The story's male lead, Blake Sterling, had just woken up.

Blake was once the only light in my bleak life. He protected me, cherished me, and treated me like I was precious.

Everyone knew that Blake, the star captain of the school's hockey team, cared about me more than anyone else.

But then Blake discovered their story was just that—a story. Written in a book.

And the boy whose world once revolved around me decided he didn't want me anymore.

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1

A photo of Blake and me at our high school prom went viral on Instagram.

In the picture, Blake stood tall and striking, his jawline sharply defined. As he leaned in to kiss me, his sapphire-blue eyes were breathtaking. But this charming boy was holding a girl with a sprawling, port-wine stain birthmark across her cheek. The girl’s eyes were downcast, the angry red mark on her skin especially stark under the camera's flash.

Our stark contrast caught the eye of a reporter from the school paper.

The reporter shoved through the crowd, hungry for a story. Blake immediately shielded me behind him, his hand tightening around my waist as he blocked the camera flashes.

He stared directly into the lens, his gaze firm, and declared, "She's important to me. And while she's not my girlfriend yet, I plan on spending the whole summer changing that."

His sincerity was undeniable. The reporter stared, incredulous; after all, to anyone with eyes, Blake and I were an impossible match.

Noticing the reporter's doubt, Blake's smile was both doting and warm. "You might see flaws, but when I look at her, I see my whole world."

The boy in the photo was passionate and fearless, his gaze fixed on me with an almost reverent sincerity. Once published, the picture ignited a firestorm, and the internet went wild.

【OMG, young love is the sweetest. My faith in romance is restored.】

【Is this real-life 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder'? But this girl is just so plain.】

【That's our school's hockey captain and some scholarship kid. The guy's a legend, he just... has a very specific type.】

The online buzz was intense. If the Sterling family hadn't stepped in, using their PR team to pull the post to avoid overexposure, that photo likely would have stayed trending until the new school year.

After all, Blake was so perfect he could have stepped right out of a movie, utterly flawless. Compared to him, all I had to offer was a perfect report card.

How could someone like him ever fall for someone as broken as me?

I didn't know why Blake liked me either.

When I first started at this private high school, the birthmark on my face made me an instant target. Combined with my scholarship-kid status in a school full of legacies, I was the perfect punching bag for bullies. They stuck gum in my hair, locked me in lockers, and ganged up to mock me relentlessly. I thought about fighting back, but they were rich and powerful, and the teachers always turned a blind eye.

Until one day, for a laugh, they "accidentally" sent my lunch tray flying in the cafeteria.

The commotion caught the eye of Blake, who was just passing by.

He emerged from the crowd, frowning as he glanced our way. "If you want to screw around, do it somewhere else. You're blocking the path."

Sprawled on the floor and covered in food, any flicker of hope I’d felt was extinguished by his words. But then, our eyes met.

Blake's gaze lingered on my face for a second. His brow furrowed, and he strode right over to me.

"It's you?"

I didn't know Blake back then, but he seemed to recognize me instantly.

He knelt to check on me, but when his gaze fell upon the stains and crude drawings defacing my blazer, his temper snapped. He lunged, grabbing the lead bully by the collar. "Who the hell gave you permission to touch her!"

He yanked so hard the boy stumbled.

Blake's eyes were wild with fury. Without a second thought, he shoved the bully's face into a plate of spaghetti on a nearby table. The sudden violence stunned everyone—me, the bully's cronies—into silence. By the time we snapped out of it and pulled them apart, the bully was a pathetic, sauce-covered mess on the floor.

The incident blew up. The bully's father was on the school's board of directors, so even with the Sterling family's immense wealth, Blake was put on probation to appease them.

But from that day forward, no one dared to bully me again.

Blake and I started getting to know each other. Around me, he was gentle and considerate, a completely different person from the boy who had lost his temper in the cafeteria.

My family didn't have much money, so to save it, I often skipped breakfast, which was taking a toll on my health. When Blake found out, he started driving a longer route every morning just to pick me up, his car always stocked with warm milk and a sandwich.

Because of my birthmark, I was too self-conscious to speak up in class and passed on opportunities to join academic competitions. It was Blake who fought for me to have another chance, who looked me in the eye and told me, again and again, that I was brilliant.

Blake’s kindness was woven into every detail of my life. He saw my timidity and my low self-esteem, my shame and my vulnerability, and yet he still had the courage to tear down every barrier to protect and cherish me.

I once tilted my head to look at him and asked in confusion, "Blake, why are you so good to me?"

He patted my head and said softly, "I don't know either. Maybe I was put on this earth to find you."

He was the dazzling, untamable star captain, yet with me, all his sharp edges seemed to melt away. He was willing to talk with me about the graffiti on a street corner, the clouds at dusk, and the gulls flying by; about clues from the past and dreams for the future, reminding me to watch for the changing weather. He cherished my imperfections, all my rough edges.

How could I not fall for a Blake like that?

But I never expected it was all a dream. And that eventually, I would have to wake up.

On the day of our graduation ceremony, Blake asked me to meet him afterward.

He’d hinted mysteriously that he’d gotten us tickets for a graduation trip to Hawaii. I knew this was it—the unspoken thing between us would finally be voiced today.

A thick layer of concealer covered my birthmark. I wanted to look my best for Blake.

But I waited and waited at the school gate until the sky grew dark, and Blake never showed. I sent countless messages and made endless calls, but they all went unanswered. It wasn't until I saw a classmate's Instagram Story that I realized he was at his mansion in Beverly Hills.

With a knot of dread in my stomach, I drove to the affluent neighborhood I had only ever seen on TV.

There, I met Blake's mother, Eleanor Sterling. She was an exceptionally elegant woman. She must have recognized me from the viral photo, and I'd heard Blake mention her. Eleanor had impeccable manners and pretended not to notice the birthmark on my face. The Sterling mansion was so vast I got lost on my way to the restroom, and that's when I overheard the cruel whispers:

"Is that the girl Blake likes?"

"What's wrong with her face? What could he possibly see in her?"

"She's not even as pretty as me. What kind of love potion did she use on him?"

I knew they were right.

When I drifted back to the main hall, feeling lost, Eleanor addressed me gently. "Miss Hayes, Blake is entertaining friends at the moment. I'll have him contact you when he's available, alright? There's no need for you to worry."

Looking at the noble, elegant woman before me, at the splendid and dazzling decor, I fled the Sterling estate as if escaping a nightmare.

Blake's party must have been a grand affair, as he didn't contact me for a full week. With the deadline for university registration looming, I sent him another message. Again, no reply.

I gathered my courage and went to his house once more.

But when I reached the mansion's entrance, I couldn't bring myself to go in. The house was ablaze with light, buzzing with voices. Another wild party was in full swing. And at the center of it all was Blake.

The young man, dressed in a casual shirt, was laughing and chatting with an easy grace among a crowd by the pool, completely in his element. He looked nothing like a boy who was supposed to be on a trip with me, and he still hadn't reached out.

I stared at him, my mind blank. He was as dazzling and magnetic as ever, tall and proud, and even his manner of speaking was the same. But in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger.

Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to run. But my feelings for Blake—my hopes for our future—held me frozen to the spot.

Perhaps my stare was too piercing, because Blake, deep in conversation, suddenly looked up and met my eyes.

He froze for a moment, then waved me over to the quiet terrace to talk.