𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚

Venue: Graduation Ceremony

The applause still echoed faintly in my ears as I stepped off the stage, my fingers trembling slightly beneath the smooth fabric of my graduation cape. The crowd clapped with practiced smiles, their cheers swirling around like a passing breeze. I had just delivered the valedictorian speech—first rank in the entire university. A moment that was supposed to feel victorious. Celebrated. Special.

But all I could think was—did they really see me?

Had they ever?

The answer haunted the edges of my thoughts even as I forced a smile, walking stiffly across the steps.

No. They never had. And I knew deep down, they never would.

On the surface, I must have looked calm, collected—composed, even. But inside, a storm brewed. My nerves twisted. My heart pounded louder than the claps. Every step I took away from that podium felt heavier than the last.

And there he was.

Mathew.

Tall, effortlessly charming, with that smile that made everything around him seem warmer. The kind of man who didn’t just walk into a room—he owned it. The air shifted when he was near, bending quietly to his presence. My eyes found him through the crowd like a compass needle pulled north, and my heart, traitorous as ever, skipped.

In my hands was the small bouquet—roses. His favorite. I knew that. I had memorized more about him than I ever admitted to anyone. My fingers clenched around the stems, and in my head, the lines I’d rehearsed played on a loop.

"Just do it," I whispered to myself, barely audible under the laughter that filled the campus lawn. "Just tell him."

But the words felt heavier now, almost foreign.

I took a deep breath, air sticking to the back of my throat. My feet began to move, hesitant but determined, weaving through clusters of joyful graduates taking selfies, hugging, crying, and laughing together—freezing their final university memories in bursts of shutter clicks.

It should have felt magical.

For them, maybe it did.

But for me—it only felt like a reminder of what I never had. In four years of campus life, I had only ever made one true friend. Just one. While everyone else built circles of support and love and laughter, I had her.

Lara.

She was always surrounded by people, adored, included in everything. And though a part of me longed for that kind of easy connection, I had always been content with her friendship. Or at least, I had convinced myself I was.

Wasn’t I?

Pushing the ache back down, I spotted him again—Mathew—standing alone for a moment near the tree by the stone arch. A perfect moment.

I walked closer, each step trembling with emotion and hope. When I was just a few feet away, I stopped and bit my lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"Mathew..." I called softly, heart pounding so hard I feared he might hear it.

He turned to me, eyes gentle, smile easy.

I held out the bouquet with shaking hands and smiled nervously. “I like you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

For a second, the world seemed to still.

He took the bouquet.

And he smiled.

My chest swelled. Hope bloomed like spring in my heart. My breath caught—I couldn’t believe it. He was accepting me.

But before I could speak again, he turned. Not to walk away. Not to smile at me.

He turned to Lara.

My breath hitched as I followed his gaze.

She stood there, radiant as ever, her graduation gown hugging her perfectly. She laughed at something he whispered, her hand brushing his arm like it belonged there.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in closer to her. She tilted her head, nodded shyly, and... kissed him.

Right there. In front of me.

My entire body turned to ice.

She knew. She knew how I felt about him. How long I’d loved him in silence. How many nights I had confided in her, poured my heart into vulnerable whispers. She knew everything.

And still, she kissed him.

She stole the very dream she used to smile about with me.

My hands trembled. The degree roll I had clutched so tightly slid from my fingers and hit the grass with a dull thud. My vision blurred as tears welled up, stinging like acid.

I turned away.

And walked. Nowhere. Just away.

I remembered when I first told Lara that Mathew had asked me for help with his assignment.

She had laughed. “Who knows, maybe the assignment was just an excuse. Maybe he wanted to spend time with you.”

She wiggled her brows in that teasing way of hers, and I had laughed along, heat flooding my cheeks.

“Shut up,” I’d said, playfully slapping her arm. “It was just work.”

But in my heart, I held onto her words like treasure.

