I was around ten when I first noticed it—a subtle shift in the way my heart fluttered at the sight of beauty. While other girls giggled over boy bands and heartthrobs, my eyes were drawn to the actresses on TV. Their elegance, their grace—it captivated me in ways I couldn't comprehend.

My heart beat faster for them, not for the male heartthrobs plastered on posters lining my friends' walls. Confusion swirled within me. I didn't understand what it meant, only that it felt different, and I didn't dare speak a word.

It wasn't until a hushed conversation with my closest friend, a girl I trusted implicitly, that the hidden truth within me found a voice. Tentatively, I confided in her, hoping for understanding and acceptance.

But the moment those words escaped my lips, the air thickened with an uncomfortable silence. Her eyes held a mix of shock and revulsion, a betrayal I hadn't anticipated. The very person I had trusted to understand me recoiled as though I'd confessed a grievous sin.

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The next day at school, whispers trailed behind me like a damning echo. Rumours spread like wildfire, painting me as something alien, something to be feared. The friends I'd once laughed and shared secrets with distanced themselves, wary gazes following my every move.

I became an outcast in my own world, the girl who dared to feel differently. Their fear of the unknown became a weapon used against me. The isolation weighed heavily on my young shoulders, the innocence of childhood shattered by rejection and harsh judgement.

Each day felt like an eternity, navigating the halls where once familiar faces turned into silent judges. I carried the burden of their misconceptions and fears, the weight of loneliness a constant companion.

Yet, amidst the solitude, a seed of resilience took root within me. I learned to wear a facade, to mould myself into someone society could accept—a guise that shielded me from further alienation. I became Kaoru, the confident and enigmatic guy, burying Kaori's truth beneath layers of deception.

Those memories are etched into the fabric of my being—a reminder of the pain of rejection and the price of revealing my authentic self. Even now, the wounds from that time remain tender, a stark reminder of a past I can't escape, a past that shaped the path I walk today.