The Forgotten Neighbor

At seventeen, Beatrixa Watson and her neighbor Maverick Fuller tasted forbidden fruit, hiding their romance from everyone.

That day, she nervously held her homework, seeking his help.

Her budding affection burned too brightly. He noticed her feelings and gently coaxed her to lift her skirt.

"Don't be afraid. It won't hurt," he said.

Her unease and resistance melted under his charming, tender smile.

After that day, whenever Beatrixa visited him next door, his voice carried a teasing warmth. "I worked so hard helping you with your problems, Bae. How about a little reward for me?"

Her cheeks flushed as she agreed. When passion took over, he always kissed her forehead. "Bae, you're so good. I really like you."

He promised to go public with their relationship once she got into his university.

But when she arrived at his house, clutching her acceptance letter with excitement, his careless, mocking voice stopped her cold. "The only one I care about is Bailee. Beatrixa's just the neighbor girl. If Bailee hadn't been abroad as an exchange student this past year, and if Beatrixa didn't look a bit like her, I'd never have been with someone as overweight as her. Now that Bailee's back, it's time to ditch this problem."

...

Beatrixa stood frozen outside the door, her blood turning to ice.

"When are you dumping her? Why not call her over before you do and let us have a taste?" one of his friends said.

"We've never tried a chubby girl. I hear they feel good, nice and soft."

In the living room, Maverick's friends chuckled with suggestive grins.

Beatrixa's heart sank, her stomach twisting with dread.

She knew she should leave, block Maverick's number, and never look back, but her feet felt rooted to the ground.

A faint hope lingered in her chest, hoping that even if Maverick didn't love her, he wouldn't stoop so low as to offer her up to his friends.

Maverick's brow furrowed, his expression darkening. "No way. She's too in love with me. She'd never agree."

One of them chimed in with a suggestion. "Get her drunk, blindfold her. She won't know what's happening."

Maverick's face stayed cold, and he said nothing.

His friends exchanged glances, their eyes narrowing. "Maverick, don't tell me you're actually into that chubby girl."

Beatrixa held her breath, a flicker of hope rising in her heart.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, his next words crushed her.

"There's no way I'd ever like her," Maverick said, his voice dripping with disdain. "She's got bad grades, she's fat, insecure, and timid. What's there to like? If you guys want to mess around, go ahead. I'll call her over."

His words stabbed into Beatrixa's heart like shards of ice.

Her vision blurred, and she nearly collapsed.

The boy she'd secretly loved for ten years saw her this way.

Just yesterday, when he kissed her, he called her sweet, saying he loved how sensible and gentle she was.

Now, his voice was cold and disgusted, calling her fat, insecure, and unworthy of his affection.

Beatrixa's phone was on silent. When Maverick called, she stared at the screen but didn't answer.

No one inside noticed she was standing just outside the door.

The call went unanswered and disconnected. Then a message from Maverick popped up. "Bae, did you get your acceptance letter? Come over to my place. I've got a surprise for you."

Her hands and feet felt like ice, tears streaming down her cheeks and falling to the ground.

After a long moment, she wiped her eyes, turned, and went home. With red-rimmed eyes, she spoke to her parents. "Mom, Dad, I don't want to stay here for university. I'm going with you to study in Elda."

Beatrixa's parents were stunned by her words.

They knew their daughter had always adored Maverick, the boy next door, three years her senior.

She had worked so hard to get into the same university as him. Why would she suddenly change her mind and want to move to Elda with them?

Her mother studied Beatrixa's red-rimmed eyes and asked gently, "Bae, what's wrong? Did Maverick hurt you?"

Beatrixa recalled the words she overheard, her heart aching with bitterness. She shook her head. "Mom, he doesn't like me. He's in love with someone else."

Her parents exchanged a glance and sighed, saying nothing more.

"Go pack your things and say goodbye to your friends here. We have one month," her father said, patting her shoulder with a kind smile.

Beatrixa nodded. Then a knock came at the door.

Her mother opened it to find Maverick standing there, polite as ever. "I need to talk to Bae for a moment. Can she come out?"

Beatrixa hadn't expected him to show up just because she ignored his call and message.

Her mother looked back at her, and after a moment's hesitation, Beatrixa stepped outside.

Maverick noticed her swollen eyes, gazed at her briefly, and sighed, his expression a mix of understanding and resignation.

In those few seconds, he realized she had overheard his words, his face showing a mix of helplessness and annoyance.

"Well, that's unfortunate. You heard everything," he said.

Beatrixa's hands and feet felt cold, her eyes brimming with tears. She looked up at him, dazed. "If you love someone else, why did you give me hope?"

Maverick ruffled her hair, his tone soft. "Didn't you hear? You look a lot like her. I planned to keep this from you. This past year, you've been so good, so obedient. I really liked that about you."

Tears finally spilled down Beatrixa's cheeks.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you," he said, wiping her tears gently with his fingers. "We'll stay together, just like before.

But in everyone else's eyes, you'll just be my neighbor girl."

His eyes remained gentle.

Through them, Beatrixa saw her own pitiful, humiliated reflection.

Stunned, she spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Maverick, are you asking me to be your mistress?"

