Zendaya Wilson stared at her phone, heart thumping in her chest. Another message from Ransford Adams. She hesitated before opening it, fingers trembling. Every time she saw his name light up her screen, something twisted painfully in her stomach.
She had fallen for him long ago—her university senior, tall, charismatic, and impossibly charming. He had that smile that made her believe he could love anyone… even her.
But he didn't love her.
At least, not the way she loved him.
Ransford's eyes were always on Beatrice—her best friend. Every joke, every laugh, every casual glance seemed meant for Beatrice alone. Zendaya had tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it didn't hurt. But it did. Every single day.
She sat in the library, pretending to read notes she barely understood, while Ransford leaned against the table across from them, chatting with Beatrice. His easy laughter made Zendaya feel invisible, like she was just a shadow that followed him around.
"Zendaya, are you coming to the cafeteria later?" Beatrice asked cheerfully, not noticing the way Zendaya flinched at the mention of Ransford.
Zendaya forced a smile. "Yeah… maybe," she said softly, eyes fixed on her notebook.
Ransford, of course, noticed her quiet mood immediately. He tilted his head, watching her, but it wasn't concern in his eyes. No, his attention was always elsewhere.
Zendaya closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Why did she let herself get so attached? She had known from the start that Ransford's heart belonged to someone else. Yet here she was, drawn to him like a moth to a flame she could never touch.
After class, she walked home with a heavy feeling in her chest. Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at it and froze. Another message from Ransford.
"Hey, come by later. I need you."
Zendaya's stomach sank. That was how it always started—him making her feel like she mattered, giving her small bits of attention she longed for, only to vanish when it counted. She had tried to tell herself she deserved better, but it was hard when he made her feel like she was the only one who understood him.
She ignored the message and shoved her phone into her bag. She didn't need the reminder that she was always the second choice. She wasn't Beatrice. She never would be.
The next day at university, Ransford's attention was on Beatrice again, as usual. Zendaya walked into the common room and felt her chest tighten. He was laughing, his hand brushing against Beatrice's as they shared a joke. Zendaya had learned to swallow her feelings, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
During lunch, Beatrice leaned in close to Zendaya. "He likes you, you know," Beatrice said teasingly, unaware of the pain her words caused.
Zendaya blinked. "He… what?"
Beatrice shrugged, smiling innocently. "I mean, sometimes I think he enjoys having you around. You make him laugh… you know, in your own way."
Zendaya forced a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. She wanted to believe Beatrice. Maybe she had imagined all the other moments when Ransford seemed to notice her, when she thought he cared. Maybe he did like her… in his own way. But deep down, she knew better.
Every time Ransford smiled at Beatrice, her heart broke a little more. And yet, she stayed. She stayed because loving him felt like breathing, even if it was suffocating her.
That evening, Zendaya sat by her window, staring at the dark sky. Her reflection in the glass looked pale and tired, but there was something in her eyes—something determined. She realized that if she didn't stand up for herself, she would lose who she was entirely, swallowed by a love that could never be returned.
"I can't keep doing this," she whispered to her reflection. "I deserve someone who sees me… who really sees me."
Little did she know, someone in her life was about to change everything. Someone who would look at her not as a shadow, not as a placeholder, but as the person she truly was—worthy, loved, and enough.
For now, though, she let herself feel the heartbreak. She let herself grieve the love that could never be hers. And in the quiet of her room, Zendaya made a silent promise: she would survive this. She would heal. And one day, someone would love her enough that she would never have to doubt it again.