This is me—Alice Jackson.
The girl you probably noticed but never really noticed. The girl who blended into the background, who walked the corridors like a shadow—present, but unseen. But today, I decided, would be different. Today, I would make everyone notice me. Not because I was loud, or popular, or fearless—but because today I finally gathered the courage to speak the truth that had been quietly living in my heart for months.
Today, I was going to confess my feelings to Sam.
Sam.
The name alone made my heart stumble.
He was the kind of guy everyone admired effortlessly. Tall, confident, with a smile that could disarm even the most guarded heart. Good looks, a sharp brain, and a kindness that felt genuine—or at least, I believed it was. Almost every girl in our class had a crush on him. Some openly, some secretly. I was one of the secret ones. Or at least, I thought I was.
The first day I saw him, I wasn't falling in love. I was lost.
Lost in the massive college building, holding my timetable like it was written in some alien language, walking in circles while pretending I knew exactly where I was going. That's when he noticed me.He walked up, smiled softly, and asked if I needed help. His voice was calm, warm—safe. He didn't laugh when I explained my confusion. He simply took my timetable, glanced at it, and said, "You're going the wrong way. Come on, I'll take you."
He didn't have to. But he did.
We walked together, side by side, talking casually, and for a moment, I didn't feel invisible. I felt… chosen. I know it wasn't a big deal to him. Just a small act of kindness. But to me, it was everything. From that day onward, I noticed him everywhere—his laugh, the way he helped others, the way he carried himself with confidence yet ease. Somewhere between those moments, I fell in love.
Quietly. Deeply. Foolishly.
And today, I decided to stop hiding.
I stood in front of my mirror, heart pounding, staring at my reflection like I was meeting myself for the first time. I had chosen a red, shimmering knee-length dress. Red—bold, brave, dangerous. Everything I usually wasn't. It fit perfectly, hugging me just right, making me feel stronger than I actually was. I applied my makeup carefully, hands trembling slightly. A little eyeliner, soft blush, and lipstick that matched my dress. I didn't want to look perfect. I just wanted to look confident.
When I reached college, the air felt heavier, like it knew what was coming.
Music was playing loudly in the open area. Laughter echoed everywhere. And then I saw him.
Sam was standing there, surrounded by girls—laughing, joking, completely at ease. They hovered around him like bees around honey. That's the curse of being good-looking, I thought bitterly. I felt a flicker of doubt creep in. What was I doing? Did I really belong there, in that moment, with him?
But I had come too far to turn back.
I took a deep breath and walked toward him, every step feeling like I was walking into a storm. I reached out and gently placed my hand on his shoulder.
He turned.
And smiled.
That smile—the one that had lived rent-free in my heart—was now directed at me. It boosted my confidence instantly. For a second, I believed everything would be okay. My heart raced, my chest tightened, and before fear could stop me, I blurted it out.
"I like you, Sam. I've liked you for a long time."
My voice was loud, clear—cutting through the music, cutting through the crowd. Silence followed. Time froze.
I had done it.
But then… he laughed.
Not a soft laugh. Not a nervous one.
He laughed loudly. Cruelly.
His friends joined in. Then the girls. Then everyone around. The sound surrounded me, drowning me, crushing me. My brain struggled to understand what was happening.
And then he said it.
"She actually fell for it," he said between laughs. "I told you guys she'd confess."
My heart dropped.
"It was a bet," someone added.
A bet.
Those two words shattered something inside me. Everything made sense now. The kindness. The attention. The smile. It wasn't genuine—it was strategy. A game. Entertainment.
Sam looked at me like I was a joke. Like my feelings were nothing but a punchline. He mocked the way I spoke to him, the way I looked at him, the way I existed around him. Every moment I had cherished—he destroyed in seconds.
My love wasn't love to him.
It was comedy.
Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear. Instead, I turned around and walked away, each step heavier than the last. The laughter followed me, echoing in my ears, burning itself into my memory.
I don't remember how I left college.
I don't remember how long I walked.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting alone in a famous club, lights flashing, music pounding like my broken heart. A glass of strong whiskey sat in front of me. I didn't even remember ordering it. I took a sip. Then another.
The burn in my throat felt right.
Pain I could understand.
As the alcohol settled in, my tears finally fell—silent, unstoppable. I stared into the glass, seeing the reflection of a girl who had believed in love, in kindness, in people.
A girl who learned, in the cruelest way possible, that courage doesn't always lead to happiness.
Sometimes, it leads to heartbreak.
And tonight, I drank to forget the girl I was—because after today, I knew Alice Jackson would never be the same again.