THE BOY I WAS BORN TO HATE

The first time Adrian Vale humiliated me, he did it in front of two hundred people. The second time, he did it without saying a single word. He simply looked at me with those cold, unreadable eyes, as if I were something he had found on the bottom of his expensive shoes. And somehow, that was worse. "Mr. Cruz?" I blinked, dragging myself out of my thoughts. Professor Dela Torre stood at the front of the lecture hall, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. Beside her, the projector displayed a research proposal I had spent three sleepless nights preparing. "Would you care to explain why your conclusion contradicts the data presented in your second section?" A few students exchanged glances. Someone in the back snickered. I looked at the screen. Then at the professor. Then, unfortunately, at Adrian Vale. He sat two rows ahead of me, leaning back in his chair with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never experienced the pleasure of having his electricity disconnected because his family couldn't pay the bill. His black hair was neatly styled. His white shirt looked freshly pressed. Even his expression seemed expensive. He was watching me. Of course he was. Adrian never missed an opportunity to witness my suffering. "The conclusion doesn't contradict the data, Professor," I answered, standing up. "It challenges the interpretation of it." Professor Dela Torre raised an eyebrow. "Then perhaps you can clarify your interpretation." I explained my reasoning, pointing out the variables I believed the original analysis had overlooked. My voice remained steady, even though my palms were beginning to sweat. I wasn't stupid. I knew my research. What I didn't have was the luxury of making mistakes. Other students could afford to fail a presentation and laugh about it afterward over coffee. I couldn't. Every grade mattered. Every scholarship requirement mattered. One bad semester could mean losing the only thing keeping me in this university. When I finished, the room fell silent. For one beautiful second, I thought I had gotten away with it. Then Adrian raised his hand. I closed my eyes. Of course. "Your argument is interesting, Cruz," he said. I hated the way he pronounced my surname. Calmly. Smoothly. Like he was tasting something he already knew he disliked. "But you're assuming the variables remain independent throughout the entire study. They don't." He stood and walked toward the projector. Without asking permission, he took the remote from the desk and displayed a section of my research. He pointed at one of my calculations. "This value changes under the second condition. If you account for that, your conclusion becomes unreliable." The room grew quieter. I stared at the screen. He was right about the calculation. Not the entire argument, but enough to make my presentation look careless. I wanted to throw something at his head. Instead, I smiled. "Thank you, Vale. That's a very impressive observation. Did your father buy it for you, or did you learn it yourself?" A few students gasped. Someone laughed. Adrian slowly turned toward me. There it was. The smallest crack in his perfect expression. "Neither," he replied. "I earned it." "Must be nice." "What is?" "Having everything handed to you and still being convinced you've earned it." The professor cleared her throat before either of us could continue. "Enough. Mr. Cruz, revise the calculation. Mr. Vale, thank you for your contribution." Adrian returned to his seat. As he passed me, he leaned close enough that nobody else could hear him. "You're still making the same mistake." I looked straight ahead. "And you're still obsessed with correcting me." He paused. For a moment, I thought he might answer. Instead, he whispered, "You have no idea." Then he walked away. I stood there, staring at the back of his head, wondering how one person could make me want to punch a wall and disappear from the planet at the same time. I had hated Adrian Vale for three years. I saw no reason to stop now. By lunchtime, my presentation had become the unofficial entertainment of Blackthorn University. Not because of my research. Because of the argument. Someone had already posted a clip of my exchange with Adrian on the campus confession page. The caption read: VALE VS. CRUZ: ROUND ONE. PLACE YOUR BETS. I stared at the post while standing in line at the cafeteria. "Congratulations," Soren Lim said beside me. "You're famous." "I'd rather be dead." "That's dramatic." "That's financially realistic." Soren laughed and stole a piece of bread from my tray. He had been my closest friend since my first semester at Blackthorn. He was the kind of person who could talk to anyone, remember everyone's birthday, and somehow convince professors to extend deadlines without looking like he was begging for his life. I didn't understand how he did it. Probably because he had a functioning personality. Unlike me. "So," he said, chewing. "You and Vale." I gave him a look. "Finish that sentence and I'll throw you into traffic." "Relax. I'm just saying, the tension between you two is insane." "It's called mutual hatred." "Sure." "Soren." "What?" "Stop smiling like that." He raised both hands. "Fine. But for someone who claims to hate him, you spend a suspicious amount of time looking at him." I nearly choked on my water. "I look at him because he's always there." "He's handsome, though." "He's a walking trust fund with emotional constipation." "That wasn't a denial." I kicked his shoe under the table. He laughed harder. For a few minutes, things felt normal. Then my phone vibrated. An email notification appeared on the screen. BLACKTHORN UNIVERSITY: FINAL-YEAR FELLOWSHIP ANNOUNCEMENT I opened it immediately. The fellowship was the reason I had chosen Blackthorn despite its ridiculous tuition fees and its population of students who treated designer bags like basic necessities. The award covered postgraduate tuition, accommodation assistance, and a research grant. Winning it would mean I could stop taking extra shifts at the convenience store and focus on graduating. More importantly, it would give me a chance to help my family. My brother had once been the brightest student in our household. Before the scandal, before the disciplinary hearing, before everyone decided he was a liar, he had been the person I wanted to become. Now, his name was something my family avoided saying at dinner. I had promised myself I would finish what he started. I opened the announcement. The finalists would be selected based on academic performance, research quality, leadership, and a public defense before the university panel. The application deadline was in two weeks. I scrolled to the list of eligible candidates. My name appeared near the top. For the first time that day, I smiled. Then I saw the name directly above mine. ADRIAN VALE. My smile disappeared. "You're kidding me." Soren leaned over my shoulder. "Oh, this is going to be entertaining." "I am going to win." "I know." "I don't care if I have to study until my eyes fall out. I don't care if I have to sell my organs on the internet." "Please don't sell your organs." "I am going to beat him." Soren patted my shoulder. "That's the spirit." I looked at Adrian's name again. He had everything. Money, connections, a family whose name opened doors before he even reached them. I had a secondhand laptop, a part-time job, and a brother whose reputation had been destroyed by people who would never understand what it meant to lose everything. I wasn't going to let Adrian take this from me. Not this time. I found him outside the university library at four in the afternoon. He stood beneath the stone archway, speaking to two students from the research department. