No Longer His Quiet Girl

I have always struggled with social anxiety, and growing up, Leo was always the one who stepped in to speak for me. "My Hope is a little shy," he’d say, a protective arm slung over my shoulder. "Don’t scare her." For years, I believed him.

I believed that his protection was my sanctuary. Until the night before the varsity debate tournament.

I was huddled in the quietest corner of the campus library, clutching my speech, my palms slick with sweat. Leo had promised to run through my arguments with me.

But then Phoebe, the new transfer student in our department, sent him a text saying her laptop had crashed. Just like that, he stood up and walked away.

Before he left, he slapped a sticky note onto my desk. "I wrote the entire brief for you," he said, his voice flat. "Just read it.

You can't rely on me for everything, Hope." I stared at that sticky note, waiting for him to come back. I waited the entire night.

Later, as I walked past the computer lab, I heard Phoebe's soft, teasing laugh drift through the cracked door. "Are you sure you should have left her like that?

What if she cries?" Leo's response was low, dismissive. "Let her cry. She needs to grow up anyway." The next day, under the harsh auditorium lights, my throat closed up.

I choked on my opening statement. In the past, Leo would have been the first to jump in, to seamlessly pivot and cover for me.

But that day, he was sitting right next to the judges' panel, his head bent toward Phoebe, effortlessly twisting open a bottle of water for her.

When the round ended, he finally looked at me, his forehead creasing with irritation. "Hope, honestly, you embarrassed me out there today." I looked at the water bottle in his hand, and then at the sticky note in mine.

The ink of his handwriting was still clear. But the shield that had protected me from the wind for years had turned its back, leaving me entirely in the cold. ...

When Leo finally held the bottle out to me, the cap was already loosened. I didn't take it.

My thumb pressed against the corner of the sticky note, the paper softened and warped by the sweat of my palms. It held the opening hook he had crafted for me.

Phoebe stood right beside him, a soft, sympathetic smile on her lips. "Oh, Leo, don't be so hard on her.

She was already so nervous." Leo's brow didn't clear. "I'm not being hard on her.

I'm just trying to make her realize that in the real world, you can't always count on someone to swoop in and save you." Ryan, our third speaker, glanced between us and offered a quiet, awkward shrug. "I mean, Leo has a point, Hope.

It was pretty rough up there. Even the judges were looking uncomfortable." I lowered my eyes, quietly tucking the sticky note into the folder of my printed brief. "Yeah.

I know." My flat response seemed to catch Leo off guard.

His hand hovered in the air, the water bottle suspended between us. "Good," he muttered, pulling his hand back. "Because the divisional round is next week.

You need to go back to the dorm and practice. A lot." Phoebe leaned in, her eyes bright. "Honestly, Hope’s writing is beautiful. It’s just her delivery—it’s a little too soft.

Maybe I could run some drills with her before the next round?" Leo turned to look at Phoebe, his tone instantly softening. "Focus on your own laptop first.

We don't need it crashing in the middle of the night again." A few other teammates chuckled. Someone cracked a joke: "Listen to him.

He sounds like a nagging husband already." Phoebe’s ears flushed pink. She gave Leo a playful shove. "Shut up, you guys. Stop making things up." Leo didn't pull away.

He just let out a low, comfortable laugh. My hands froze on my papers. I took a slow breath and packed them into my tote bag, zipping it shut.

Once, that warm, intimate laugh had belonged solely to me. I remembered our freshman year, during our first seminar.

The professor had made everyone stand up and introduce themselves.

I had stood at the front of the lecture hall, my fingers frantically digging into my sleeves, unable to squeeze out a single syllable.

Leo had stood up from the very back row, offering a charming, easy smile to the room. "Her name is Hope," he had said. "She's a bit shy, so don't stare too hard, guys.

Give her a break." The room had chuckled, the tension dissolving. And I had breathed a sigh of relief. He still laughed like that now. Only the recipient had changed.

On the way back to the dorms, Leo caught up to me.

His fingers wrapped gently around my wrist, pulling me to a halt. "Why are you walking so fast?" he asked, looking down at me. "Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment because of what I said?

I was just trying to help." I tried to tug my wrist back, but his grip remained firm. "I'm fine." He watched me, the familiar warmth of his palm seeping through my skin. "Hope, I know you better than anyone.

When you say you're fine, you're the exact opposite." Phoebe caught up with us then, her footsteps light on the pavement. "You two have that childhoodfriend telepathy, don't you?

Even your arguments have secret codes." Leo let go of my wrist, adjusting his jacket with a shrug. "She's always been like this. Quiet. A little dramatic.

