John knew exactly who it was.

The moment those hands covered his eyes, the moment that familiar scent brushed past his nose—he knew. He had been hoping, almost praying, not to run into her today. But fate, as always, had other plans.

And now that she was here, there was no avoiding her.

A heavy sigh slipped from his lips as he reluctantly broke the silence.

John: Are you gonna let me see you or what?

A soft, playful chuckle sounded from behind him. She didn’t answer immediately, keeping her hands firmly over his eyes for a few extra seconds, just to tease him. It was just like her to drag out the suspense, to enjoy the power she had over moments like these.

Then finally, her fingers slipped away.

John turned around—and just as he’d suspected, there she was.

Rachel.

She stood with her weight shifted to one side, her arms now crossed casually over her chest. Her short, wine-colored hair framed her face perfectly, the soft strands catching the sunlight filtering through the window. But what stood out more than anything were her piercing blue eyes—bright, confident, and filled with that same mischievous glint she always had when she was up to something.

That smile didn’t help either. It was charming. Disarming. Dangerous.

Rachel: So what happened to your phone last night?

Her tone was light, but there was an edge to it—a mixture of curiosity and accusation.

Before John could even open his mouth to respond, two familiar voices jumped in.

Joseph: Yeah, that’s exactly what we asked him.

Ivan: Mhm. He’s been acting shady, and the timing is way too convenient.

John exhaled sharply, already feeling trapped.

Three against one. Fantastic.

John: I already told you, that’s not the case.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening.

Rachel: And why should we believe you?

John looked from face to face—Rachel, Joseph, Ivan. All three of them stared at him with exaggerated suspicion. It wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was definitely pressing. The kind of teasing that came from friends who knew you well enough to push buttons.

Unfortunately, they were pushing all the right ones.

John: (muttering to himself) Why isn't our teacher here already?

He leaned back in his seat, resisting the urge to hide his face in his hands. He wasn’t ready to explain—not because he had something to hide, but because the truth was too personal. Too complicated.

And he hated looking vulnerable.

As if the universe had finally decided to throw him a bone, the classroom door creaked open.

Their homeroom teacher entered—an older man with a permanent frown and a briefcase that looked older than the school itself.

The moment he walked in, the noise vanished.

The class moved like a well-trained flock of birds. Conversations cut short, laughter died down, and students scrambled to their seats. Books opened, pens clicked. Chaos became order.

John’s trio of interrogators scattered as well.

Ivan spun around in his chair and slid into the seat in front of John. He didn’t say anything this time—just threw a smirk over his shoulder before facing forward.

Joseph took his seat beside John on the right, kicking back slightly in his chair and offering a final, exaggerated “I’m watching you” gesture before grinning.

Rachel, however, had already made her way to the front of the room.

Her usual spot was just three desks away from the teacher’s desk, right up front, where she always sat with perfect posture and perfect notes—making it difficult to tell if she was the class rebel or the teacher’s favorite.

John shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

As the teacher began the lesson, chalk tapping against the board, John found his eyes drifting again—this time to the window.

The outside world hadn’t changed. The tree in the courtyard stood as tall and majestic as ever. Its thick trunk supported wide, sweeping branches, and its leaves danced gently in the wind like nature’s orchestra playing a peaceful tune.

Underneath it, the flower bed glowed in the sunlight, freshly watered and blooming with vivid colors. A few students wandered by, backpacks slung over one shoulder, laughter rising in the air.

John: (quietly to himself) Maybe I’ll actually go out there today. Just… sit for a while.

It wasn’t much. But the thought of a break—a real one—felt like a small sanctuary.

He allowed himself a few more seconds of silence, staring at the world beyond the glass, before finally turning his eyes back to the board and dragging himself into the lesson.

Even if his heart was still back at the tree.

*****

The lunch bell rang, and as expected, the school erupted into a chaotic mess of students and staff moving around. The air buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.

John navigated his way through the crowd, heading toward the school store where food and snacks were sold. 

