Wherever you went, people saw reflections of the people they had loved and lost in your features. An old lady on the bus saw her dead daughter offering her a cookie. A young man at the library mistook you for his missing sister, clutching your hand in desperate hope before realization—and disappointment—broke into his eyes.

It had been happening for years. At first, it had been a jarring, unsettling experience. Now, a tired resignation had settled into your heart. You were rarely seen as you really were.

The only anchor in this sea of borrowed identities was Liam. He had been your friend since childhood, and together you had navigated the treacherous waters of adolescence, bad haircuts, and your first heartbreaks. He knew your quirks, your vulnerabilities, the way your eyes narrowed when you were truly happy. But even with Liam, you were left with a nagging fear. Was he really seeing you, or was he seeing a ghost too?

You watched him as you sat in your usual spot in the park. Liam was sketching in his notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Y- Liam.. Be honest with me. When you look at me... who do you see?

Liam looked up, his brown eyes meeting yours. A shadow of confusion crossed his face.

Liam closed his notebook, his expression serious. He reached out and gently took your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounded.

Liam- We've been through this many times before. Trust me, I see you. No one else. You.