He didn't deny it.

Beatrixa's body went cold, her eyes wide with disbelief.

For the first time, the girl who had always been obedient in front of him defied him.

Her eyes were still red, her voice trembled, but she spoke firmly, slowly, with resolve. "I won't do it. Maverick, we're done. From now on, you're just my neighbor."

Maverick hadn't expected Beatrixa to stand up to him.

Anger flared in his chest, and he let out a cold laugh. He released her, stepped back, and looked her up and down, his tone sharp. "Don't regret this. After all, a chubby girl like you? Who else but me would want you? If you come crawling back, it won't be so easy."

Without another glance, Maverick walked away.

Beatrixa lowered her head and pinched her arm hard.

Over her three years of high school, anxiety had led to binge eating, causing her to gain tens of pounds.

She was overweight, but that didn't give Maverick the right to attack her.

Beatrixa turned and went back inside to her room, where she began sorting through the things Maverick had given her.

There were handwritten study notes and key points he had meticulously prepared to help her catch up to him.

In the hundred days before her entrance exam, he had given her a hundred paper cranes, one to open each day.

Every crane carried words of encouragement written in his hand.

Looking at these things, Beatrixa's eyes reddened again as memories flooded back.

When she was seven, Maverick's family moved next door. He became the perfect child in her parents' eyes-smart, handsome, and decent.

He had saved her from drowning, and from that moment, she secretly loved him until she was seventeen.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't reconcile the boy who had once bravely saved her with the cold, cruel Maverick of today.

Beatrixa packed the paper cranes, the study notes, and the small gifts he had given her into a box.

When the day came to leave, she would return every single one.

With a month left before leaving for abroad, Beatrixa invited her closest friend to dinner.

She arrived early at the restaurant and ordered dishes they both loved.

While fetching a drink, someone accidentally bumped into her.

Caught off guard, Beatrixa fell to the floor.

She wore a skirt, and with a loud rip, the shoulder strap tore, exposing her smooth shoulder and the faint outline of her chest.

The boy who bumped her started to apologize but froze when he recognized her. "Beatrixa? Maverick's chubby neighbor girl?"

Heads turned as people overheard the commotion.

Beatrixa frantically clutched the torn fabric, trying to cover herself.

The stares around her stung like needles, sharp and burning.

The boy noticed her struggle and smirked openly. "You're that heavy and still wear a skirt? Look, you ripped it wide open."

He turned and shouted, "Maverick, come over here! You gotta see this!"

Beatrixa realized Maverick was nearby when she heard the boy call out.

She turned to leave, but the boy blocked her path, refusing to let her go. "Where are you running? Don't you like Maverick? I want him to see you like this and decide if he still cares."

Beatrixa bit her lip, her right hand gripping her skirt tightly as humiliation and shame surged within her.

Desperate to escape, she pushed past him, knocking him to the ground.

Unprepared, he fell, hitting his head and drawing blood.

Touching the blood on his forehead, the boy's eyes blazed with anger. "You fat pig, you dared shove me? You're paying for this, and you'll apologize!"

He grabbed her arm, shouting, "Hey, everyone, look! This fat pig hit me and thinks she can just walk away!"

The crowd's attention turned to her, their gazes filled with disgust and judgment.

Maverick approached from a distance, standing beside a slender, beautiful girl.

Her striking eyes bore a slight resemblance to Beatrixa's, and she held the skirt Beatrixa had been eyeing earlier.

So this was the girl Maverick loved.

Compared to her, Beatrixa felt entirely different-less beautiful, less confident.

Everything she lacked, this girl had.

Beatrixa's eyes stung with unshed tears.

She lowered her head, acutely aware of how pathetic she looked.

As Maverick arrived, the boy exaggerated the story, claiming Beatrixa bumped him, fell, tore her skirt, and then shoved him when he pointed out her weight.

"She's so fat she can't even wear a skirt properly. And she dares to shove me?" he said. "Is it not true? A girl that heavy shouldn't be out embarrassing herself in a skirt."

After hearing the boy's account, Bailee turned to Maverick, her voice soft. "Maverick, Simon's just stating facts. She caused him to get hurt. Asking her to apologize isn't too much, right?"

Beatrixa looked at Bailee, who met her gaze with a faint smile, a flicker of malice in her eyes.

Beatrixa wanted to speak, to explain that he bumped her first, humiliated her, and blocked her way, which forced her to push him.

But her throat felt blocked, the words refusing to come.

She looked up at Maverick, waiting for his response.

His gaze lingered on her, his tone flat. "She should apologize."

Simon clutched his forehead and sneered. "You hear that? Maverick says you need to apologize."

Beatrixa stood frozen, as if doused with cold water, her body chilled to the bone.

She never imagined Maverick, who always protected her, would demand an apology without caring about the truth.

All because Bailee thought she should.

When Beatrixa didn't speak, Maverick's eyes drifted to her torn skirt.

She saw a familiar expression on his face, one that seemed to sigh in exasperation.

It was the look he gave her whenever she messed up, as if she'd caused him endless trouble.

Maverick turned to Simon. "She's like my little sister. If she did something wrong, I'll apologize for her."