The PE period ended with the long, echoing sound of a whistle, and students poured out of the gym, tired and sweaty, towels draped over shoulders, energy buzzing through the air.
Lily walked behind the group at her own pace.
Her body was sore, her legs trembling faintly with every step. The ache was deep in the muscles — but it was honest pain. Earned pain.
And Ethan, inside her, held it like a quiet victory.
Changing back into the school uniform was slower than usual. She moved carefully, her joints stiff and her breath still shallow. Her fingers shook a little as she buttoned the blouse, but she managed without help.
As she stepped out of the locker room, she heard it.
A voice from down the hall:
"Lily-chan! That was awesome during the run!"
Another chimed in.
"Didn't think you had that in you, honestly!"
A small group of classmates was waiting by the door, some boys, some girls — all smiling, eyes bright with something new.
Respect.
One girl clapped lightly. "You were really pushing yourself back there. That takes guts."
"I thought you were gonna faint, but you just kept going!" a boy said, his tone somewhere between impressed and embarrassed. "That was… cool."
Ethan blinked inside her — stunned for a second.
These were the same students who had whispered behind her back only days ago. Who saw her as the quiet transfer girl, a little distant, a little too mysterious. Pretty, yes — but untouchable.
Now they were looking at her differently.
Not just as Lily the beautiful new girl.
But Lily, the one who didn't give up.
She gave them a small smile. "Thanks. I was just trying to finish."
"You really did," someone said from behind.
Lily turned — it was Riku, a soft-spoken boy from the back row. He scratched his cheek awkwardly. "You were, like, last. But somehow it didn't feel that way."
The group laughed, not unkindly, and Lily laughed too — quietly, but real.
They started walking back to class together. It was strange, being surrounded by people like this. People who wanted to walk beside her, not just admire from afar. She didn't say much — Ethan never had been a talker in big groups — but she listened. Listened and absorbed.
And for once, she didn't feel like a ghost.
She felt… seen.
Back in Class, the room was alive with post-PE chatter. The air smelled faintly of heat and deodorant, window panes catching soft afternoon light.
When Lily entered, the classroom quieted slightly — then picked up again in waves of low whispers.
"She really ran the whole thing…"
"Didn't even complain."
"I bet she used to do track."
She took her seat by the window.
No one crowded her. No one pushed. But several eyes turned toward her with new interest — not infatuation, not pity. Something else.
Ethan couldn't name it exactly.
But it felt like acceptance.
And for someone who used to live on the other side of the glass, watching life go by in a wheelchair — it meant everything.
As the teacher entered and called for quiet, Lily glanced down at her hands resting on the desk.
Small, pale, strong in ways no one could see.
And deep inside, Ethan whispered, not to himself — but to Lily:
"You're still with me. They're cheering for you too."