Graduation season.
Even the air felt different—like change had weight, like the campus knew it was almost time to say goodbye. Every step across the quad felt like tracing a memory. The trees were greener, the sky bluer, and laughter hung in the air like it didn't want to be forgotten.
Flyers littered the bulletin boards: Senior Class Send-Off, Commencement Rehearsals, Yearbook Signings, Grad Cap Decoration Night.
I had checked off nearly every box on my college bucket list. The invisible girl who once cried in silence after school was now a mentor, a scholar, a friend. I should've been thrilled. Proud. And I was.
But I was also terrified.
"It's happening," Sophie said as we sat on a picnic blanket near the music hall. "We're actually going to graduate."
She popped a strawberry into her mouth, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses, even though the sun had already begun to dip.
I laughed softly. "I keep thinking it's a dream. Like I'm going to wake up in the high school cafeteria, invisible again."
"Nope," she smirked. "You're the girl who just got nominated for the Dean's Rising Star award. And people actually listen when you talk now. Even James."
At his name, my heart did a gentle pirouette.
James had been… quiet lately. Not distant, just thoughtful. We still hung out as a trio, but he'd been asking more questions. About my plans. My dreams. My thoughts on life after college.
And he'd been… watching me. Like he was memorizing.
"Have you picked out your grad dress yet?" Sophie asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I shook my head. "Haven't had time."
"You mean you've been too busy overthinking everything again," she teased.
"Maybe."
I fiddled with a blade of grass.
Truthfully, part of me wasn't ready to let go—not just of college, but of this: the people, the routine, the way the world had finally opened up to me.
My phone buzzed.
James: "Can we talk later? Got something I want to share."
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. For a moment, a flicker of hope bloomed.
I typed: Sure. Just let me know when.
I didn't tell Sophie. I didn't want to guess anymore. I just wanted to feel.
⸻
Later that evening, I found myself walking past the main hall where the senior photo wall had gone up. Candid moments of classmates—laughing, crying, hugging, cheering at games, performing on stage.
My photo was there too.
Someone had captured me during the fundraiser talent night, mid-laugh, my eyes squinting, cheeks flushed with joy. I looked happy.
No… I looked visible.
"We really did it, huh?"
I turned and saw Zariah, the freshman girl I mentored, now standing with a beaming smile and her own accomplishments pinned to her chest.
"You helped me more than you know, Charlotte," she said.
I smiled at her. "You helped me too."
⸻
That night, I lay in bed listening to Sophie hum off-key to some 90s playlist while trying to organize her closet. My cap and gown hung by the door, the tassel swinging lightly.
I closed my eyes and whispered to the silence:
"I'm not the same girl who walked into this college afraid to speak."
And for the first time in a long while, I wasn't afraid of what came next.
Because the girl who once walked through high school halls invisible had become unforgettable.
And maybe… just maybe… her story was only beginning.