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a silver watch that probably cost more than my family's monthly expenses. I waited until the other students left. "Vale." He looked at me. "Cruz." I hated how easily he said my name. "We need to talk." "Do we?" "About the fellowship." His expression barely changed. "What about it?" "I'm going to win." He glanced at me, then down at the folder in my hands. "Congratulations on your confidence." "Don't do that." "Do what?" "Act like everything is a joke because you've already decided you're going to win." He tilted his head. "Would you prefer that I pretend I don't want it?" "No. I'd prefer that you admit you have an unfair advantage." "Because my family has money?" "Because your family has influence. Because your father sits on boards and funds buildings and probably knows the people judging us. Because you can make one phone call and get opportunities other people spend their entire lives chasing." For the first time, Adrian looked genuinely irritated. "You think I want my father involved in my life?" I laughed without humor. "Must be difficult, having someone pay for everything." His jaw tightened. "You know nothing about my life." "And you know nothing about mine." We stared at each other. The space between us felt smaller than it should have. I could smell his cologne, something clean and expensive that made me irrationally angry because even his scent seemed better funded than my entire existence. Adrian's gaze dropped briefly to my hands. I followed it. My fingers were gripping the folder so tightly that the edges had bent. "You're shaking," he said. I immediately loosened my grip. "I'm angry." "I can see that." "Then stop looking at me." "Make me." My mouth opened. Nothing came out. He looked almost amused. Almost. Then his expression changed. It happened so quickly that I might have imagined it. The amusement disappeared, replaced by something heavier. Something that looked dangerously close to sadness. "Don't enter the fellowship just to beat me, Elian." I froze. He had never called me by my first name before. "Excuse me?" "If you want the award, apply because you deserve it. Not because you think winning will make what happened to your brother hurt less." The world seemed to stop. I took one step toward him. "Don't you dare talk about my brother." His face hardened. "I wasn't trying to—" "You don't get to say his name. You don't get to pretend you understand what happened to him. You don't get to stand there and act like you know anything about what my family went through." People were beginning to look in our direction. I didn't care. "You're the reason he lost everything." Adrian went completely still. For one second, he looked as if I had struck him. Then he said quietly, "You still believe that." I laughed bitterly. "I don't believe it. I know it." He looked away. The silence that followed was worse than any argument we had ever had. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost too soft to hear. "Then maybe you should ask your brother what really happened." I stared at him. "What?" Adrian looked back at me. "Ask him why he stopped answering your calls." My chest tightened. "What the hell are you talking about?" He stepped closer. For once, he wasn't looking at me like I was an inconvenience. He was looking at me like he was afraid. "Stay away from this fellowship, Elian." I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. Instead, I whispered, "You don't get to tell me what to do." "I know." "Then stop trying." He swallowed. "Because if you keep digging into what happened three years ago, you're going to find something you won't be able to forgive." I stared at him, searching his face for the familiar arrogance, the smugness, the cruelty I had spent years learning to recognize. I found none of it. Only fear. And somehow, that frightened me more than his hatred ever had. "You're threatening me?" "No." "Then what are you doing?" Adrian looked at me for a long moment. "I'm trying to give you a chance to walk away before it's too late." I stepped back. "Go to hell, Vale." His expression barely moved. "I've been there for three years." I left before he could say anything else. I didn't look back. I told myself the strange ache in my chest was anger. I told myself I didn't care why he looked so broken when he mentioned my brother. And I told myself that whatever secret Adrian Vale was hiding, I would uncover it. Even if it destroyed him. Even if it destroyed me. It was nearly midnight when I returned to my apartment. My mother was asleep in the bedroom. The television played quietly in the living room, and the kitchen light flickered whenever the refrigerator started running. I dropped my bag beside the table and opened my laptop. I had an application to finish, research to revise, and a rival to defeat. There was no time to think about Adrian. I checked my email. A new message sat at the top of my inbox. No sender name. No subject. Just one attachment. My fingers hovered over the trackpad. I opened it. The photograph showed two men standing outside an office building. One was younger, wearing the same university jacket my brother had worn during his final semester at Blackthorn. The other was Adrian Vale. They were standing close together. My brother was handing him an envelope. I stared at the photograph until my eyes began to hurt. Then I noticed the date printed in the corner. Three years ago. The exact week my brother was accused of leaking confidential research. My phone vibrated. An unknown number. I almost ignored it. Then another message appeared. You want to know why Adrian Vale lied about your brother? My heartbeat became painfully loud. A second message followed. Ask him what was inside that envelope. I stared at the screen, my fingers turning cold. Then the final message arrived. And whatever you do, Elian, don't fall in love with him. I stopped breathing. Because beneath the message was a photograph taken only hours earlier. Adrian and I stood outside the library. He was looking at me. I was looking at him. And from the angle of the photograph, whoever had taken it had been standing close enough to hear every word we said. Someone had been watching us. Someone knew about my brother. Someone knew about Adrian. And now, somehow, someone knew that the boy I hated was beginning to become something far more dangerous than an enemy. He was becoming a question I couldn't stop asking.