The hospital was beginning to feel less like a maze and more like a second home. I knew the staff now—Dr. Yusef, the no-nonsense resident who secretly played jazz saxophone; Nurse Mari, who never let me forget my coffee cup at the nurses' station; and even Mr. Caldwell, the grumpy security guard who started calling me "Doc-in-progress."
But amidst the routine, life was shifting.
Sophie was officially preparing for her move to New York. I helped her sort through her clothes, listened as she debated whether to take her vintage record player, and tried not to let the sting of her absence settle too deep.
"You'll visit, right?" she asked as she packed her favorite coat.
"Obviously. I plan to raid your fridge and steal your shoes."
We laughed, but underneath it was a tremble of reality. Sophie wasn't just a friend—she was a chapter of my life. And her turning the page meant I had to, too.
Later that week, James asked me to meet him for dinner—not a date, just two people grabbing food after work. But I could tell he had something on his mind.
We sat in a quiet little Thai place near the hospital, the kind with flickering candles on each table and jazz music humming low in the background.
He didn't speak much at first. Just kept staring at his pad thai like it held answers to the universe.
Finally, he looked up. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"
I nodded.
"When you look at yourself now… do you recognize the girl you used to be?"
That question landed harder than I expected.
I thought about the girl in oversized sweaters, hiding behind her glasses and her textbooks. The girl who sat alone in cafeterias and avoided eye contact in hallways. The girl who, for years, thought being unseen was the safest place to exist.
"Sometimes," I said. "And sometimes she feels like a ghost."
James leaned back in his chair. "You know what I see?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see someone who grew into her own light. Someone who makes other people braver just by existing."
I didn't know what to say. Compliments from James always felt like rare gems—unexpected and deeply treasured.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Open it."
Inside was a photo. The three of us—me, Sophie, and James—at the fundraiser event months ago. I had no idea it had even been taken. I was laughing, my eyes squinting, cheeks flushed, head thrown back. Sophie was mid-silly pose, and James had his arm casually around both of us, smiling in that effortlessly charming way of his.
"I printed it for you," he said. "Because that was the moment I realized… you weren't invisible anymore. Not to anyone."
My throat tightened. I looked at the photo again.
This was proof. Of laughter. Of love. Of growth.
And yet, I still didn't know what to do with the feelings inside me.
Back in our dorm, Sophie was on a video call with her future flatmate. I stood in the hallway for a second, watching her smile and gesticulate wildly through the screen, imagining her life in New York and mine continuing here.
The next chapter was arriving fast.
And as the pieces of our lives moved into place, I felt something shift in me too—not fear this time, but quiet readiness.
Because the girl who once feared being seen… now knew exactly who she was becoming.