Chapter Text
Sophie always thought the girl would stay.
Even when everything else changed — classes, schedules, group dynamics — she thought the girl would always be there, sitting beside her, laughing at the little things, reminding her to eat, to breathe, to rest her brain from all the studying she piled onto it. The girl was always her shadow, her anchor, her fiercest protector in the loudness of the world.
She remembered those days when they’d walk the school corridors side by side, not even speaking much — just existing in the comfort of one another’s presence. The girl had this way of knowing when Sophie was overwhelmed, when the formulas and pressure got too much. She’d slip in quiet compliments, little jokes, her voice low and warm. "You’ll ace it like always, genius." It was never sarcastic. The girl meant it.
Sophie believed her, every time.
But time passed — classes changed. And suddenly, Sophie was spending more time with people who didn’t look at the girl like she did. They said things. Quiet things at first. Then louder. That the girl was controlling. That her voice carried too much weight. That Sophie didn’t need to cling to her anymore.
Sophie didn’t agree, not at first. But when the girl pulled away — just a little, just for a day — something in Sophie cracked. She felt abandoned. She felt... replaced, maybe. Or like she finally had room to think, and all those voices she’d tried to push aside came crawling back in.
So she told the girl it hurt. That her pulling away, even for a moment, was a betrayal. She let herself believe the version of the story that was easier to accept: that the girl had been unfair. That she had changed. That the others were right.
The girl apologized.
And Sophie wished, now, that she hadn’t. Because the way the girl said sorry — too quickly, too sincerely — it made Sophie feel like maybe she was wrong. Maybe the girl didn’t deserve to carry it all. But Sophie still brought her the words of the others. Still passed on the accusations. Still acted like she was the middle ground.
But every word Sophie carried, chipped away at the girl. And Sophie saw it. She saw the way the girl's smile turned softer, more uncertain. How she laughed a little less. How she stopped waiting for Sophie in the morning.
When the girl was gone — really gone — Sophie didn’t know what to do with the silence. There was no one to remind her to breathe, no one to hold her gaze across the room just to say I see you. And no one told her she was brilliant and kind in the same sentence anymore.
She missed her.
But more than that, she missed being seen the way the girl saw her. Like she was someone worth being close to. Like she was more than her grades. Like she was good.
Sophie didn’t know how to go back.
She didn’t know if she even could.
But some nights, when she stared at her textbooks and the world felt heavier than it used to, she wondered if the girl had only ever pulled away to breathe — not to hurt anyone.
And that maybe, just maybe… Sophie should’ve waited for her to come back.