Valentine's Day had finally arrived, and the entire campus buzzed with excitement. Red and pink decorations draped every hallway, and soft romantic music floated through the air. The big Valentine's Day party was in full swing at the auditorium — laughter, chatter, and the occasional squeal of excitement from couples filled the room.
Backstage, my hands trembled as Sophie gave me one last reassuring squeeze.
"You've got this," she whispered.
I took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. The spotlight hit me like a warm wave, and suddenly, all the noise faded into a quiet hush. I scanned the audience and there he was — James — sitting casually in the front row, looking effortlessly handsome, with that crooked smile I'd secretly adored for years.
My heart thundered, but I forced myself to speak.
"James," I began, voice wavering but determined, "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I like you — more than just as a friend. You've always been someone I admired, even back in high school, and… I hope you feel the same."
A silence fell over the room. My chest tightened. All eyes were on us.
James stood slowly, a polite smile on his face — but not the smile I'd hoped for.
"Charlotte," he said, voice calm but firm, "I'm really flattered. You're amazing, and I'm glad we're friends. But I don't see you that way. I never have."
The room erupted — some people laughed, others whispered, and a few gasped.
I felt Sophie's hand squeeze mine, but even that small comfort couldn't stop my cheeks from burning with embarrassment.
Someone in the crowd chuckled, then another laugh followed, growing louder. The kind of laughter that stings and makes your skin crawl.
James shrugged, clearly unbothered by the scene. "Honestly, I think you're awesome, but just not like that."
The crowd laughed again, and I wished I could vanish into thin air.
Without another word, James turned and walked away through the laughing crowd, his friends trailing behind him like a protective shield.
I stood frozen, the noise crashing around me. I had never felt so small, so exposed.
Backstage, Sophie wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug.
"Forget them," she whispered fiercely. "You're so much stronger than this. And you're not alone."
Tears pricked my eyes as I nodded, grateful for her unwavering support.
Later that night, I sat alone in my dorm room, replaying every moment. The sting of rejection burned deep, but somewhere beneath it, I felt a flicker of something else — the first spark of knowing I could survive this.
Sophie knocked and came in quietly, sitting beside me.
"We'll get through this," she promised. "Together."