You just have to humor her and she'll bounce back." I clutched my folder a little tighter against my chest. "I don't need to be humored, Leo." Leo blinked, clearly taken aback, before letting out a soft laugh. "Alright, no humoring.

But you're going to read through your opening arguments three times tonight. I'll test you tomorrow." Phoebe tilted her head. "Can you test me too, Leo?

I’m terrified I’m going to drag the team down during the divisionals." Leo reached over and took the heavy binder from her arms. "You don't need it.

Your impromptu delivery is much better than hers." He said it so casually, so naturally, that it felt like a physical blow.

My eyes fell to the corner of the yellow sticky note peeking out of my bag, and suddenly, his neat, bold handwriting felt like an eyesore.

At the entrance of my dorm building, Leo pulled a fresh pad of sticky notes from his backpack and handed them to me. "You always forget to highlight your transitions," he said. "Take these.

I'll help you map out your logic tomorrow." They were pastel yellow. Ever since middle school, he had always bought me this exact shade.

He used to say that yellow was bright enough to cut through my cluttered thoughts, helping me find my focus.

I took the pad, my lips parting to say thank you, when Phoebe suddenly gasped, frantically rummaging through her purse. "Oh no!

I think I left my campus card in the debate hall." Leo immediately turned around. "I'll go back with you to get it." He took a couple of steps, then looked back over his shoulder. "Go on up, Hope.

Don't wait for me. Make sure you practice tonight. No slacking." I stood there, watching them walk away shoulder to shoulder.

A sudden gust of wind caught the sticky notes in my hand, flipping the top page open. There was handwriting on the very first sheet.

Three words, written in Leo’s unmistakable hand: "For Phoebe." I stared at it.

I walked up to my room, placed the pad on the corner of my desk, and didn't touch it for the rest of the night.

My roommate, Bella, walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her wet hair.

Seeing me motionless at my desk, she tapped the wood. "You've been staring at that piece of paper for thirty minutes, Hope.

Is it going to sprout legs and talk to you?" I slowly peeled off the top sheet, crumpling it into my fist. "Leo gave me the wrong pad." Bella leaned in, squinting at my hand. "Is that...

Phoebe's name?" I nodded, pushing the rest of the yellow pad away. "He probably bought them together and got them mixed up." Bella dropped onto her bed, sighing heavily. "Stop making excuses for him, Hope.

He didn't speak up for you once today. But the second Phoebe looked at him, he couldn't wait to play the gentleman and open her water bottle." I didn't answer.

I just opened my laptop to revise my brief, the bright screen illuminating my pale face. A notification popped up on my phone. It was a text from Leo. "10:00 AM tomorrow.

Debate room. Don't be late." A few seconds later, another message followed: "Let's move past today.

Don't let a small thing get between us." I stared at the words for a long time before typing out a single word: "Okay." The next morning, I arrived at the debate room ten minutes early.

The door wasn't fully closed. Through the gap, Phoebe's voice drifted out. "Do you think my delivery would sound more persuasive for this rebuttal? Hope is just... so soft.

She doesn't really hold the room's attention." Then, Leo's low murmur replied: "That's why I want you to practice it.

We aren't officially changing speakers yet, but we need a solid backup." My hand froze on the doorknob. Inside, someone on the team chuckled. "Wow, Leo. Talk about planning ahead.

But if Hope finds out you wrote a parallel brief for Phoebe, won't she shut down again?" Leo's voice remained calm, entirely indifferent. "She won't make a scene.

She’ll just hide in her room and pout for a couple of days.

She always does." Phoebe let out a soft, pleased laugh. "You really have her figured out, don't you?" Leo didn't deny it. "She can't function without me." When I finally pushed the door open, the room fell into a sudden, awkward silence.

Leo looked up and saw me, his expression smoothing out instantly. "You're here. Sit down, don't just stand at the door." I noticed the papers in Phoebe's hand.

They were identical to mine—even the placement of the sticky notes was exactly the same.

I stared at them, my voice barely a whisper. "Is that... my brief?" Leo’s tone took on a professional, slightly stern edge. "Your arguments are strong, Hope, but your delivery is too unstable.

Phoebe is going to run through it to demonstrate how it should sound.

Watch and learn from her." I looked from the papers to Phoebe's face. "So... am I still the second speaker for the divisionals?" Phoebe didn't say anything.

She just smoothed down the edges of the paper.

Leo leaned back in his chair, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "Right now, you should be focusing on how to improve, not obsessing over who gets to read the speech." Bella walked into the room behind me, letting out a sharp, cold laugh. "Hope stayed up all night writing that brief, Leo.