He had skipped breakfast that morning, and his stomach was making sure that its discontent was known.

John: Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m hungry too, man.

When he finally reached the store, he was relieved to find only a few students in line. That meant he'd get his food quickly and still have time to meet up with his friends.

After selecting his meal, he paid using his PayBank account and was just about to leave when he ran into Rachel—again. 

Rachel: Oh, there you are. I thought you'd be with the others by now. 

John: I was heading there. Just needed to grab something to eat first.

Rachel smiled, adjusting the strap of her bag.

Rachel: I see. Well, since we're heading in the same direction, mind waiting for me while I get my stuff? 

John sighed but nodded.

John: Yeah, sure. Just don’t take too long.

Rachel smirked and disappeared into the store while John leaned against a nearby wall, waiting. His stomach growled loudly once again.

John: Be patient, will you? 

Soon enough, Rachel emerged, food in hand, and the two of them began making their way toward the courtyard. They wove through the sea of students, ensuring they didn’t lose each other in the crowd. 

Soon enough, they reached the school courtyard.

Students occupied various spots, some chatting in small groups, others sitting alone and observing their surroundings. Despite the number of people, the courtyard was spacious enough for movement, allowing John and Rachel to walk without trouble.

As they approached the giant tree in the middle, Rachel glanced at him.

Rachel: Hey, did you get enough sleep last night? 

John’s eyes widened slightly in shock.

John: Was it that obvious?

Rachel nodded.

John sighed. 

John: Yeah, I didn’t really get the rest I wanted.

Rachel: Was it because of your mother? 

John stiffened at the question but eventually nodded.

John: Yeah. She was doing her usual ‘stuff’ again—without any consideration for how it makes me feel. Honestly… it makes me sick.

Rachel’s expression softened.

Rachel: I’m sorry you have to go through all that. You know I’m here if you need someone to talk to, right?

John forced a small smile.

John: Yeah sure. (to himself) Yeah right. It's not like you'd understand anything. 

As they reached the tree, they spotted Ivan and Joseph waving them over.

John and Rachel joined them, and the four of them sat under the shade, eating their lunch together.

*****

Rachel Longworth. 

We’ve been friends since we were kids, and out of everyone, she’s the only one who knows about my situation with my mom.

Not because I told her—but because she happened to see my mother during one of her… escapades.

Ever since then, Rachel has stuck by my side. 

Almost like a sibling would.

Or maybe even a girlfriend.

But—

Even though she knows, I still can’t bring myself to vent about my life.

Not to her.

Not to Ivan.

Not to Joseph.

Wanna know why?

*******

The lunch bell rang, signaling the end of their break. The group stood up, stretching before heading back inside. 

John lagged behind his friends, lost in his own thoughts. Ivan, Joseph, and Rachel walked ahead, laughing at something Joseph had said.

John watched them, feeling that same familiar emptiness creep up inside him—one he had known for as long as he could remember.

That line—the invisible line that had always separated him from them—felt more prominent than ever.

Rachel, sensing his absence, turned around and noticed the distant look on his face.

Her expression faltered.

Ivan and Joseph followed her gaze, their laughter dying down.

Ivan: Hey man, you okay?

John blinked, snapped out of his daze.

John: Huh?

Joseph: You look kinda out of it. Are you good?

John: Um..yeah.

Ivan narrowed his eyes.

Ivan: You don't look okay…

John forced a small smile as he reached out and gave Ivan a light pat on the shoulder before walking past him.

John: It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get to class.

He walked ahead without looking back.

His friends followed, but that invisible line remained between them.

*******

The Reality of Their Worlds.

It’s way too different from mine.

Sometimes I wonder if we even live on the same planet. My friends—they talk about their families with laughter in their voices, stories filled with warmth, comfort, love. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But for me? That kind of normal doesn’t exist.

I don’t talk about my life with them because, honestly, they wouldn’t understand. Not really.

Ivan’s parents? They’re both award-winning authors. Their novels have been adapted into hit films, their names splashed across magazine covers and bestseller lists. And yet, no matter how busy they are, they always make time for him. Dinners at home. Family trips during the holidays. Birthdays celebrated together, not forgotten.

