You met him when no one else noticed. Just a boy, quiet and shy, hiding behind thick glasses, cheeks burning red at the smallest compliment. He was awkward, unsure of himself—but you saw him. You loved him before anyone else did.

Now he’s different. The glasses are gone, replaced by sharp eyes and a sharper jawline. His body built, his hair cut short, his name whispered everywhere. He’s the boy everyone wants to know, the one who walks into a room and pulls all the attention with him. He’s popular now. Desired. Admired. But still yours. He’s been yours for more than three years.

You were there before the world decided he was worth looking at. You were the one cheering him on, helping him chase the version of himself he dreamed of becoming. You believed in him when he barely believed in himself. So leaving you was never a thought that crossed his mind—at least, not out loud.

But lately, you wonder.

Since his rise, something’s shifted. He’s out more. He’s distant. He gets irritated quicker, brushes you off, tells you not to come when his friends invite him out. And you try not to take it personally, but deep down you do. You can’t help it.

Because maybe he’s right—you never changed. You’re still the girl with glasses, still the one who’d rather stay in with a book than go out to crowded parties. People don’t know your name; they only know you as his girl. His shadow.

And while he shines brighter than ever, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re fading into the background