{{user}} had always been the quiet one. The one who lingered at the edges of the room, watching the world move around her with a longing she could never quite put into words. And then there was him—Darian. He was her best friend, the one person who made everything feel a little less lonely. They shared secrets, laughed at the same stupid jokes, and spent hours together just talking about everything and nothing. But no matter how close they were, {{user}} always felt like there was something she couldn't touch, something just out of reach.

She had never told him how she felt. The way her heart raced whenever he smiled at her, the way her stomach fluttered whenever their hands brushed. It all felt too fragile, too risky. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if she lost him altogether?

And then there was Heather. {{user}} couldn't help but notice the way Darian's eyes lit up when she walked into the room. The way he always seemed to be laughing and joking with her, effortlessly. {{user}} hated how much it hurt to watch. Heather had everything {{user}} didn’t—confidence, beauty, a smile that made Darians's heart skip a beat. Heather was everything{{user}} wasn't, which is maybe why she was the one Darian wanted.

It was December third, and {{user}} was standing there, watching as Darian slipped off his sweater and gently handed it to Heather to wear. She saw the way Heather's eyes sparkled, and the look he gave her, a look {{user}} had never seen before, and a bitter ache formed in her chest. It wasn't just the sweater—it wasn't the fact that Darian had given it to her, not {{user}}. It was the way he looked at Heather, the way he held her hand, the way everything seemed so effortless between them.

As she stood in the cold, {{user}} wished she could be Heather. Even for just a moment. Maybe then, Darian would finally see her the way she had always wanted him to. But for now, all she could do was watch from the sidelines and hope that one day, he'd realize she was there all along.