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The next morning, Claire felt it before she even stepped into the hallway. It was like a shift in the air, a weight that settled onto her chest the second she opened the door.
People were looking at her.
Not many, but enough. Enough for the whispers to begin, floating around her like a cloud of insects buzzing just above her head.
"Did you hear she and Liam talked yesterday?"
"Yeah, I bet she's into that quiet, brooding thing."
"I wonder what he sees in her. She's always hiding."
Claire didn't know if she should be mad or just exhausted. She had enough of people assuming they knew anything about her. The girl who never asked for attention. The girl who never wanted to be seen.
She didn't even make it to her first class without hearing it—behind her, beside her, too close for comfort.
She should've known. Of course, people would talk. It didn't take much—Liam, the most talked about guy in school, looking her way twice, and suddenly she was a mystery to be solved.
By lunchtime, it wasn't whispers anymore. It was full conversations. People she barely knew were mentioning her name in passing, their eyes flicking to her every few seconds like she was a puzzle they needed to figure out.
"Did you hear what happened with Liam?"
"I can't believe he's even talking to her. I didn't know she was his type."
Claire felt her pulse quicken. She kept her head low, hoodie pulled tight around her face, trying to fade into the background. But it didn't matter. Nothing about her would stay hidden anymore.
Then, in Bio, it happened.
A girl, one of the "popular" ones who usually avoided her, leaned over and asked casually, "So, are you, like, talking to Liam now?"
Claire's jaw tightened. So this is how it starts, she thought.
"No," she said, too quickly, too sharply. "Not like that."
The girl just shrugged and smiled like she wasn't concerned with the truth—she was just looking for something to gossip about. Something to pull her into the spotlight for a moment.
Claire could feel her pulse rising, her throat tightening. Every word she said, every attempt to push back felt like it wasn't enough. She wasn't invisible anymore. She wasn't hidden.
The bell rang. Claire grabbed her things and walked out before anyone else could say anything. But it didn't matter how fast she walked. The eyes were there, following her. The whispers were louder than ever.
By the time she made it to her next class, she was so close to losing it that she could barely stand it. The world felt too small, too suffocating. She ducked into the bathroom, hoping the silence would clear her head, but she couldn't escape the heat in her chest.
Her reflection stared back at her from the cracked mirror—eyes wide, face pale. She barely recognized the girl she saw.
And then she heard the door creak open.
Her heart stopped.
Liam.
Her first instinct was to turn and leave, but she couldn't move. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to hear him apologize or say something else that would make everything worse.
"Claire..." His voice was soft. "Are you okay?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. The words felt too heavy, too sharp. She couldn't let him know how much it hurt to be seen this way.
Liam took a step closer, his voice quieter now. "I didn't mean to… make things weird. I never thought people would talk."
She clenched her fists at her sides, heart pounding. "Then stop talking to me."
He stopped. For a moment, there was only silence between them, a strange space that felt too big, too full.
"I just thought you might… want to be noticed," Liam said, his words almost tentative, unsure.
She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want him to see how broken she felt in this moment.
"People don't notice me," she said, her voice small. "And I prefer it that way."
There was a pause. Then, a soft, "I'm sorry."
Her walls slammed back up, fast and sharp. She didn't want his pity. Didn't want his apologies.
She turned away, shoulders stiff. "Just leave me alone."
And then, before she could stop herself, she added, "Please."
For a long moment, there was no sound. But then, Liam's footsteps echoed quietly against the tile floor. He didn't say anything else. He just left.
Claire pressed her palms to her face, fighting back the tears. She couldn't let him see her fall apart. Couldn't let anyone see her like this.
When she finally opened her eyes, the reflection in the mirror looked the same as always—cold, guarded, and broken inside.
But now, she was more aware of the cracks. And they hurt more than they ever had before.
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