The car smells like leather and luxury.

  It hums softly beneath me, gliding through streets that look too clean to be real, the kind of roads that lead to places people brag about sending their children to. I sit in the backseat, fingers loosely curled around my bag strap, watching the city blur past the tinted window like a movie I never auditioned for but somehow landed a role in anyway.

  Josephine High Public School.

  The name alone carries weight. The kind that presses down on your chest until breathing becomes a conscious effort. Everyone knows it-the school. For the elite. For prodigies, heirs, overachievers, and legacies. For the children of people who already decided what success should look like and then sculpted their kids to fit that image.

  And now, apparently, for me.

  My first day.

  Crowds have never liked me, and I've never liked them back. Too many bodies, too many voices, too many eyes that linger a second longer than necessary. School, in general, has always been... exhausting. Not because of the studying-I can manage books and numbers and plans just fine-but because of the people. The noise. The unspoken rules. The constant performance of being normal.

  I exhale slowly, my reflection faint in the glass. I look composed. Calm. That's what people usually see first.

  They never see the tired underneath.

  Family pressure is a strange thing. It doesn't always shout. Sometimes it smiles at you across a dinner table, slides expectations onto your plate along with food, and asks if you're grateful. Sometimes it pats your shoulder and says, This is for your own good, while tightening the leash another notch.

  Business management, though-that part is real. I actually like it. Strategies, systems, the way decisions ripple outward and change outcomes. It makes sense. It's structured. Predictable in the best way. I enjoy working in that line, genuinely.

  What I hate is how every step of it has already been planned by someone else.

  Which subjects to take. Which competitions to enter. Which colleges to aim for. Which future version of me is acceptable.

  There's no room to stumble. No room to pause. Definitely no room to say, I'm tired.

  The car slows.

  "Here we are," the driver says, polite, professional, detached.

  I nod and step out, the air immediately heavier, louder. The main gate of Josaphin towers ahead-iron and stone and reputation. Students stream in clusters, uniforms pristine, laughter sharp and bright. Conversations overlap, collide, echo.

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  And then it happens.

  The looks.

  I feel them before I fully register them. Heads turning. Eyes following. Some curious, some impressed, some calculating. Admiration. Envy. Assessment. Like I'm a stock they're considering investing in.

  I hate it.

  I pull my shoulders in slightly, instinctively, even though I know it won't make me invisible. Whether I'm tall or not, well-built or not, it doesn't matter. Visibility isn't about height. It's about being noticed. And I've always wanted the opposite.

  To pass through unnoticed. Unclaimed.

  I walk through the gate anyway.

  Inside, the notice board is already crowded, students scanning for names and room numbers, voices rising in complaint or relief. I wait at the edge, counting my breaths, then step forward when there's space.

  Found it.

  Classroom number memorized. Floor 1, room.no 106.

  I move quickly, down the corridors that smell faintly of polish and new beginnings. The classroom door stands in front of me,I hesitate for half a second-just enough time for doubt to try and wedge itself in-then reach for the handle.

  The door opens.

  And for the first time that morning, something in my chest loosens.

  Kaiden Valentino is impossible to miss. He's practically vibrating with energy, slouched in his seat like rules are suggestions and life is a game he's winning. He's been a Rebel since his childhood ,a breath of relief in my rather boring life. He is also pretty well-known as a matter of fact. Heir of the great Valentine's and also a Dominant Apex. The moment his eyes land on me, his face lights up.

  "Elijah!" he waves like we haven't seen each other in years instead of... what, a few weeks?

  Beside him sits John Reo, calmer, composed, his smile, genuine. Expected from an aspiring Lawyer for the 'Elite' if u ask me. He doesn't wave. He just nods, like he always does, like he's saying, Yeah. You're here. Good.

  My two constants, childhood friends, who are also the two things I am truly greatful to my family for, Family Friends and companions.

  The kind you don't have to explain yourself to. The kind who see you as a person.

  I walk over, and give them a small smile, paired with a nod. It's all I can manage. Words feel stuck somewhere between my chest and throat, tangled in everything I haven't processed yet.

  Kaiden doesn't seem to notice-or maybe he does and chooses not to comment. He never pushes when it matters. Jhon shifts slightly to make room, grounding in his quiet presence.

  I sit.

  The noise of the room fades just a little.

  I'm still exhausted. Still weighed down by the future pressing in on me from all sides. Still aware that this place will demand things from me I'm not sure I can give without losing pieces of myself.

  But for now, I'm not alone.

  And maybe that's enough-for now.

  Because perception is a strange thing. People will see what they want when they look at me: privilege, potential, polish.

  They won't see me. I'll make sure they don't, as I always did.