The week began like any other, but there was something different in the air — a quiet shift that no one seemed to name, yet everyone could feel.
William's name started to echo more often in conversations, drifting through hallways and classrooms like a melody that refused to fade. Teachers praised him for his quick wit; classmates sought him out for help, and whispers of "He's really cool, isn't he?" passed from one mouth to another.
It wasn't sudden. It wasn't forced. It just… happened.
Nina noticed it first during English class. The teacher had asked a question about poetry, something abstract and dull, the kind that made half the class groan. William raised his hand — as he always did — and spoke with the easy confidence of someone who didn't realize people were listening.
"He wasn't trying to sound smart," she thought, watching him from the second row. He just was.
When he finished, a small murmur of admiration rippled through the room. Even Chloé smiled at him — that subtle, knowing smile that seemed to say, you belong here.
By the end of the day, three people had asked him to join the school soccer team, another wanted his help organizing the class festival, and Thomas couldn't stop teasing him about being "Mr. Popular."
William only laughed. "You guys are exaggerating."
But Nina could tell — part of him liked it. And maybe that was fine. Maybe he deserved it. Still, every laugh he shared with someone else felt like a small thread being pulled from the fabric of their friendship.
---
It became more visible by Friday. Posters announcing the interclass soccer match covered the hallways, and somehow, William's name appeared in bold letters among the starters.
"Didn't know you played soccer seriously," Nina said when they met by the lockers.
He shrugged, smiling. "I don't, really. They were short on players, and Thomas dragged me in. Said I couldn't possibly mess it up."
She smiled faintly. "He's not wrong."
"You'll come watch, right?" he asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
Nina hesitated for a second too long. "Maybe. If I finish my notes."
"Come on, Nina," he said with that familiar grin — the one that made everything feel normal again. "It'll be fun."
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll come."
When he left, she stood there a moment longer, staring at the locker doors, feeling the echo of his voice linger inside her chest. I'll come, she repeated silently, though she wasn't sure if she meant for him or for herself.
---
Saturday afternoon, the courtyard transformed into a makeshift stadium. Lines of students filled the benches, waving banners and chanting names. The air smelled of cut grass, cheap soda, and excitement.
Nina sat near Sophia and Charlotte, who were cheering enthusiastically, while Rose scribbled absentmindedly in a sketchbook. The noise around them felt distant, like a world Nina no longer belonged to.
When William walked onto the field in his jersey, laughter and cheers erupted. His hair caught the sunlight, his expression calm yet alive with that unmistakable spark.
Chloé stood by the sidelines, holding a water bottle and smiling proudly.
Nina's heart sank. She tried to focus on the game, but her eyes followed him relentlessly — the way he ran, the way his teammates shouted his name, the way he smiled after each goal.
He looked happy. Radiant.
And somehow, she couldn't remember the last time he had smiled like that with her.
---
As the game went on, a group of girls nearby began whispering.
"William's so talented. Did you see that move?"
"He's literally the only reason they're winning."
"He's kind of perfect, isn't he?"
Nina forced a laugh, trying to hide her discomfort. Sophia nudged her lightly. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, her voice barely audible over the crowd. "Just watching."
But she wasn't watching the match anymore. She was watching him — the way everyone's eyes followed him, the effortless way he seemed to draw attention without asking for it. It used to be their small world, quiet and safe. Now, it belonged to everyone.
When the referee blew the final whistle, the field erupted into cheers. William's team had won, and he was at the center of it — surrounded by teammates, clapped on the back, pulled into hugs. Chloé ran toward him, laughing, her hair flying behind her like a ribbon of sunlight.
And Nina… just sat there, clapping softly, smiling as though she wasn't breaking apart inside.
---
Later, when the crowd began to disperse, William jogged over to the stands. "You came," he said, breathless, his face still flushed from the match.
"Of course," Nina replied, smiling faintly. "I said I would."
"Did you see that goal near the end?" His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"I did. You were great."
He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "You think so?"
"I know so," she said, and meant it.
For a second, his expression softened, that familiar warmth flickering in his eyes. But then Chloé called his name from across the field, waving. William turned instinctively.
"I should go help clean up," he said quickly. "Catch you later?"
"Sure," Nina replied, though the word felt heavy.
He ran back toward the group, joining the laughter and chatter, and Nina stood there for a long time before finally walking away.
---
That night, back in her room, the echoes of the match still lingered. The cheers, the laughter, the sound of Chloé's voice calling his name — they replayed in her mind like fragments of a song she couldn't forget.
She opened her notebook again.
Today, he shined in front of everyone. I was proud. Truly. But for the first time, I realized something — maybe the version of him I know isn't just mine anymore. Maybe it never was.
She paused, staring at the page.
He's growing, and I'm still standing in the same place, trying to hold on to something that keeps moving away.
The ink trembled where her pen pressed too long against the paper. She closed the notebook carefully, as though afraid the words might escape.
---
The following week, the shift became undeniable.
Every hallway seemed to echo his name. Invitations piled up — group projects, lunch plans, even the student council asked him to join. He still greeted Nina every morning, still smiled that same warm smile. But those moments were shorter now, thinner somehow, stretched between conversations with others.
Sophia noticed it too.
"He's becoming everyone's favorite," she said one afternoon, watching from across the courtyard.
"Yeah," Nina murmured. "I guess he is."
"You should talk to him before it gets too weird."
"What would I even say?"
"That you miss him," Sophia replied simply.
Nina smiled faintly. "I'm not sure he'd understand."
She didn't mean it as an accusation — just a quiet truth.
---
Days later, as they walked home, William finally noticed the distance between them.
"You've been quiet lately," he said, glancing sideways. "Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
He frowned. "You don't look fine."
She laughed softly, avoiding his eyes. "You're imagining things. I'm just tired."
He stopped walking, his voice softer now. "Nina… you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"
She hesitated — one heartbeat, two — then nodded. "Of course."
But she didn't tell him.
Because how do you explain to someone that you're not angry or sad — just invisible?
---
That night, she dreamed of the soccer field again. The cheers, the golden light, the way he smiled when Chloé called his name. Only this time, when she tried to walk toward him, her feet wouldn't move. The crowd closed in, and his face disappeared into the blur of colors and sound.
When she woke up, her pillow was damp. She didn't remember crying.