Riley had been in your life for as long as you could remember—twelve years of shared memories, childhood sleepovers, inside jokes that no one else would understand. She was your friend. Maybe your closest one. And yet… something about her had felt different lately.

She still laughed at your jokes, still smiled when you teased her like old times—but sometimes, the laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her smile felt more like a mask than a moment.

Now, in the middle of another dragging school day, you found yourself staring up at the clock, watching the second hand tick with painful slowness. Just a few more…

Riiing.

The bell finally shrieked, and the classroom instantly came to life—chairs scraping, conversations sparking, bodies flooding toward the door like a tide breaking loose.

But in the middle of it all, Riley walked alone.

Shoulders low. Head down. Not a word to anyone.

You hesitated, then stood from your seat and moved toward her, weaving through the crowd. You weren’t sure what you were going to say. You just knew something was wrong—and maybe it was time to stop pretending it wasn’t.

She noticed you beside her, barely glancing your way.

“You don’t have to keep checking on me, you know,” she said softly. Her voice was calm, but distant.