I had always been that girl,
invisible in class, invisible on the campus grounds. No one ever seemed to notice my presence.
Honestly, as much as I hated to admit it, that ignorance hurt sometimes. A lot, actually.
"Have you seen the recent C-drama, Vincenzo?"
My friend Tracy nudged me, pulling me out of my trance. She pulled her phone from her pocket, the bright screen displaying When I Fly Towards You.
I smiled. "Of course I've watched it. I can't wait for the next episode. They always air in the evening," I said as we walked down the crowded hallway, our footsteps echoing lightly against the tiles.
Tracy immediately started talking about how obsessed she was with the main character and how incredibly handsome he looked. She described his sharp jawline, his charming smile, and the way he carried himself like he owned the world.
But me? I was already drifting away again. My mind wandered to thoughts that had nothing to do with drama or handsome actors. My thoughts wandered to the way I had always felt invisible, like a shadow that no one acknowledged. I sighed quietly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I forced a smile at Tracy's animated chatter.
We said our goodbyes at the school gate. She stayed in the dormitory, comfortably close to campus life, while I faced the daunting two-hour commute home. Long day? That was an understatement.
The bus was packed. I switched between multiple connections, feeling the slow crawl of the city through my window, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger. Finally, I arrived home, exhausted.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" I called as I slipped into my fluffy slippers, the soft fabric a small comfort against the chill in the air.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," Dad replied, eyes glued to his laptop while sipping his coffee.
"Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes!" Mom shouted from the kitchen, the scent of spices already drifting toward me.
I trudged upstairs to my room, peeling off my blazer and letting it drop onto the chair. My shoulders ached. Once inside, I stripped and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. I stood under the warm water for almost ten minutes before I even bothered to start washing, letting the sensation wash over me, letting it carry away the heaviness of the day.
Afterward, I slipped into my teddy-bear pajamas and jumped into bed, reaching for my phone.
Buzz. A notification lit up the screen.
Time to review your Chinese notes.
Of course. I had to keep my streak alive on my Chinese learning app, even if it meant dragging myself out of bed for another round of tones, characters, and pronunciation drills.
I lazily dragged myself to my study table, opened my notebook, and held my pen, ready to write in a foreign language that still sometimes felt like a puzzle I could never fully solve.
My major was Travel and Tourism Management, so being multilingual felt important,maybe not necessary, but important. Languages made me feel… powerful in a quiet, almost secret way. They gave me a sense of control in a life where I often felt overlooked.
And honestly, it distracted me from the painful truth that in real life, almost no one noticed me. Not really. Except my friend.
I have to admit, learning the language itself wasn't always fun. The tones were tricky, and some characters seemed impossible to remember. But the friends I had made on the app....people from across the world....gave me comfort. Even if it was all through a screen… at least it gave me something my real life never did: connection.
I studied for thirty minutes, focusing hard, mumbling the tones under my breath and carefully tracing each stroke in my notebook. My tongue tripped over pronunciations repeatedly, but I refused to give up.
"Dinner is ready," my mom's voice floated upstairs.
I walked down, expecting a warm family dinner. Instead, I found my parents halfway through their plates. Dad was still checking emails on his laptop while Mom fussed with her phone. I sat on my chair, eyeing the food. The beef steak glistened under the kitchen light, brunched vegetables perfectly arranged, and creamy mushroom sauce poured over the side. It looked… tantalizing.
I sliced the steak, smeared it with the sauce, and just as I was about to take a bite, a nutty smell hit me.
"Wait… Mom, does the sauce by any chance have nuts in it?" I asked cautiously, holding my fork mid-air.
"Yes, darling, I added some cashew powder to make it creamier," she said, not even glancing at me.
Mom, you know I'm allergic! Why would you incorporate them into the dish? I asked, placing my knife and fork down carefully.
"Oh, darling, I forgot. You can just have the brunched vegetables," she waved off her hand, eyes glued to some documents.
Forgot? Of course you did. Why am I even surprised? I'm not important to you—your work is all that matters. I snapped, grabbing a box of strawberry milk instead.
"Hey, sweetie, that's no way to talk to your mother," Dad's voice trailed behind me.
I slammed my bedroom door, sitting on my bed. I hugged my pillow tightly and screamed into it, releasing everything.
It had always been like this. Ever since I was a child, my parents had rarely paid attention to me. Both of them were busy running their own companies. I saw them once in a blue moon. Dad tried, but quality time was always interrupted by endless calls and urgent emails.
Of course, I had everything any girl my age could dream of. But my heart… my heart was hollow, craving that at least one person could notice me.
My phone buzzed. Tracy.
Should we binge-watch the C-drama together?
Of course, I would love that, I replied.
We watched together on a synced app, chatting in real-time about scenes, plot twists, and the handsome lead. For a moment, I forgot everything...the sting of being ignored, the frustration of being invisible. The screen gave me an escape, and for the first time that day, I smiled.
Finally, the episode ended. We said our goodnights. I sat on my bed, phone beside me, planner in hand, organizing tasks for the following day.
My phone buzzed again. I groaned. If it's Tracy again… I swear… I murmured, giggling to myself despite the warning.
I unlocked my phone. A notification popped up.
Li Wei sent you a friend request.
I stared at the screen, heart hammering. I had no idea that accepting that one request would change everything