Edward
The final bell of the day rang—cutting through the low hum of voices in the classroom. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags zipped, conversations overlapped. I stayed seated for a moment longer than I needed to, watching the room empty itself.
"You ever planning to leave," one of my classmates named Adrian said, leaning against the desk beside mine, "or are you waiting for the room to clear out for you?"
"I'll leave," I replied.
"That's what you always say." Another voice joined in, amused. "You talk like you're doing us a favor."
I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "You're still talking." That earned a few laughs. They weren't offended. People rarely were. They just learned where not to push.
Outside, the air felt lighter, cooler. Groups split off in different directions, laughter spilling into the street like it always did after school. I scanned the crowd without meaning to and found Jack almost immediately. He stood with a few people from his section, quieter than usual. Not withdrawn. Just… tired.
"Hey," someone said to him, clapping his shoulder. "You coming tomorrow?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah. Probably." "Probably?" another teased. He smiled faintly. "Don't start." Our eyes met briefly across the space. No wave. No greeting. That was normal.
Then I saw them.
Casey walked a few steps ahead, Emily and Preeti on either side of her. They moved easily together, close enough that their arms brushed now and then. Emily was talking animatedly, her hands cutting through the air.
"I swear," Emily said, "if she does that again, I'm saying something." Preeti laughed. "You always say that."
Casey's voice was softer. "I just don't want things to get awkward." Emily scoffed. "They already are." I wonder what things she didn't want to get awkward.
They turned onto the same street I always took home. So did I.
I kept a steady distance, close enough to hear fragments, far enough to stay unnoticed.
"Your house is this way, right?" Preeti asked. "Yeah," Casey said. "Same as always." Emily grinned. "Lucky us."
Footsteps matched mine for a moment. Jack walked beside me, hands in his pockets.
"You heading straight home?" he asked. "Yeah."
"Same."
We walked in silence. Comfortable. Strained. Familiar in a way that didn't need explanation. His presence felt heavier than usual, his mood quieter.
Ahead, Casey slowed slightly, letting Emily finish her sentence before responding. She tucked her hair behind her ear while listening—absent, unconscious. I noticed it anyway. Emily said, "You overthink too much." Casey smiled faintly. "I know." Preeti added, "That's not always a bad thing."
Jack took the shorter turn without looking back, the one he always said saved time. I wondered if he chose it on purpose this time, just to avoid crossing paths with her. It didn't feel like indifference—more like restraint. Or maybe I was reading too much into it. "See you," he said.
"Yeah."
He hesitated, glancing ahead—at them—before turning away. I kept walking but I noticed anyway.
The street grew quieter as houses lined the road. Emily waved dramatically when they reached the corner. "Text us," she said. "I will," Casey replied.
Preeti bumped her shoulder lightly. "Don't disappear." "I won't," said Casey. They split off, laughter trailing behind them.
Casey continued alone.
So did I.
She didn't notice me then—or maybe she did and chose not to react. Either way, the distance between us felt deliberate, measured in steps rather than space.
When she reached her gate, she paused for just a second before going inside.
I walked past without looking back.
But the path home felt different than it had that morning—like something had shifted quietly, without asking permission.
By the time I reached home, the thought had already settled in, unwelcome and persistent. Maybe I'd talk to her tomorrow. Maybe I wouldn't. The idea felt reckless, unnecessary, like crossing a line I'd managed not to notice until now. I told myself it would be a mistake—something that would complicate things that were simpler left untouched. And yet, the thought stayed, quiet but insistent, as if some mistakes weren't accidents at all, but choices you saw coming and made anyway.