Invisible Threads

Aicy’s Choice (Yuri’s POV)*

Lunch had changed.

It wasn’t just Aicy and me anymore.

It wasn’t just teasing remarks, stolen fries, and the comfortable rhythm of our conversations that I had grown used to.

Because now, Bea was there too.

And that changed things.

It wasn’t intentional. Aicy wasn’t doing it on purpose, but lately, she had been spending more time with Bea. Lunches were split between sitting with me and sitting with the girls, and each time Aicy chose a different table, I felt something off—something I wasn’t naming, wasn’t acknowledging.

I was fine with it.

I should be fine with it.

But when Aicy laughed at something Bea said—a real, genuine laugh—I found myself gripping my fork a little tighter.

Why?

It wasn’t my business. Aicy was free to talk to anyone, to laugh with anyone, to sit anywhere she wanted.

So why did it feel like something had been taken from me?

Avoiding the Question

Aicy was persistent.

She had always been the kind of person who noticed things, who poked and prodded until she got a reaction. But lately, I had been busy—or at least, that was the excuse I told myself.

Like today.

She walked into class mid-sentence, already talking before she even reached her seat.

"So," she said, grinning as she dropped her bag onto the desk beside mine. "You’ll never guess what happened this morning—"

I didn’t look up.

My pen moved steadily across the page, pretending to focus, pretending I wasn’t listening.

"Mm," I muttered.

That was all I said.

Aicy blinked. "Mm? That’s your response?"

I flipped the page. "I’m writing."

She scoffed. "Oh, and writing prevents you from speaking now?"

I kept my gaze down, kept my hand moving. If I acted busy, maybe she wouldn’t push.

She tapped a finger against my desk. "Okay, you’re ignoring me."

"I’m busy," I murmured.

That wasn’t true.

She crossed her arms, staring at me. "Did I do something?"

Finally, I glanced up. "What?"

"You’re being weird," she stated. "It’s like you’ve been busy every time I—"

Before she could finish, Bea’s voice cut through the room, calling Aicy’s name.

Aicy turned her head immediately, her attention shifting.

And before she looked back, I was already retreating—eyes down, pen moving, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing.

I didn’t watch her go.

I didn’t watch her choose to sit with Bea.

But for some reason, I felt it anyway.