The Slap That End 18 Years novel Chapter 2

**Inside the Fading Emerald Shadows Quiet Storms by Livia T. Rynn**

**Chapter 2**

Throughout my middle school years, there was a delightful ritual that unfolded after every soccer match. Joseph, with his infectious enthusiasm, would rally his teammates for a post-game ice cream outing.

I, on the other hand, would find a cozy spot by the edge of the field, cradling my backpack close to my chest, patiently waiting for him. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, our shadows stretched out before us, elongating like the anticipation in my heart.

Eventually, he would make his way over, a playful smirk on his face as he pulled me up by the arm. “Lucille, what are you, glued to the spot?” he’d grumble, but I could hear the fondness beneath his words.

Despite his mock annoyance, he would always break off a piece of his strawberry popsicle and hand it to me with a grin.

It was a well-known fact that he absolutely loathed the teasing he received for never being seen without his shadow—me.

I still remember that one afternoon, while we were engaged in a spirited game of marbles in the alley, his friends launched their playful jabs. “Look, everyone! Joseph brought his girlfriend along!” they laughed, and I could see the fury boiling in his eyes.

In a fit of anger, he hurled all his glass marbles into the drain, the clinking sound echoing like a heart breaking.

Yet, the very next day, when I was confined to my bed with a fever, he surprised me by skipping school. He climbed over the fence with an agility that always amazed me and began tossing little notes through my window. Each note was a treasure, filled with silly jokes scrawled in his messy handwriting, a reminder that he was always thinking of me.

As we transitioned into high school, I became acutely aware of Joseph’s lingering glances. It was as if I had a sixth sense, always feeling his gaze on me—whether I was deep in thought, chewing on my pen while solving a math problem, tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear, or even napping with my head resting on my desk.

His gaze would flit past me, light and fleeting, like a gentle summer breeze that sends shivers down your spine.

“Joseph.” I spun around one day, catching him off guard before he could slip away. “Can you help me with this question?”

The sound of his pen clattering to the floor was like a thunderclap in the hushed classroom.

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating his ears, which turned a bright shade of crimson, almost glowing in the light.

“I…” he stammered, scrambling to retrieve his pen, his hair brushing against my hand as he leaned closer. “Just… just use this formula here…”

His voice trailed off, becoming softer and softer, until it was barely a whisper.

I propped my chin on my hand, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. The boy who would fight fiercely for me without a second thought was now trembling at the mere proximity of our bodies.

Outside, petals danced down from the trees, landing softly on the pages of his textbook, as if nature itself was bearing witness to our quiet exchange.

Then came that fateful night when our parents suggested we should consider getting engaged. Joseph, visibly agitated, pulled me into the fire escape, the dim light flickering above us like a heartbeat.

His hand, clammy and tense, gripped mine so tightly it was almost painful. “You need to think this through,” he urged, his voice wavering. “You’re still young. What if you find someone better someday and—”

A high-pitched whine filled my ears, a cacophony that felt like a drill boring into my skull.

This was the first time I had ever been publicly ridiculed in such a malicious way. The humiliation washed over me like a tidal wave, and all I wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Sorry, Lucille. Guess I’m just super blunt,” Yvonne said, tilting her head, her new crystal nails tapping rhythmically on my coaster adorned with a cute character. “Come on, Lucille, don’t tell me you’re so uptight that you can’t even take a joke.”

I clutched my skirt tightly, battling the urge to show just how rattled I was.

“That’s enough.” Joseph’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

When I turned around, I saw his lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign of his displeasure.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, creating a halo effect around his silhouette. For a brief moment, he resembled that middle school boy who would throw punches for me without a second thought.

Yvonne pouted, clearly irritated. “I was just messing around with Lucille. Seriously, Mr. Shaw, do you really have to step in for this kind of thing?”

“This isn’t a lounge for chit-chat, Yvonne. If you’re so eager to make small talk, perhaps you should consider resigning and chatting to your heart’s content elsewhere,” Joseph retorted, his voice as cold as ice.

Yvonne, visibly deflated, had no choice but to trudge back to her desk, her sulking demeanor evident as she returned to her work.