My Whole Youth

In a lavish mansion adorned with gold and precious stones on the outskirts of the city, no one paid attention to its opulence anymore. All focus was drawn instead to the pitiful voice of a distinguished man kneeling guiltily on the edge of the living room, his forehead nearly brushing the piano keys. “Darling, I’m sorry. I’ve reflected on my mistake for two hours already. Please, don’t be angry with me anymore—just forgive me,” Damien Carter pleaded, casting a subtle wink at his son. “Please, Mommy,” the little boy chimed in, tugging on Clara Evans’s hand with a pout. “Daddy knows he was wrong. Can you let him stand now?” Clara’s resolve melted the moment she saw her son’s wide, pleading eyes. With a sigh, she lifted him into her arms, her tone indulgent yet weary. “So Daddy knows his mistake, does he? Then maybe we won’t punish Daddy… we’ll punish you instead. Tell me, little man, why does Mommy’s new white purse suddenly have a bright green dinosaur sticker on it?” At her words, the child froze, his guilty conscience written all over his face. He scrambled from her lap, dashed up the stairs, and called back, “Mommy, you punish Daddy instead! I have homework to do!” Moments later, his tiny voice echoed again from above. “But Mommy—go easy on Daddy, okay? He promised to buy me a toy tomorrow!” The sound of a door slamming followed, leaving Clara laughing helplessly. Her laughter quickly faded. She turned toward her husband, her expression firm as she approached. “Think carefully before you answer. Do you truly know what you did wrong?” “I… I do,” Damien stammered, his voice low and contrite, like a child caught misbehaving. “I’ll listen from now on. Please forgive me.” “You’ve said those words how many times this month already?” Her voice sharpened. “I don’t forbid you drinks or cigarettes—you have to socialize, I understand. But skipping meals despite your stomach condition? Again and again? And now you even collude with your assistant to lie to me?” “I’m sorry. Truly. If I make the same mistake again, you can punish me however you see fit,” he said desperately. “But don’t be angry anymore. I’ve been kneeling here for more than two hours.” Clara’s heart ached even as anger flared. She had prepared his lunches every day, arranging for his assistant to deliver them, only to discover he’d tricked her. Remembering his last hospitalization for the same illness, her voice rose: “Damien Carter! Do you realize this is the second time you’ve landed in the hospital because of your stomach? Do you know how terrified I was—how even the doctor scolded me for neglecting you?” He hung his head in shame, unable to argue. Clara’s breath came unevenly, her anger blurring her vision. Just then, a sharp voice rang from the entryway. “You foolish boy! What did you do this time to upset your wife? Don’t you know she’s pregnant?” Mrs. Carter’s heels clicked against the floor as she swept into the room. Seeing her son kneeling while Clara loomed above him, she chuckled, nostalgia softening her features. “Some things never change. Married or not, you still fear her the same way you did back in school,” she teased. Damien flushed darkly, pouting like a scolded child. “Mother! Instead of defending me, you laugh at me.” Settling onto the sofa with her teacup, Mrs. Carter replied lightly, “You never listened to me anyway. Only Clara could ever tame that stubborn streak of yours. So endure it, my dear son.” With that, she vanished upstairs, leaving her son speechless. Her words stirred Clara’s own memories. Indeed, nothing had changed—he made mistakes, she punished, and he begged for forgiveness. The thought softened her mood, and she reached out as if to help him rise. But though his legs ached from kneeling, Damien straightened on his own, refusing to lean on her while she carried their unborn child. Once seated together on the sofa, Clara spoke gently yet firmly. “You must treasure your health, Damien. Do you hear me?” “Yes, yes, I promise,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms, burying his face against her neck to inhale the sweetness of her scent. She wriggled in his embrace, cheeks warming. