Aleah's POV
When I finally reached them, I hesitated just a moment before gently tapping Yasmin on the shoulder. She turned around, but behind her eyes, I caught something sharp—irritation, like I was interrupting something important, something she didn't want disturbed.
"Sorry to disturb," I murmured, my voice barely steady, a tremor threading through it.
Then I forced the smile I'd practiced a thousand times—my million-dollar, carefully crafted fake smile—the one that begged silently, please don't turn away.
"Can you guys... please be my friends?" I asked softly, willing my words to sound braver than I felt.
The girl beside Yasmin blinked at me, her expression polite but distant. "Are you new here? I've never seen you before," she said casually, as if I were a stranger who'd wandered into their world by mistake.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and my throat tightened so much I had to swallow hard.
And just like that, my heart splintered into a thousand invisible fragments—fractures spreading through the quiet spaces no one ever seemed to notice.
Three years in this school—three whole years—and still, I was nothing more than an echo, a shadow slipping through crowded hallways, classrooms, and moments. Yasmin and I had exchanged a few glances here and there, but none of them had ever cut through the fog that kept me unseen.
Yasmin didn't say a word. Her gaze dropped briefly, avoiding mine, and she subtly shifted away, as if creating distance without having to speak.
Now, in Grade 10, the truth I'd been trying to ignore finally settled in: no one had really seen me.
And it hurt far more than I ever imagined it would.