MARKED BY THE ENEMY

THE WEIGHT OF PERFECTION

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Chapter Twenty – The Weight of Perfection

William’s POV

The cafeteria that day was a stage, and I was just another spectator.

From across the room, I’d seen it unfold—the way Kika stormed up, eyes sharp and cruel, her voice carrying poison across the tables. The way Ashley’s shoulders had tensed, her lips parting but unable to form a defense. And then… Devin.

I didn’t expect him to stand. I didn’t expect him to speak.

But when he did, every word cut through me as much as it cut through Kika.

His rejection of her was brutal, final. His defense of Ashley was firm, absolute. And the way he reached for her hand afterward, like it belonged there, like it had always belonged there—God, that was the part that sank into my chest and refused to let go.

I should have felt relief. Relief that someone finally stood up for her, that Ashley didn’t have to carry humiliation on her own. I should have felt grateful that Devin, of all people, shut Kika down in front of everyone.

But I didn’t.

I felt jealous.

Bitterly, shamefully jealous.

Because the truth I never said aloud—the truth I buried so deep even Lia couldn’t dig it out—was that I loved her. Not just as my best friend. Not just as the girl I grew up alongside. I loved her in a way that clawed at me every time she smiled at someone else, every time she brushed her hair behind her ear and didn’t know how beautiful she looked doing it.

And watching Devin claim her—because that’s what it was, even if he used the words just friends—was like being gutted while smiling through it.

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The rest of the day blurred. The whispers, the laughter, the rumors—they all faded behind the noise in my head. By the time I got home, my smile was plastered on like a mask, just as it always was when I crossed the threshold of our house.

“William,” my mother called from the kitchen, voice crisp and sharp, “don’t forget your piano practice. The recital is in two weeks.”

“Of course,” I said automatically, slipping off my shoes, my tone perfect, obedient.

My father’s footsteps echoed down the hall. He barely looked at me, just handed me the mail and murmured, “Top of your class again this semester, I trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

Always yes. Always perfect.

That was me—the golden child. The boy who never disappointed. The boy who carried his family’s pride on his shoulders like armor, even when it weighed him down until his knees shook. Straight A’s. Polite smiles. Polished manners. Every award polished and displayed in the glass cabinet in the living room.

But none of them knew the truth.

None of them knew how it felt to choke on expectations every single day. How the pressure of perfection made it hard to breathe. How sometimes, late at night, I stared at the ceiling and wondered what it would feel like to let myself fail—just once.

And none of them knew how much it hurt to watch the one person who made it all bearable slip further and further out of reach.

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Ashley was my safe place. She always had been. When I was twelve and overwhelmed with tournaments and speeches, she was the one who sneaked me snacks and whispered jokes that made me laugh until I forgot to be nervous. When I was fifteen and my parents grounded me for getting a 93 instead of a 95, she was the one who sat outside my window and threw pebbles at the glass until I smiled again.

She was supposed to be mine.

Not in the sense of ownership—I wasn’t that selfish—but in the sense that my heart had quietly built its home around her.

And now? Now Devin was tearing that home apart brick by brick, without even realizing it.

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The piano keys blurred under my fingers that evening. I played the right notes, I always did, but the music was empty. My mother praised me from the kitchen without even looking up, as if perfection was expected, not admired.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shatter the illusion.

Instead, I played louder.

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At school the next day, the whispers hadn’t died down. If anything, they’d grown. “Did you see how Devin shut Kika down?” “Ashley must be so lucky.” “Do you think they’re dating?”

Each word was a thorn pressing deeper into my skin.

Lia noticed, of course. She always noticed. She nudged me at our lockers, her eyes searching mine. “You okay?”

I forced a smile. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her frown told me she didn’t believe it, but she let it go. For now.

But as we walked to class, I saw Ashley ahead, her head bent, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Devin wasn’t beside her this time, but it didn’t matter. The image of his hand in hers was burned into me.

I wanted to run to her. I wanted to tell her everything—that I loved her, that I’d always loved her, that Devin wasn’t right for her. That no one could protect her, care for her, understand her the way I could.

But then she turned, and her smile found me. Soft, tired, but still hers.

And the words died in my throat.

Because if I told her the truth, I’d risk everything. Our friendship. Her trust. The one part of my life that wasn’t dictated by perfection.

So I swallowed the truth like poison.

And told myself, again, that being her best friend was enough.

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But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

Not when the image of Devin’s hand in hers haunted me every time I closed my eyes.

Not when Kika’s cruel words replayed in my head, and I hated that Devin had been the one to shut them down instead of me.

Not when every smile, every laugh, every glance she gave him chipped away at the fragile cage I’d locked my heart in.

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And for the first time in my life—the golden child, the perfect son, the flawless friend—I wondered how much longer I could keep pretending.

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