Hope bloomed then—fragile and foolish.

I had always liked Mathew. From day one. His quiet confidence, the way he talked with purpose, how he listened—really listened. Everything about him had drawn me in.

I had thought Lara was rooting for me. My only friend, my closest confidante.

But now, I couldn’t help but question everything.

Back then, she’d interrupted my dreamy silence. “Hey, I want to borrow a dress for a date. Can I, Sophie?”

I blinked, pulled from my thoughts. “Huh?”

She laughed. “Daydreaming about Mathew again, huh?”

I’d blushed, completely exposed.

She walked to my closet with that same confidence, pulling out options like she owned them.

“Take whatever you like,” I’d said with a smile, happy to share, happy to help her look beautiful.

That was the kind of friend I believed I was.

---

But now... all of it felt like a lie.

Where I gave, she took. And kept taking.

Until there was nothing left.

That night, my parents flew in from Chicago. They came as soon as they heard. We weren’t a perfect family. But there was always enough love to survive, enough understanding to stay afloat. Still, this time... even they didn’t know how to fix me.

I couldn’t hear their words, not really. Everything felt muted. Distant.

My phone kept buzzing—one notification after another. My name. My face. That moment.

Someone had recorded it.

My confession. My humiliation.

Now it was a meme.

A joke.

People laughed. People shared. Even strangers tore into the most vulnerable moment of my life like it was entertainment.

I stared at the videos. My hands shook. My vision blurred with tears. My body collapsed onto the bed, the pain curling deep in my chest like coiled barbed wire.

I shut my eyes and screamed into the pillow, fists pounding the mattress.

The shame was unbearable.

I wanted to vanish. To dissolve into nothing. I wanted it all to stop.

I cried until my throat burned and my eyes could shed no more.

---

A month passed.

Each day was a quiet, brutal survival. I couldn’t step outside without a mask or hooded jacket. People recognized me too easily. The whispers started the moment I entered a room. The stares. The cruel laughter.

No one let me forget.

One evening, I opened Instagram, intending to block Lara. But my thumb slipped and opened her story highlights instead.

And there it was.

The fire lit again—hot, blazing, unrelenting.

It wasn’t just their selfie. It was her dress.

My dress.

Not just one. Multiple pictures. All in my clothes.

The dates... dated back a year.

She had been with him for a year.

All this time—while she smiled at my stories, listened to my hopes, encouraged my fantasies—she was dating him. Wearing my clothes. Laughing behind my back.

Every single moment we shared twisted into something poisonous.

The betrayal cut deeper than I thought possible.

Screaming, I hurled everything within reach—books, candles, trinkets. A heavy antique slammed into the vanity mirror, shattering it into a thousand jagged reflections.

And there, among the wreckage, sat the book.

The one she gave me.

Bound in cracked leather. No title. Just a strange symbol: three stars inside a circle.

I had read it like a prayer. Not because it was my kind of book, but because she had given it to me. Now it looked back at me, untouched by the chaos.

I wanted to burn it. To rid myself of anything that carried her memory.

I kicked the table.

The lit candle rolled, fell, and landed against the curtain.

Flames caught.

They spread like wildfire.

I tried to stop it. But my reaction came too late.

Smoke filled the room. Heat blistered the air.

I stumbled back, coughing violently, vision swimming. I reached for the door. But flames closed in. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air that no longer existed.

This... was it.

This was how it ended?

But then... in the smoke and fire... I saw it.

The book.

It wasn’t burning.

It was glowing.

Golden mist seeped from its pages like ink in water. The symbol pulsed—throbbing with strange life.

My vision dimmed. My body heavy.

Everything turned quiet.

I closed my eyes, and a single thought echoed in my fading mind.

Please... just one more chance.

To live.

To live right.

To live for me.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

And then—

Everything turned white.

---

𝙏𝙤 𝘽𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙

You can read this story in wattpad too. My account name is Arora_Smith07