Jackson Wash, 8 years old
When Jackson Walsh was 8 years old, he became hopelessly fascinated by a girl in his class.
Her name was Mariam Doyle.
Mariam looked as though she had descended to the mortal world from a fairy land.
She looked like one of the otherworldly beings from the fairy tales his nanny used to read to him when he was in kindergarten.
He had always hated those stories, preferring crime documentaries and detective shows instead.
Someone like Mariam should have held no appeal for him whatsoever.
Yet the fact that she did remained a mystery he couldn’t solve.
Her vibrant blonde hair fell in soft waves down her back like spun gold.
Her skin was fair and flawless, with rosy cheeks that turned pink whenever she laughed.
A small dimple appeared on her left cheek whenever she smiled and her large green eyes were bright and vivid, like a forest after the rain.
She was also exceptionally intelligent and academically gifted.
No matter the subject, Mariam seemed to grasp concepts far more quickly than her classmates.
She consistently ranked among the top students in her grade, much to his frustration.
But Mariam kept her distance from him.
She was a Doyle, and he was a Walsh, and even at their young age she seemed painfully aware of the bitter business rivalry between their families.
Whenever they happened to cross paths in the school hallways, she would immediately turn and head in the opposite direction.
If a teacher assigned them seats beside each other, she behaved as though she had been forced to sit next to an unpleasant fly.
Most of the time, she only spoke to Ronan and Minghao, making it nearly impossible for Jackson to find an opportunity to talk to her.
In the end, he gave up trying to approach her.
Instead, he settled for watching from a distance, quietly observing the fairy-like girl who seemed out of his reach.
At first it was harmless curiosity.
Then it became a habit.
Eventually it became something dangerously close to obsession.
There were days when he would deliberately pass by Doyle estate after school, just to catch a glimpse of her playing inside with her friends.
One afternoon, while standing beneath a tree across from the estate gates, he noticed he wasn’t the only one there.
A group of boys from school stood nearby.
At the center of them was Adrian Hayes.
“This is where Mariam lives,” Adrian announced to his other friends.
Nolan whistled.
“What if she rejects him?” Oliver asked.
“Shut up, Oliver. At least let him try.”
Oliver folded his arms.
“I still don’t get it. Is that blonde bimbo really worth all this?”
Adrian’s expression became sour hearing Oliver’s sexist remark.
He immediately argued.
“She has the highest grades in our class.”
“So?”
“So she’s not a bimbo.”
Oliver raised both hands in mock surrender.
“You are truly in love with her to defend her like that.”
That was true.
Adrian took a slow, steady breath before exhaling deeply.
His heart pounded against his chest because after months of hesitation and countless second thoughts, he had finally decided to tell Mariam Doyle how he felt.
THWACK!
But before he could take another step toward the mansion gates, a punch landed on him, sending him flying the other way and he crashed onto the pavement.
“What the—” Oliver stared in shock as his friend was sent flying back like a leaf caught in the wind.
His eyes quickly locked onto the attacker—another schoolmate, Jackson.
“Are you a psycho?!”
Nolan immediately grabbed Jackson by the collar.
“Why did you hit Adrian like that?”
Jackson stared back at him coldly.
To him it was simple.
How dare Adrian even have any thoughts about Mariam?
If he couldn’t have her attention, then nobody else deserved it either.
Of course, he couldn’t exactly say that aloud.
So he remained silent.
Meanwhile, Adrian managed to push himself upright.
“Wait…” he managed to groaned.
He wanted to stop Nolan from hitting Jackson.
“Don’t hit him.”
Nolan looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“He punched you!”
“He’s a Walsh…” Adrian muttered.
Unfortunately his warning was of no use.
Nolan punched Jackson across his jaw.
His face was tilted to the side.
He gritted his teeth and punched Nolan back, breaking his nose in the process.
The fight that followed was messy.
Jackson was thinner than the others, but he fought like a feral animal.
Every punch he threw landed with surprising force.
By the end, everyone looked equally miserable.
“What is going on here?” The sharp voice was heard, instantly freezing the fight in place.
The boys halted mid-motion and turned toward the high-pitched voice.
Standing at the estate gates was a girl whose age seemed older than them—Megan Doyle.
Unlike Mariam, Megan had dirty blonde hair, darker skin kissed by sunlight and a scattering of freckles across her nose.
Her warm brown eyes carried both intelligence and kindness.
Seeing an older girl, the young boys immediately scurried away, not wanting to get into any kind of trouble.
Megan sighed.
Then she walked over to Jackson.
“Are you hurt?”
Jackson blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
He had fully expected her to scold him, especially since he had been the one who started the fight.
Instead, she simply extended a hand toward him.
After a brief hesitation, he slowly reached out and accepted it.
To this day, Jackson remained grateful that Megan never once asked why the fight had happened.
“Come on,” she said.
“Let’s clean you up.”
Jackson stared.
She was taking him inside?
The Doyle mansion?