People say I have the kind of smile that puts others at ease.
I've heard it since middle school. "You're always so bright, Kaori!" "It's nice how you make everyone feel included." "You're perfect."
Perfect.
That word used to feel like a crown. Now it feels more like a chain. But I still wear it. Every day.
I wake up early. Apply a light layer of blush for that "natural" look. Practice the tilt of my head in the mirror. Rehearse the rhythm of my words. Pause. Laugh. Speak again. Smile.
Perfection is a performance. And I've been the lead for years.
I noticed it a week ago. The change.
Souta laughed at something I said, but his eyes drifted just for a second. Toward the back of the classroom.
Toward her.
Sayuri Misaki.
She used to be invisible. The kind of girl you forget even while looking right at her. The girl who always blends into the wall.
I used to pity her. Now I watch her like she's holding something fragile I could break with a word.
And I wonder when did she become someone he saw?
It's not like I haven't known Souta forever.
We grew up in the same neighborhood. Shared bento boxes at the park. He cried when my dog died, and I cried when his grandmother passed. Everyone always assumed we'd end up together. I never corrected them.
Why would I?
He doesn't flirt with me the way he does with other girls. Doesn't show off. But he listens to me. Smiles in that quiet way that says I'm safe. Familiar.
I thought that was enough.
But now, he's looking at Sayuri like she's something rare.
Like he's seeing a secret that doesn't belong to him.
It makes my skin crawl.
When I told Sayuri to "stay away," I was being polite. I could've said worse.
But she just nodded. Of course she did. She always folds under pressure soft, weak, quiet. The kind of girl who pretends she doesn't care while secretly clinging to every ounce of attention she gets.
I don't like girls like that.
They're dangerous.
They make you feel sorry for them, and before you know it, they've stolen everything.
I wrote the note during lunch.
He talks to everyone. Don't get ideas.
I folded it neatly and taped it inside her locker when no one was looking. It wasn't even that harsh. If anything, it was merciful. A little reminder. A little nudge to know her place.
People like Sayuri don't belong in the spotlight. She should be grateful someone finally noticed her at all.
After school, I stay behind longer than usual. Pretend to look over club flyers while keeping my eyes fixed on the courtyard below.
They're sitting together again.
Souta and Sayuri.
He's giving her space, like always. Not touching, not speaking too much. But he's there. He chose to be there.
That's what hurts the most.
He used to wait for me after class.
Now he waits for her silence.
I grip my phone tighter.
My thumb hovers over a half-written message.
Souta. Be careful who you trust. Some girls play innocent just to get closer to you.
I stare at the words. My heart pounds. My finger shakes over the "send" button.
But I don't press it.
Not yet.
If I send it now, it looks desperate. Like I'm the one chasing him. Like I'm threatened.
And I'm not, right?
…Right?
Maybe I am.
Maybe I've been pretending so long that I forgot how much of this isn't mine to control anymore.
I've always had the role of "the girl everyone liked." It never occurred to me that someone like Sayuri could rewrite the script.
But here we are.
And I can feel it, shifting underneath me.
The story is starting to change.
I close my phone and tuck it into my bag.
Tomorrow, I'll smile again. Sayuri will shrink again. Souta will drift, maybe, but not too far.
Because I know how to stay in the spotlight.
And I won't let her steal it from me.
Not without a fight.