Chapter 2The Fifth Chair

The day of our graduation photoshoot, the campus turf felt like an oven.

I had just zipped up my graduation gown when I saw Ethan walking toward me, holding four bouquets of flowers.

Sunflowers for Liam.

White roses for Mason.

Pink tulips for Chloe.

He held a massive bouquet of baby's breath for himself.

I looked down at my hands.

Empty again.

Ethan followed my gaze, and the smile on his face faltered for a microsecond.

"The florist was running a bundle deal on four bouquets."

"I was originally going to buy yours separately, but things got so chaotic I completely forgot."

He looked around, spotted a bush of wild gardenias growing near the sidewalk, snapped a branch off, and handed it to me.

The stem was jagged, the leaves already drooping from the heat.

"Here. You love gardenias, right?"

Several classmates were already turning their heads to stare.

I didn't want to cause a scene and humiliate myself right before the group photo, so I took the flower.

Ethan immediately let out a massive sigh of relief.

"See? Problem solved."

When it was time for the group photo, Chloe stood dead center.

Liam adjusted the tassel on her cap.

Mason carefully tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Ethan knelt down and meticulously smoothed out the wrinkles in her graduation gown.

I stood off to the side, looking like a random stranger who had accidentally wandered into the frame.

The photographer waved his hand, yelling:

"Get closer!"

I had barely taken half a step toward Ethan when someone accidentally bumped into Chloe from behind.

Ethan's reflexes kicked in instantly. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her.

The camera flashed.

In the final, permanent photo, the four of them were tightly clustered together, holding each other.

I was standing exactly half a step away. An island.

After the photos, Liam pulled four custom graduation teddy bears out of a shopping bag.

Each bear was dressed in the graduation regalia of their specific major, with their names embroidered on the gowns.

Chloe's eyes lit up with pure joy.

"Liam! When did you get these?!"

"A month ago." Liam smiled, handing her a bear. "You said you wanted what everyone else had, right?"

I stared at the empty shopping bag in his hand.

"Where's mine?"

Asking that question out loud made me feel utterly, desperately pathetic.

Liam frowned.

"When I was placing the order, you never dropped your exact major concentration in the group chat."

"Do I really need to announce my major in a group chat for my own brother to know what it is?"

I asked, genuinely bewildered.

He choked on his words, unable to answer.

Mason immediately stepped in to run damage control.

"The vendor stopped taking custom orders weeks ago."

"Maya, you hate stuffed animals anyway. It would just gather dust in your room."

It was always like this.

If they forgot to buy me something, it was because I "didn't like it."

If they forgot to ask me, it was because I "didn't speak up."

They possessed an infinite arsenal of excuses to prove that my exclusion was always entirely my own fault.

That afternoon, the university unveiled the senior memorial wall.

Mason was the one in charge of curating the photos for our friend group.

Right in the dead center of the display, under the bold heading: [Four Years of Us], was a massive photo of the four of them standing under the cherry blossoms on campus.

A classmate who knew me walked by and asked, confused:

"Maya, aren't you best friends with them?"

"Why aren't you on the memorial wall?"

Chloe nervously twisted the hem of her gown.

Mason answered for her.

"Maya hates taking pictures."

Liam casually added, "She rarely shows up to group hangouts anyway."

I stood there, staring at them in absolute disbelief.

I hated taking pictures?

For the past four years, every single dinner, every single birthday, every single road trip—I was the one behind the camera.

Because they always told me I had the "best eye."

My camera roll was filled with thousands of photos documenting their growth from awkward freshmen to graduating seniors.

But there wasn't a single photo of me.

It wasn't that I didn't show up.

It was that the person standing behind the camera was never actually seen by the people standing in front of it.

That night, alone in my dorm room, I unclasped the matching couple's bracelet from my wrist.

The inside of the silver band had Ethan's initials engraved on it.

I had worn it for three years. It had left a permanent, faint indent on my skin.

I placed it in the very back of my desk drawer.

Just as I slid the drawer shut, Ethan texted me.

[Are you still throwing a tantrum over the flowers?]

[I literally picked a gardenia for you. Don't ruin today over a stupid flower.]

I stared at the glowing screen for a very long time.

Finally, I typed back two words.

[I'm not.]

Because a person who has genuinely decided to leave doesn't need to throw a tantrum to prove they were wronged.