He’d Marry Me Only If His Friends Gave Me a Perfect Score, So I Quit the Game Chapter 08
Later, Claire wrote me an apology letter.
Not the one the school required. One she wrote on her own.
She said she’d always thought I was too sensitive because I kept my head down, wore glasses, and spoke so quietly. She had assumed that no matter how far the jukes went, I would eventually put up
with them and let everything slide.
She also admitted that she enjoyed being the person everyone fussed over first.
More than anything, she enjoyed knowing that even when I was right there, Ethan would still
choose her before me.
She wrote:
“I always said I saw you as a friend, but I never really stopped to think about how you felt. It wasn’t until everything got out of hand that I realised those so–called jokes only worked because I thought you’d never push back.”
When I finished reading it, I put the letter away.
I didn’t reply.
I had no interest in spending my time getting revenge on her.
But I wasn’t going to become her friend again just because she’d apologised either.
Those two things didn’t contradict each other.
Later, Ethan withdrew from consideration for team captain the following school year.
I heard the coach had wanted him to keep leading the team, but Ethan turned it down.
Some people said it was because of the disciplinary investigation and that he no longer wanted the captaincy. Others said he’d finally realised that the people he’d spent so long defending were nowhere near as important as he’d once believed.
None of that had anything to do with me anymore,
I completed all the requirements for graduation.
I also received interview invitations from graduate programs.
For the first time, I realised that even without Ethan, I still had plenty in my own life to focus on.
My days started filling up with new plans.
I began having meals with people from the lab. I started saying yes when classmates invited me to
the cinema.
One time, everyone made a last–minute decision to go watch a football game.
My first instinct was to turn them down.
But in the end, I went.
The stadium was loud. Everyone around us was shouting.
But I sat there without anyone telling me who I was supposed to cheer for, and no one asked whether I’d earned the right to be there.
After the game, one of the girls from my group smiled and patted my shoulder.
“You were a bit chattier than usual today.”
I tensed without meaning to.
Back then, whenever I talked too much, Ethan would remind me not to interrupt people.
But she only smiled.
“It was nice. That bit where you broke down the play was actually really interesting.”
I stared at her for a few seconds.
Then I smiled too.
So this was what normal friendship felt like.
No scores. No tests. No popularity contest.
Just speaking, and having someone genuinely want to listen.
