CHAPTER TWO

For a moment, I thought I was imagining her.

That confident walk. That dark, wavy hair catching the breeze just so. That easy grace like she knew exactly where she belonged in the world. Marianne.

My smile faltered.

She didn’t head for the bleachers. She just stood at the far edge of the field, arms folded across her chest, watching the game like it was her own private show.

Like he was her own private show.

I swallowed hard and looked back at Damian.

He hadn’t seen her yet. He was still caught up in the rhythm of the match, calling out plays, passing, running, so focused. So oblivious.

Please don’t notice her, I silently begged.

But of course, that prayer went unanswered.

I turned my gaze back to Marianne. She wasn’t just standing now. She was cheering. Loud, enthusiastic, the kind of cheer that turned heads. My fingers fiddled in my lap, unconsciously wringing themselves as the voice I had just gotten used to hearing, hiis laughter, his warmth, felt like it was slipping from my hands.

It wasn’t long before Damian looked toward the sound.

And that was the moment I felt it.

His smile.

That wide, radiant smile he’d given me just minutes ago.

Only now, it was hers.

I sat still, willing myself not to react, even as the air seemed to thicken around me, trapping every breath in my chest. My stomach sank like a stone, and the warmth I had clung to from earlier turned cold at my fingertips.

Of course, he’d smile like that at her.

She was Marriane, a girl he recently started having a crush on… Damian wouldn't stop talking about her to me, I got to know who she was before she even met me.

I told myself it was just a crush. A phase. That he’d grow out of it the way boys did when reality hit and infatuation faded.

But watching him now, his attention flickering toward her again and again between plays, it didn’t feel like a phase. It felt real. Felt like something I wasn’t part of. Couldn’t be part of.

The final whistle blew.

The game ended.

Applause erupted around me, and players clapped each other on the back, exchanging tired grins and water bottles. Damian jogged toward the edge of the field, his shirt clinging to him with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead. Marriane had moved away from her original spot.

He looked up,right past me.

My heart stilled.

I waited for his eyes to meet mine. For that familiar grin. For a wave or a nod. Anything.

But he didn’t look at me.

He looked straight at her.

And then he started walking.

No..running.

Right to Marianne.

I stood slowly, legs stiff, movements mechanical. My gaze drifted to the pastries and the juice. He hadn’t even finished them. Half a cookie lay broken in the container. The juice bottle was still mostly full, condensation clinging to the plastic like a last trace of my hope.

My chest ached.

I picked up the box with trembling hands, stared at it for a second too long, then quietly set it back down on the bleacher where he’d left it.

He hadn’t said goodbye.

He hadn’t even noticed.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I turned away and started walking.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t cry. Not yet.

Each step felt hollow, like my shoes weren’t really touching the ground. Like I wasn’t really there.

Maybe if I walked slowly enough, he’d realize.

Maybe he’d look back, see the space I’d left behind, and call out my name.

Autumn, wait.

I imagined it, his voice, the guilt in his expression, the way he’d jog up to me, apologize, laugh sheepishly like it was all just a misunderstanding.

But all I heard was the fading sounds of celebration.

I reached the sidewalk.

Still nothing.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I stared down at the cracks in the pavement.

Just once, I looked back.

Just once.

And that was my mistake.

Because there he was.

Damian.

Right next to her.

He was smiling, still that same dazzling, breath-stealing smile. And then, as if the universe hadn’t punished me enough for daring to look, I watched his hand lift.

Watched him reach up to her face.

And gently, so casually it broke something in me, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

My breath caught, then left me all at once.

I turned away quickly, blinking furiously as the image burned itself into my memory.

That was our thing.

He used to do that when we were kids. When my hair got in the way during study sessions or when the wind messed it up during our walks. It wasn’t even romantic. Just… a Damian thing. A quiet, tender gesture that said, “I see you.”

And now he was doing it for someone else.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay. I wouldn’t cry here. Not on the same path we used to race down when we were younger. Not on the same walk where I once tripped and he carried my books all the way home.

No.

Not here.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, blinking up at the blue, indifferent sky. The sun was still shining like nothing had changed.

My legs carried me home, though I couldn’t feel them.

My mom was still by the porch when I returned, watering the potted plants like she hadn’t expected me back so soon.

She looked up, blinking. “Autumn? You’re back early.”

I nodded mutely and walked past her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m just… tired.”

She didn’t press. Moms never do when they know.

I went straight to my room, dropped onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

The silence wrapped around me like a blanket.

And still… I kept hoping.

Kept waiting for my phone to buzz with a text that read, Where’d you go?

But it didn’t.