The stars were out that night—brilliant specks scattered across the navy sky like flecks of hope. Campus was unusually quiet, except for the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional hum of laughter from a far-off dorm. James and I walked side by side, not speaking at first. It was one of those nights where silence didn't feel awkward. It felt needed.
We were heading back from a late library session, one where we barely got any studying done but somehow shared more in a few glances and unfinished conversations than we had in weeks.
Just before we reached our dorm buildings, James paused. "Can we sit a while?"
I nodded. "Sure."
We settled on the wooden bench near the courtyard fountain—the same bench where Sophie and I once giggled over music and snacks during orientation. Now, I sat beside James, the air between us full of something unsaid.
He looked up at the sky for a moment, then spoke without looking at me.
"I think it's time I tell you something… about me. Something I never told anyone before."
I turned slightly, listening.
"You know how people think I have it all together? That I'm the golden boy—top grades, popular, confident, always smiling."
I gave him a small smile. "That's pretty much the image."
He chuckled softly, but it was hollow.
"It's not real. Most of it isn't, anyway. I've been pretending for years. Especially at home."
My heart stirred at the shift in his tone.
"My dad… he's not an easy man. Everything's a competition to him. He was a high achiever—Harvard, big business guy, perfectionist. And he expected me to be a carbon copy of him."
James paused, inhaling sharply.
"When I'd come second in anything, even by a point, he'd say things like, 'Close, but not quite.' Every time I saw your name above mine on a grade sheet, I could almost hear the disappointment before even showing him."
I swallowed hard. "James, I never knew—"
He shook his head gently. "You're not the problem. You were… the only thing that kept me sane. You were the one person who didn't try to compete with me, who didn't expect me to put on a show."
I blinked, stunned.
"In high school, I used to watch you from across the classroom. You'd just sit there, quietly doing your work, always focused, always calm. You didn't need anyone's approval. And I envied that. I needed approval."
"Me?" I said quietly, almost disbelieving. "But I thought you didn't even know I existed."
He finally looked at me, his expression raw and open.
"Charlotte… I always noticed you. I just didn't know how to approach you. You were the one person who made me want to be better—not to win, not to impress anyone—but to actually be better."
A lump formed in my throat.
"When my dad would criticize me, he'd say, 'Look at Charlotte—why can't you apply yourself like her?' I used to hate hearing it, but after a while… I started to respect it. Because you were the only person I couldn't fake it around."
I blinked back tears, overwhelmed.
"You helped me, Charlotte. Without even trying. Just by being you."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was electric. Thick with emotion, unspoken gratitude, and something… deeper.
I reached out slowly and took his hand in mine. He didn't pull away.
"I had no idea," I whispered. "I always felt invisible to you."
James let out a shaky laugh.
"You were the one person I never stopped seeing."
⸻
We stayed like that for a while—under the stars, two people who had walked through different storms and somehow found shelter in each other.
There were no confessions of love. No dramatic kisses. Just honesty, healing, and the beginning of something we didn't yet have a name for.
But I knew, deep in my heart, that I would never forget this night.
And maybe, just maybe, neither would he.