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you yet. You and Assistant Cole still lied to me.” “Alright, alright, no tricks,” Damien grinned. “We’ll just cuddle and watch TV. Nothing more.” Yet as they sat entwined, soft sighs escaped the living room, carrying a tenderness only lovers could know. From the staircase, Mrs. Carter looked down with misted eyes. “That foolish boy, and that beautiful vice monitor from all those years ago… how quickly time has flown. More than a decade together already, and still the same.” The prestigious Crestwood High School, renowned for its gifted program, had just welcomed a new cohort of students. Inside the brightest class of the grade, the homeroom teacher stood at the front, glasses perched neatly on her nose, her voice brisk and authoritative. “As the only elite class in this year’s intake, we will be adopting the ‘study partner’ model. Each of you will be paired with another student to support one another in your studies and aim for the highest achievements possible.” She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “Pairs will be determined based on your entrance exam rankings. Once your partner is assigned, you’ll be divided into four sections of the classroom, and seated side by side according to both order and height.” No sooner had she finished than the room filled with groans and sighs of dismay. Somewhere amidst the chatter, a small voice complained, barely above a whisper: “It was already hard enough to pass the entrance exam into this program, and now I have to be stuck with a partner too? Please let me be paired with someone smart enough to carry my grades…” The wish hadn’t even faded when a teasing voice rose from the back, light and playful rather than malicious. “Oh, come on, Lady Clara Evans. You’re the entrance exam’s top scorer. If even you’re complaining, how are the rest of us supposed to survive?” The words drew a wave of curious glances and murmurs across the room—Clara’s name carried weight. She had been the top scholar, the benchmark everyone else compared themselves against. Her cheeks flushed with both irritation and embarrassment. She snapped, “Damien Carter!” Damien only grinned, unbothered. “What’s wrong? Did I say anything untrue, Miss Top Scholar?” Before she could lash out further, he darted for the back row with boyish mischief. Clara could only laugh helplessly, anger dissolving into amusement. “Oh, you’d better run. If I catch you later, Damien Carter, you’re finished!” Just then, the teacher’s voice cut through. “Clara Evans will be paired with… Damien Carter. The two of you will sit together at the back of Section Four.” Clara froze. “Do either of you have any objections?” “Teacher, I—” she began, but was cut off immediately. “Excellent. Since there are no objections, I expect Clara to guide Damien with diligence.” “But—” “One more thing,” the teacher added, her tone matter-of-fact. “Each pair’s performance will be tied together. Your study partner’s results will affect not only academic standing but also conduct evaluations. So I hope you’ll both help each other wholeheartedly.” Before Clara could protest again, the teacher dismissed herself to fetch gym uniforms. “In the meantime, everyone may go to your assigned seats and start getting acquainted with your partner.” The classroom erupted once more, but Clara slumped against her desk, muttering bitterly under her breath. “Of all people… Why couldn’t I have been paired with another high scorer? Instead, I get stuck with the one who ranked lowest. My life is doomed.” Damien, overhearing, smirked and leaned lazily against his chair. From the next row, her best friend chimed in cheerfully, trying to console her. “Hey, ranking at the bottom isn’t so bad. At least your partner happens to be the new campus heartthrob. I’ve seen half the school’s confession board flooded with people begging for Damien Carter’s contact info.” Clara gave her a sharp look. “What’s the use of a heartthrob who doesn’t study? I heard he’s stubborn, always compared unfavorably to his overachieving older brother, and decided to rebel by not caring about schoolwork at all.” She sighed, more thoughtful now. “I know being compared to someone else is painful—but it doesn’t excuse laziness.” Her friend only laughed, waving her hands. “Don’t look at me like that! I wasn’t defending him. I just thought maybe you’d like to know why he is the way he is. Whether you choose to tolerate him… well, that’s up to you, Lady Clara.” Clara rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that. If he shows any hint of effort, I might consider not strangling him by the end of the semester.” “Now that’s the spirit,” her friend teased, sticking her tongue out before hopping over to her seat. “Oh, by the way, I’m sitting right in front of you! Guess you can’t get rid of me even if you wanted to.” Clara groaned, then glanced up—only to find her light blocked by a tall shadow. Standing before her desk, with a casual slouch and a faintly amused expression, was none other than Damien Carter himself. For a moment, Clara felt her heart skip against her will. But she quickly masked it with a scowl. So this was how it began—her reluctant partnership with the most troublesome boy in Crestwood High.