Joseph’s family? His mom runs a famous bakery that’s practically a national treasure. People line up for hours just to get a taste of her pastries. His dad owns the biggest hardware chain in the country, yet somehow, they’re both home every evening. They’re the kind of parents who show up at every school event, every soccer game, every moment that matters.

And Rachel?

Rachel’s parents are literal fashion icons—walked every major runway from Milan to New York. Their lives are fast-paced, glamorous, chaotic. But even with that, they never forget to tuck her little brother in at night. They still show up for parent-teacher meetings. Still make pancakes on Sunday mornings. Still call her just to say “I love you.”

They all have something I don’t.

A family that gives a damn.

A home that actually feels like a home.

But me?

I was just… born.

Not out of love. Not out of planning.

Just a mistake that happened one night.

My mom never wanted a kid—she made that clear enough. I’m not someone she raises. I’m someone she tolerates. At best.

There’s no warm dinner waiting for me at home. No game nights. No morning hugs. Just noise. Men I don’t know walking in and out. Whispers behind locked doors. The kind of silence that weighs too much. The kind of chaos that keeps you up at night and breaks something inside you every time.

So, no—I don’t tell them.

I don’t let them in.

Because how could they possibly understand what it’s like to feel… unwanted?

To grow up thinking you were a burden before you could even spell the word?

To sit at a table with friends laughing about family vacations and holiday traditions, and smile like you're not quietly falling apart inside?

Even when I’m with them—when we’re joking and teasing and pretending everything’s okay—

I still feel like a ghost.

Like I’m watching their lives from behind glass.

Like I’m not really one of them.

Even when I’m surrounded by my friends—

I’m still alone.

********

As the school bell rang at 3 PM, signaling the end of the day, students flooded out of their classrooms, laughter and chatter echoing through the hallways. Backpacks slung over shoulders, phones in hand, they rushed to meet up with friends, head to clubs, or make their way home.

Among the crowd were Ivan, Joseph, and Rachel, walking together toward the school gates. The golden afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the pavement as they strolled along, the energy of the day still buzzing around them.

But just as they were about to reach the exit, Rachel stopped in her tracks, scanning the courtyard with a curious glance.

Rachel: Hey… where’s John?

Ivan slowed to a halt and shrugged lazily.

Ivan: Dunno. I think he dipped early.

Joseph chimed in, adjusting the strap on his backpack.

Joseph: Yeah, didn’t you know? He left right after the bell rang. Said he had to be somewhere.

Ivan: Pretty sure it’s that part-time job again. Same place near his house—he’s always in a rush to get there.

Rachel’s expression shifted. For a second, a shadow of disappointment crossed her features. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but to her friends, it was enough.

She tried to shake it off, brushing a strand of her wine-colored hair behind her ear.

Rachel: Oh. Right. I forgot about that.

She gave a small shrug and started walking again, but her pace had slowed. Her voice was quieter this time.

Rachel: So uh… do you guys know where exactly he’s working?

Ivan glanced over at her.

Ivan: Yeah, he said he was doing cashier shifts at that little supermarket. The one like five blocks from his apartment. Kinda out of the way, honestly.

Rachel: I see.

Her eyes lingered ahead, unfocused. Something in her expression softened, almost wistful, but she didn’t press the conversation any further. Instead, she just nodded slowly, falling silent. Ivan and Joseph exchanged a glance but said nothing.

They all continued down the street, their chatter returning to lighter topics—but Rachel’s mind was elsewhere.

******

Meanwhile, John was already power-walking toward the supermarket, his thoughts scattered as he rushed to make it to his shift on time. He’d been in such a hurry that he’d practically run the entire way, the burn in his legs reminding him just how little time he had left.

As he reached the entrance, he paused to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the automatic sliding doors in front of him.

Then a sudden realization hit him like a slap.

John: You’ve got to be kidding me... I forgot to buy the earpods.