The air in the classroom was heavy that morning, filled with the soft murmur of students trading weekend gossip. The scent of new paper and cheap perfume floated in the air — the unmistakable smell of a new school year still trying to find its rhythm.
Nina sat by the window, chin resting on her palm, pretending to follow the teacher's explanations. Her eyes, however, were fixed somewhere else — on William, who was laughing quietly with Chloé at the back of the room.
It had only been a few days since Chloé arrived, and yet, somehow, she already belonged. She had that rare, magnetic ease — the kind that pulled people toward her without trying. Her laughter was soft but confident, her movements deliberate, her smile perfectly timed.
Nina wanted to hate her, but she couldn't. That was the worst part.
She watched as Chloé leaned over William's desk, whispering something that made him grin. The image struck her like a flash of cold water. Something in her chest tightened, and though she didn't want to admit it, the sound of their laughter was starting to make her heart ache in a way she couldn't name.
Stop it, she told herself. You're being ridiculous.
---
During the lunch break, the group settled under their usual tree — but everything felt different.
Charlotte and Sophia were chatting about a new teacher, Rose was flipping through a fashion magazine, and William was sitting just a little too close to Chloé. It wasn't deliberate — not in a way that others would notice — but Nina did. She noticed everything. The subtle angle of his shoulders, how he turned slightly toward Chloé, how his smile lingered longer when he spoke to her.
She tried to focus on her food, but it tasted like paper.
"So," Charlotte began, looking between William and Chloé with a teasing grin, "you two seem to be getting along pretty well."
William laughed. "We're just working on the class project together."
"Right," Sophia said, smirking. "Sure looks like teamwork to me."
Nina forced herself to laugh with the group, but her throat felt dry. She glanced down at her notebook, pretending to write something just to avoid their eyes.
Chloé, graceful as ever, smiled politely. "He's helping me catch up on the lessons I missed. That's all."
Her voice was calm, unbothered — she didn't need to defend herself.
But Nina felt a twinge of something dark coil inside her. Not because of what Chloé said, but because it was true. William had always been like that — kind, helpful, unable to say no. It was part of what made him who he was.
And maybe, that was exactly why it hurt.
---
The next few days blurred together — lectures, laughter, the rustle of papers. Yet, within that routine, Nina felt herself slipping further away from the center. The group had started to reorganize, unconsciously perhaps, but undeniably.
William spent most of his free periods with Chloé now, helping her catch up, walking her to the library. Thomas and Franklin had taken to teasing him about it constantly, and though William brushed it off, Nina could tell the jokes didn't bother him.
Sophia and Charlotte, always observant, began spending more time together too. Their conversations had shifted — boyfriends, make-up, new trends — things Nina pretended to care about but never truly did.
She was there, but not really. Her presence had become a shadow, a quiet observer of a group she no longer felt part of.
Sometimes, she caught herself staring out the window during class, her reflection faintly visible against the glass — blurred, distant, fading.
---
One afternoon, as the rain started to fall outside, the teacher announced a new seating chart. The room filled with groans and laughter as names were called.
When Nina heard hers, she froze.
"William, you'll move to the back row with Chloé. Nina, you'll take the front corner by the window."
The scrape of chairs echoed like a verdict.
William turned to her with an apologetic smile. "Guess we're getting separated."
"Yeah," she said softly. "Guess so."
He hesitated for a moment, as if wanting to add something, but then shrugged lightly and started moving his things. Nina sat down in her new seat, the distance between them suddenly feeling much greater than a few meters.
The class resumed, but Nina's attention was lost. The soft murmur of William's voice from the back of the room was now a background noise — comforting and painful all at once.
Every so often, she heard Chloé laugh.
---
Later that day, Sophia found her at the lockers, staring blankly at her books.
"You okay?" she asked, leaning casually against the metal door.
Nina gave a tired smile. "Yeah. Just… tired."
"Uh-huh." Sophia folded her arms. "Look, if this is about William—"
"It's not," Nina interrupted, maybe too quickly.
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You know, you don't have to pretend with me."
"I'm not pretending."
"You are," Sophia said softly. "And it's fine. But you can't keep doing this to yourself. You're allowed to feel jealous."
Nina closed her locker slowly, the sound ringing in the empty hallway. "I'm not jealous. It's just… different now."
Sophia sighed. "Different isn't always bad, you know."
"Maybe," Nina whispered. "But it still hurts."
---
That evening, Nina couldn't concentrate on her homework. The rain outside had turned heavier, drumming against the window like a thousand small knocks. She opened her notebook — the one she had started calling her secret place.
She wrote:
Everyone keeps saying things change. They say it like it's normal, like it's supposed to happen. But no one tells you how it feels when the person who used to look for you starts looking for someone else instead.
She paused, the ink bleeding slightly into the paper.
He doesn't even notice. Maybe that's the worst part.
Her pen hovered, trembling slightly, before she added:
I miss him, even when he's right there.
---
The next day, William greeted her as always — the same bright smile, the same warmth. But for the first time, it didn't feel enough.
"Hey," he said. "Want to grab lunch later?"
She hesitated. "I promised Sophia I'd sit with her today."
"Oh, okay," he said easily, though a flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Maybe tomorrow, then."
"Sure," she murmured.
She walked away before he could see the sadness in her eyes.
That afternoon, she sat with Sophia and Charlotte again. Their laughter filled the space, but Nina's mind was elsewhere. Across the courtyard, William was sitting with Chloé. They were bent over the same notebook, their heads close together.
Charlotte followed her gaze. "You should say something, you know."
"What would I even say?" Nina replied, voice low.
"That you miss him."
Nina shook her head. "He's happy. That should be enough."
But even as she said it, her chest ached with the weight of a truth she couldn't admit: she wasn't sure if she wanted him to be happy — at least, not without her.
---
That night, she lay awake long after midnight, the ceiling faintly illuminated by the streetlights outside. Every laugh, every look between William and Chloé replayed in her mind like a film she couldn't stop watching.
For the first time, she realized that maybe love didn't always begin with a confession. Sometimes, it began quietly — in the moments you tried hardest to deny.
And just as quietly, it could start to hurt.