--
By the end of the week, Micheal noticed something had shifted.
Not sharply. Not loudly. Nothing that would make someone stop and say, this is important. It was more like walking into a familiar room and realizing the furniture had been moved just enough to throw off your balance.
Teema still waited for him after class. Still complained about teachers who talked too much and assignments that made no sense. Still smiled when she spotted him down the hallway, lifting a hand in that small, familiar wave.
But now, sometimes, there was someone else walking with them.
Daniel Fairburn.
The new transfer student had settled in faster than Micheal expected. He wasn't loud or flashy, didn't try to impress anyone. He listened, asked questions, and somehow remembered details people casually mentioned. Teachers liked him. Students were warming up to him in that quiet way that felt effortless.
Teema was just being kind. Micheal reminded himself of that often.
At lunch on Wednesday, Micheal arrived later than usual, the cafeteria already loud with overlapping conversations. He spotted Teema at their usual table and headed toward her—then slowed when he noticed Daniel sitting across from her, his tray barely touched.
"…and trust me, you do not want to get caught using your phone in his class," Teema was saying, shaking her head.
Daniel laughed. "Noted. He already scares me a little."
"Oh, hey, Mich," Teema said when she noticed him. "You missed the start of the story."
Micheal slid into the seat beside her. "I always do."
Daniel nodded at him. "She's basically been giving me the school survival guide."
"Someone has to," Teema replied lightly.
The conversation flowed easily. Micheal joined in when he could, but he noticed the small things—the way Teema explained inside jokes instead of assuming he already knew them, the way Daniel leaned forward when she spoke.
It wasn't wrong.
It just wasn't how it used to be.
After lunch, Micheal headed toward the field for football practice. As he cut across the courtyard, someone called out his name.
"Micheal!"
He turned to see a girl from the senior class jogging toward him. Her name was Liana—he recognized her from a few shared classes, though they'd never really talked.
"Hey," he said, slowing.
"I heard you're starting in Friday's game," she said, smiling. "That's impressive."
"Uh… yeah," Micheal replied, a little caught off guard. "I guess."
She laughed softly. "Don't look so surprised. People notice, you know."
Before he could respond, her friends called her back. She waved once more before leaving, leaving Micheal standing there, confused in a way that didn't feel unpleasant.
At practice later that day, he pushed himself harder than usual. The field smelled like grass and sweat, the late afternoon sun beating down on them. His coach shouted instructions, teammates clapped him on the back, and for a while, Micheal didn't think about Teema or Daniel or anything else.
Friday came faster than he expected.
The bleachers filled as the game started, cheers rising and falling with every play. Micheal scanned the crowd during warm-up, instinctively looking for Teema.
She wasn't there.
His phone buzzed just before kickoff.
> I'm so sorry, she texted. Daniel's having trouble with one of his classes and asked for help. I'll try to come later.
Micheal stared at the message for a few seconds, then locked his phone.
> It's okay, he replied. Good luck with that.
The game was rough, but Micheal played well. He scored once, assisted twice. The crowd roared, and when he glanced at the stands again, Liana was there, cheering louder than most.
After the game, she caught up with him near the lockers.
"You were amazing out there," she said. "I mean it."
"Thanks," Micheal replied, wiping sweat from his forehead.
She hesitated. "If you ever want someone to come watch again… you know."
Micheal smiled politely. "Yeah. Thanks."
That night, Teema called.
"I heard you played really well," she said. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks," he replied, lying on his bed.
"I'm sorry I missed it," she added. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Micheal said. And he did.
They talked about small things after that. Nothing heavy. Nothing serious.
But after the call ended, Micheal stared at the ceiling fan as it spun slowly above him.
Someone else had noticed him.
Someone else had shown up.
And yet, the person he wanted there hadn't been.
Across town, Teema closed her notebook and sighed. Daniel thanked her again, genuinely relieved.
"I don't know what I would've done without you," he said.
She smiled, but her phone sat face-down beside her, untouched.
Back in his room, Micheal picked it up again, typed a message, deleted it, then finally sent one.
> You free this weekend?
A pause.
> I think so. Why?
> Just asking.
He set the phone down, unsure whether he'd moved too late—or too early.
For now, all he could feel was the quiet pressure of small choices adding up.
---
The weekend arrived without any clear plans.
Saturday morning, Micheal woke up earlier than usual, the house still quiet. He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying the game in his head—the cheers, the brief moment where everything had felt simple. He rolled onto his side and checked his phone.
No new messages.
Downstairs, his mom asked about the match while pouring coffee. She smiled when he told her they'd won, ruffling his hair like she used to when he was younger.
"You should invite your friends over sometime," she said casually. "You're always in your room these days."
"Yeah," Micheal replied. "Maybe."
By noon, his phone buzzed.
> Sorry I went quiet yesterday. I slept off while studying 😭 —Teema
He smiled despite himself.
