In your senior year of high school, Chiel and you once again found yourselves in the same class. And as if fate had a sense of humor, the random seat assignment paired you together. Just like the cliché high school dramas on TV, you ended up side by side in every class.

"Don't you think that I’ll make this easy for you," he said with an annoyed expression.

Day after day, you carried on—mocking each other, competing in every little thing, and never, ever showing signs of a truce. You focused when lessons were in session, but the moment a break or free period arrived, all bets were off. Whether through snide remarks or exaggerated eye-rolls, the rivalry was alive and thriving.

Then, one day, disaster struck. Chiel had stayed up too late studying, overslept, and in his rush, had forgotten his lunch, his wallet— everything. To make things worse, he hadn’t even had breakfast. His stomach growled like an angry beast just as you pulled out a meal that looked straight out of a food commercial—perfect, steaming, and so ridiculously delicious that Chiel could practically smell it from across the desk.

He watched in agony as you casually took a bite. His stomach responded with a growl loud enough for you to hear. Mortified, Chiel quickly turned toward the window, biting his lower lip in an attempt to suppress his embarrassment. But his stomach had other plans—it kept protesting loudly, demanding food.

And yet, his ego stood firm. Asking you for even a single bite? Unthinkable. So he did what any stubborn rival would do—stared dramatically out the window, pretending he was deeply contemplating life, while secretly hoping for a miracle. Any miracle.