STARMOTE

I was a studious guy. A nerd, you could say.
(Was. Not anymore.)

But not the kind of nerd you feel sorry for.
Not the underdog who somehow gets the girl.

No.

I was the pampered prince in those Disney stories—the one who looks like the villain, the one who’s supposed to lose to the underdog.Except… this time, the prince got the girl.In 10th grade, I scored nearly 92%. School topper. Everything was on track.

And then I started running behind her.Slowly, everything went downhill.At first, my parents were okay with it. They even asked her name, wanted to see her photo. They were… happy for me.Then came the half-yearly exams.I failed my maths test.

My mom was furious. And in that moment of anger, she said something that didn’t just hurt—it stayed.I have an elder brother and a younger sister. They always wanted a daughter after my brother. I was… the mistake in between.She said,
“When we knew it was a boy, we tried to abort. Somehow you survived. And now you’re a menace.”

Something broke that day.I had always wanted to be their favorite.
That stupid, quiet need you don’t even admit to yourself.And in that same teenage stupidity, I made a decision.

I didn’t even tell her myself.I asked one of my friends to call her and say,
“He’s breaking up with you. He’s sorry for hurting you.”I waited.

My friend told me she cried. Asked why.
Then said, “It’s okay,” and cut the call.

That was it.After that, I stopped walking her home.
She even came to my classroom once, trying to start a conversation.I avoided her.I told myself I needed to focus. Study. Fix things.My dad bought me a new FZ bike.
On paper, everything was getting better.But I was just… walking around like nothing inside me was alive.

Somehow, I passed. 87%.

And then—because apparently I hadn’t done enough damage—I tried to go back.Yeah. I know.She had blocked me everywhere. Social media, calls—everything.
She even distanced herself from mutual friends. There was no way back.

I joined college.That’s when the guilt really settled in.I was the one who asked her to love me.I was the one who chased her.And I was also the one who left—without even giving her a proper goodbye.

I didn’t even give her closure.

For three years, that stayed with me.I couldn’t make new friends.
I built this version of myself—quiet, distant, like I didn’t believe in love or girls or anything like that.

Something like that Mounam Pesiyathe Suriya phase.

But it wasn’t style.It was avoidance.

Some days, I lied to my parents and went to stand outside her college gate—just to see her once.Most days, I got chased away by security.

One day, one of them stopped me, asked my story.
He felt bad. But he was also angry.

I think that was fair.Much later, I saw her wedding photos on social media.
A mutual friend had posted them.That’s when it hit differently.

Not like heartbreak.More like… something had closed permanently.Since then, I’ve been careful.Maybe too careful.

Whenever someone tries to get close, something in me pulls back.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just enough to keep a distance.

Like I already know how it ends.