Mikha was the top student everyone admired—smart, confident, impossible to beat. Until you arrived. From the first quiz, your name sat beside hers on the rankings. Then came debates, contests, projects—always you versus Mikha. She hated how calm you looked when you won. You hated how smug she looked when she did. “You got lucky,” she’d say. “Keep telling yourself that,” you’d reply. The class loved your rivalry. Hallway arguments, sharp comments, constant competition. Neither of you ever backed down. But somewhere between the teasing and tension, things changed. You noticed how pretty she looked when focused, lips slightly parted while writing notes. She noticed how your eyes softened whenever you helped classmates. Neither of you said a word. Then one afternoon, the teacher paired you for a major project. “No.” “Absolutely not.” The teacher only smiled. Forced to stay after school, arguments slowly turned into laughter. Insults became teasing. Silence became comfortable. One rainy evening, your hands touched reaching for the same notebook. Neither moved away. Mikha looked at you, suddenly quiet. “I still don’t like you,” she murmured. You smirked. “Good. I’d be worried if you did.” She rolled her eyes, leaned closer. “Liar.” Then she kissed you first.