> It's fine. You alive now?
> Barely. You doing anything today?
Micheal hesitated.
> Not really.
> Daniel wanted to check out the park again. I might go with him for a bit.
The words didn't hurt. Not exactly. They just landed heavier than the rest.
> Okay, he replied. Have fun.
He tossed the phone onto his bed and grabbed his jacket. Sitting around wasn't helping.
At the convenience store near his street, Micheal ran into Liana again. She was buying snacks, earbuds hanging loosely around her neck.
"Hey, football star," she teased.
He laughed softly. "Don't start."
They walked out together, the sun warm overhead.
"So," she said, glancing at him, "you celebrating the win or pretending it didn't happen?"
"Somewhere in between."
She smiled. "You always this quiet?"
"Only when I'm thinking too much."
"Sounds exhausting."
"Yeah. It is."
They talked for a few minutes—nothing deep, nothing complicated. When they parted ways, Liana waved and said, "See you Monday."
Micheal realized something then.
Talking to her felt easy.
That scared him more than it should have.
---
Later that afternoon, Micheal passed by the park on his way home. He slowed when he saw Teema sitting on the grass near the path, shoes kicked off, laughing at something Daniel had said. Daniel gestured animatedly, clearly mid-story.
They looked… comfortable.
Micheal didn't stop. He didn't wave. He just kept walking, eyes forward, heart oddly calm and unsettled at the same time.
Teema noticed him a second too late.
"Micheal?" she called.
He turned.
"Oh—hey," he said, forcing a smile.
"You heading somewhere?"
"Just going home."
Daniel stood, offering a polite nod. "Hey."
"Hey," Micheal replied.
There was a pause—short, but noticeable.
"You wanna sit for a bit?" Teema asked.
Micheal glanced at the grass, then at his watch. "Nah. I'm good. I'll catch you later."
"Okay," she said. "Text me."
He nodded and walked away before she could say anything else.
Behind him, Daniel sat back down. Teema watched Micheal's retreating figure longer than she meant to.
---
That night, Micheal lay awake longer than usual.
His phone buzzed.
> Did I do something wrong? —Teema
He stared at the message.
> No, he typed. Just tired today.
The reply came quickly.
> You sure?
> Yeah.
He put the phone face-down.
Across town, Teema frowned at her screen, then locked it. Daniel noticed.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure.
---
Sunday passed quietly.
Homework. Laundry. Background noise from the TV. Micheal finished an assignment early, then sat there unsure what to do with the extra time. He almost texted Teema again—almost asked her to hang out.
Instead, he didn't.
Monday morning arrived with the usual rush. At school, Micheal caught Teema's eye across the hallway. She smiled and waved. He waved back.
Daniel walked up beside her a second later, saying something that made her laugh.
Micheal looked away, adjusting his bag strap.
At lunch, Liana sat across from him without asking.
"You ever smile?" she asked lightly.
"Sometimes."
"Good. I'll wait for one."
Micheal huffed out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself.
Across the cafeteria, Teema noticed.
She didn't look away immediately.
For the first time, the balance felt… different. Not broken. Not lost.
Just uncertain.
And Micheal, sitting there with a half-smile he didn't mean to show, realized something else.
Small choices weren't loud.
But they were happening all the same.
---
As the final bell rang that afternoon, Micheal packed his bag slowly, letting the classroom empty around him. Voices faded, chairs scraped, footsteps hurried past. When he finally stood, the room felt too quiet.
Outside, the sky was beginning to soften, clouds stretching thin and pale above the school buildings. Teema waited near the gate, talking to Daniel. When she saw Micheal, she lifted her hand in greeting.
He raised his own in response, then stopped a few steps away.
"Hey," she said. "You heading out?"
"Yeah."
Daniel checked his phone. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to Teema, giving them space before walking off.
For a moment, it was just the two of them again.
"You've been distant," Teema said carefully.
Micheal considered denying it. Instead, he shrugged. "I've just been thinking."
"About what?"
He met her eyes, then looked away. "About timing. About showing up."
She frowned slightly. "I'm still here."
"I know," he said quickly. "I'm not saying you're not."
They stood there, words hovering between them, unsaid but present.
"I missed your game," Teema said softly. "I really am sorry."
"I know," Micheal replied. And this time, there was no pause.
She nodded, like she wanted to believe him.
A bus honked in the distance. Students crossed the street in clusters, laughter rising and falling.
"I should go," Micheal said.
"Text me later?"
"Yeah."
They exchanged small smiles—familiar, practiced—and then Micheal turned away, adjusting his bag as he walked toward the bus stop.
He didn't look back.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because for the first time, he wasn't sure what he was hoping to see.
And somewhere between missed games, quiet conversations, and people who showed up when others didn't, Micheal understood something he hadn't before:
Some things don't end with a choice.
They end with a shift.
---