The best man

Chapter 2

After a brief silence, I finally spoke :
Everything began in 2010. I was 19 years old, freshly starting university, and trying to navigate a world that felt bigger than anything I had ever known. My dorm room, a beautiful space that I was determined to make my own, became my little sanctuary. I decorated it with butterflies and comic drawings on the walls, bringing color to the otherwise blank space. I filled my shelves with novels and comics I had collected over the years, and arranged my clothes in the closet—clothes that my mom had helped pack, a rare moment of connection between us.

Even in this new environment, it was hard to find friends. I was never one to immediately bond with people, so I kept to myself—reading, taking walks to the park, doing all the things I had grown used to doing alone. But despite my solitary nature, I longed for friendship, that unspoken bond you could see between people who just *clicked*. I wanted that more than anything.

As you know, Amelie, I'm the middle child, and I always felt invisible, lost between the louder personalities of my siblings. My parents didn't see me the way they saw them. I wasn't congratulated for my achievements, nor was I truly appreciated. I was tolerated, nothing more. Growing up in the shadows like that makes you crave connection, but at the same time, it teaches you to live without it.

From the window of my room, I often watched groups of friends sitting on the grass, picnicking, laughing, playing games. I loved watching them, even though it felt like I was seeing something I could never be a part of. It was comforting in a way, knowing that friendship existed, even if it wasn't mine to have.

And then, there was that famous day—*the* day I saw Conor for the first time. He was 20 at the time, a year older than me, but he seemed to carry himself with the confidence of someone far more experienced. I still remember exactly what he looked like. He was tall, towering over the crowd, his fit frame hard to miss. His semi-long blond hair had that slightly disheveled look, like something straight out of a 70s movie. He wore a blue jacket, a simple t-shirt underneath, blue jeans, and white sneakers. There was something so charismatic about the way he moved, how he seemed to own every room he entered.

He had burst into class late that day, drawing all the attention in the room. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but until that day, I hadn't even noticed him. Somehow, despite the fact that we'd been in the same space for who knows how long, he hadn't existed to me. But that day—he was *unmissable*. Something about him just...caught my attention, as if my eyes had finally opened. From the moment I saw him, I was captivated.

What struck me even more was how different he was from me. He exuded this energy, this confidence that made people gravitate toward him. I was the complete opposite—quiet, introverted, always keeping to myself. Maybe that's why I was so drawn to him. He was everything I wasn't.

Later that day, Conor and James, another guy from class, organized a party. I remember overhearing them talk about it with so much enthusiasm. The party was for the entire class, and although I had never been the type to attend social gatherings, especially ones hosted by people my age, this was different. It was my chance to step out of my comfort zone. I wasn't like the others who had been invited to school events before—I was always the one left out. So this invitation, even though it wasn't personal, made me feel included, part of something for once.

I was nervous, but excited. The thought of being in a room with my classmates, where maybe, just maybe, I could fit in, thrilled me. But if I'm honest, the real reason I wanted to go was Conor. I just wanted to see him again, even if it was from afar. That night, I didn't expect to talk to him—I didn't expect anything. I just wanted to be in his presence, to admire him from a distance. For me, that was enough.