Aleah's POV
Today is a special day—not because of some calendar event or school assembly—but because I decided it would be. I gathered every ounce of courage I could find, stitched it together with hope, and promised myself that today, I would ask Yasmin to be my friend. Not just a passing hello, not just hallway smiles or shared glances—but a real connection. One with depth, with meaning. Something that might take root where loneliness used to live.
I wanted more than surface conversations. I wanted someone who saw beyond the mask, someone who could maybe—just maybe—rewrite the endless loop of sameness that trapped me. I thought Yasmin could be that someone. I hoped she could be.
So I dressed for the moment, like I was stepping into a chapter that mattered. My bloody red blazer rested over my school uniform—bold, a little defiant, definitely intentional. I wanted to feel powerful, visible, impossible to miss. Like I belonged to something bigger than the shadows of my own thoughts.
When I arrived at school, my eyes scanned the crowd and landed on her—Yasmin. She stood at a distance, laughing, her sound bright and effortless. But she wasn't alone.
There was a girl next to her. Close. Too close.
They leaned into each other the way people do when the world disappears around them. There was a kind of intimacy in the space between them—not quite romantic, not yet defined, but heavy with implication. I felt it pressing on my chest.
I walked toward them anyway, each step heavier than the last. My heart didn't beat—it hung low and uncertain, like it already knew what I refused to accept.
For a moment, I told myself maybe I was wrong. Maybe their closeness was just friendly—the way people sometimes lean in when the noise gets loud. Maybe those fingers brushing were nothing more than a quick gesture, and the shared gaze was just a private joke.
I told myself Yasmin would see me, pull away, flash a quick smile, maybe even joke it off—convince me this was all just a trick my mind was playing. That none of it meant anything beyond a passing moment.
But she didn't.
Not only that—her eyes didn't flicker with surprise. No hesitation. No sign that my presence disrupted their little world.
By the time I reached them, they were practically tangled in each other's presence—fingers brushing, a shared gaze that didn't break. They were playful in that too-familiar way, and it stung like salt in a wound I hadn't realized was wide open.
It wasn't just the sight of them. It was the sound of Yasmin's laughter—the kind I had wanted to earn. The look in her eyes—the one I had hoped might one day be meant for me.
And suddenly, the day I had marked as special cracked right down the middle.