Not Invisible Anymore

You weren’t supposed to stand out.

That was the rule you’d followed since forever, keep your head down, sit near the back, answer only when called on. It worked, people forgot your name sometimes and honestly, that made things easier.

Which is why this situation made absolutely no sense.

Because right now, she was walking toward you.

Karina. 

The Karina.

Everyone knew her—top of the class, student council president, effortlessly kind, and somehow even more effortlessly beautiful. People gravitated toward her like it was natural law. She had friends everywhere, admirers in every hallway, and a confidence that made even teachers pause.

And she was… stopping at your desk.

“Hey,” she said softly, like this was normal. Like your heart wasn’t trying to break out of your ribcage.

“Uh—hi,” you managed, staring at your notebook like it might save you.

“I noticed you always finish the assignments early,” she continued, leaning slightly closer. “Do you think you could help me with something after school?”

You blinked.

You? Help her?

“I—I mean… yeah if you want,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile widened, warm and genuine. “Thank you. I’ll meet you in the library, okay?”

And just like that, she was gone—leaving behind a stunned classroom and one very confused you.

—

The library was quiet when you arrived. Of course it was. It was your kind of place—safe, calm, predictable.

You picked a corner table, hoping maybe she’d forget.

She didn’t.

“Sorry I’m late,” Karina said, sliding into the seat across from you, slightly out of breath. “Student council meeting ran long.”

“That’s okay,” you said quickly. “I just got here.”

(You’d been there for fifteen minutes.)

She set her books down, but instead of opening them, she looked at you.

Not past you. Not through you.

At you.

“You’re always alone,” she said gently.

Your fingers tightened around your pen. “I like it that way.”

“Do you?” she asked, tilting her head.

You hesitated. “…It’s easier.”

She nodded, like she understood more than you said. “I get that.”

You almost laughed. She couldn’t possibly get it.

“I do,” she insisted, smiling a little. “People think being around others all the time means you’re not lonely. But sometimes it’s just… loud.”

That caught you off guard.

“Oh,” you said.

Silence settled between you—not awkward, just quiet.

Nice, even.

She finally opened her book. “Okay, help me with this before I fail something for the first time in my life.”

You let out a small, surprised chuckle—and that seemed to make her light up more than anything else.

—

After that, it became a routine.

Library. Same table. Same time.

At first, it was just studying. You explained things, she listened—really listened—and asked questions no one else ever did. Not to show off, but to understand.

Then it turned into small conversations.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked one day.

“…Read.”

“What kind?”

You hesitated. “…Romance.”

Her grin was immediate. “That’s adorable.”

“I regret telling you,” you muttered.