, and something didn’t sit right. He had to know what was going on.

Before Ethan could take another step, one of Mike’s friends, a stocky guy with a cruel smile, stepped forward.

 His arm swung in a wide arc, slapping Ethan hard across the face. 

The sound of skin meeting skin rang out, and Ethan staggered to the side, his cheek stinging from the impact.

"You really want to ruin this for Mike?" the guy spat, stepping closer, his breath hot and sour.

 "I told you how important this confession was, you idiot! What the hell are you even doing here? You’re just a cleaner! You have no say in this!"

Ethan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to shake off the dizziness from the blow. 

His vision was blurry, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. But he couldn’t stop. 

He couldn’t let this happen. His gaze shifted to Melissa, standing by Mike’s side, her face frozen in shock. His heart sank.

"Why are you doing this?" Ethan managed to croak, his voice hoarse.

"You’re supposed to be my—"

Before he could finish, another punch landed in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

 He bent over, gasping for air, but there was no time to recover.

Kicks rained down on his legs, sending him sprawling to his knees in front of Mike, who stood with his arms crossed, a smug smile spreading across his face.

"You should have listened to the warning we gave you," Mike said, his voice dripping with disdain. 

"We wouldn’t have gone this far if you hadn’t been so damn stubborn."

Ethan’s body trembled, not from fear, but from the burning rage that was starting to boil inside him. 

He had tried to be reasonable. 

He had tried to just walk away, to let them have their moment. 

But now, with every hit, his pride was being shattered, and it hurt more than the physical pain.

One of Mike’s lackeys, the tall one with the greasy hair, bent down, grabbing Ethan’s neck and pushing his head to the ground. 

"Apologize to Mike and get the hell out of here, before we really destroy you, you stupid cleaner!" he snarled.

The taunting laughter from the group echoed around the court.

Ethan’s cheeks burned as he clenched his fists, but he didn’t let the tears fall. Not now. 

Not when he could still hold his dignity—though it was quickly slipping away.

Melissa’s eyes shifted uncomfortably, and for a moment, Ethan saw something in them—a flicker of fear. 

But it was quickly replaced by an air of indifference. She shifted on her feet, glancing away, clearly uncomfortable but refusing to step forward.

The group continued to mock him, calling him a beggar and a loser.

"Look at him," one of them laughed. "A poor idiot who thinks he’s better than everyone else!"

The mocking continued, but none of it hit harder than the silence from Melissa. Ethan turned his head toward her, his voice cracking as he asked.

“Melissa, what the hell are you doing here? You... you’re my girlfriend!” His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt.

The group erupted in laughter. One of Mike’s friends, a tall, lanky guy with a wicked grin, stepped forward.

“Dude, are you seriously asking that? A beautiful girl like Melissa, dating a loser like you?” He snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, man. You must be delusional.”

“Look at you, Idiot. Do you think Melissa would be with someone like you? You must be living in a fantasy world.” Another voice chimed in, louder and more mocking.

Melissa’s eyes widened in panic, but instead of rushing to Ethan’s defense, she sneered coldly. 

"You really think I’d date someone like you?” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain.

“You’re pathetic, Ethan. I’ve never even wanted you. I only talked to you because I felt sorry for you."

"I—" Ethan stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

 "But I... I spent all my money on you yesterday. I bought you that—" He broke off, his throat tightening. "I thought... I thought you liked me. I thought we had something."

Melissa gave him a pitying glance, her lips curling into a sneer.

"Please," she said, shaking her head. "You’re delusional. You really thought someone like me would be with someone like you?"

The words struck Ethan like a slap to the face. He had been working so hard, trying to prove to Melissa, and to himself, that he was more than just a cleaner, more than just a poor kid. 

He had spent weeks saving up, buying her a small gift, hoping it would show her how much he cared.

 But now it seemed like all of it had been in vain. He was nothing to her—just another fool in her eyes.

The laughter from Mike’s group grew louder, their voices filling the air. 

"Oh man, this is rich," one of Mike’s friends said, doubling over with laughter. "The poor kid thought he had a chance!"

"Didn’t you hear what she said, Ethan?" Mike taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

"She was just feeling sorry for you. Wake up from your dream, you pathetic idiot."

Melissa didn’t even look at Ethan. She turned her back on him, her expression indifferent.

 "Go," she said flatly. "You’re just embarrassing yourself."

Ethan’s eyes burned with fury. His breath came in shallow gasps, his body shaking as he stared at the people who had once meant something to him. 

The laughter and mocking words of the group rang in his ears, making his vision blur even more.

Mike, seeing Ethan’s distress, took full advantage of the moment. He walked up to Ethan, draping an arm around Melissa’s waist.

 He leaned in, planting a kiss on her lips—right in front of Ethan. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a power move meant to humiliate.

Suddenly, Mike reached into his pocket and tossed a few crumpled bills onto the ground in front of Ethan. 

"Here. Take this and go buy some new clothes," he sneered. "Maybe you can cover up that fucking body odor."

Ethan stared at the money on the ground, his mind blank. He was shaking, but his anger flared brighter than ever.

 Without thinking, he swung his fist and punched Mike square in the nose.

Mike stumbled backward, clutching his face in shock. Blood poured from his nose, dripping onto the court floor. The group gasped in disbelief, the laughter silenced by the sudden violence.

"You—" Mike roared, his face red with rage. "You dare to hit me?!"