Since when did her work become community property?" Leo raised his head, his tone polite but icy. "This is debate team business, Bella.

Stay out of it." Bella opened her mouth to argue, but I reached out and gently pulled her sleeve. "It's fine," I murmured.

Hearing those words, the tension in Leo’s shoulders visibly eased. He probably thought I was doing what I always did—shrinking back, letting him have his way.

When the practice run began, Phoebe took the podium with my notes. Her voice was clear, her pacing immaculate.

The rest of the team immediately showered her with praise. "Now that's what a second speaker should sound like!" "Honestly, Phoebe makes this brief sound so much better." "Hope, you should really take some notes.

Don't let Leo's prep work go to waste." Leo stood by the whiteboard, glancing over at me. "See? No one is attacking you, Hope.

I'm doing this for your own good." I nodded slowly. "I see." My calm reaction didn't seem to satisfy him.

He walked over, ripping off a sticky note and slapping it onto my folder. "Revise this transition. Don't make it so convoluted.

The judges won't have the patience to sit through your buildup." I looked down at the note.

In the bottom corner, instead of the star he usually drew for me, there was a tiny sketched flower. Phoebe giggled from behind him. "Oh, I drew that. Just a habit.

You don't mind, do you?" I shut my folder. "No. I don't mind." Leo kept his eyes on me, his tone dropping. "You're acting weird today." I met his gaze. "I'm just taking your advice.

Trying to grow up." During the lunch break, I went to the campus print shop to make fresh copies of my revised notes.

Next to the main printer, a draft of the divisional roster was lying faceup.

The wind rustled the pages, revealing a yellow sticky note stuck to the corner. "Hope's emotional state is too unstable.

Slotting Phoebe in as second speaker." The signature at the bottom belonged to Leo. The printer attendant stepped out, glancing at the machine. "Your copies are ready, miss.

Don't forget your papers." I picked up my warm sheets of paper, my voice barely audible. "Excuse me... is the divisional roster being submitted today?" The clerk flipped through some files on the counter. "Yep.

Has to be turned in to the Student Government by five tonight. Why?" I shook my head. "Nothing.

Thank you." When I returned to the debate room, Leo was walking Phoebe through the crossexamination strategy. He held a red pen, patiently circling key points on her sheet.

His voice was unusually gentle. "Pause for half a second here," he instructed. "Don't rush.

When you rush, you sound overly defensive." Phoebe rested her chin in her hands, looking up at him. "What about Hope?

When she gets nervous, she just stops talking altogether." Leo smiled faintly. "That's why she needs to practice." I walked in and set my printed files on the table. "Leo, I need to ask you something." He didn't look up from Phoebe's paper. "In a minute.

Let me finish smoothing out this section for Phoebe." Bella stood up from her corner. "How long does it take to answer a single question, Leo?

Didn't you use to say that whatever Hope had to say was the most important thing in the room?" Leo finally raised his head, his expression hardening. "Bella, you've been looking for a fight all day." Phoebe quickly tried to play peacemaker. "Hey, let's not fight.

We're all on the same team. Hope, what did you want to ask?" I kept my eyes on Leo. "The divisional roster. Have you turned it in yet?" Leo's fingers tensed around his red pen.

He slowly set it down. "Not yet.

Why do you ask?" "Can I see it?" He slid his folder shut, his voice dropping an octave. "Hope, don't you trust me?" He had asked me that same question before.

Back in high school, before the homecoming assembly, I had been terrified of forgetting my lines and asked if he could stay late to help me run through them.

He had pressed a sticky note onto the back of my hand then, smiling. "Don't you trust me? If I say you can do this, you can." He had stayed with me until midnight that night.

And for years, whenever he said "trust me", I did.

But now, looking at his hand firmly clamping the folder shut, I slowly retracted my hand. "I do." Leo’s posture relaxed slightly. "Then stop overthinking.

I'll take care of it this afternoon." Phoebe slid a paper cup of milk tea toward me. "Here, Hope, have something sweet. Don't be so tense.

Leo is just tough love, but he has a soft heart." Bella reached over and pushed the cup away. "She doesn't drink taro milk tea.

Phoebe doesn't know that, Leo, but did you forget too?" Leo went quiet for a beat. "It slipped my mind." Phoebe looked appropriately embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry!

I thought all girls liked taro." I shook my head. "It's fine." Suddenly, a couple of students from the Student Government knocked and entered the room.

The senior in the lead, Adrian, was holding a stack of official forms. His eyes swept across the room. "We're collecting the signed divisional rosters today.

Who is Hope?" I stood up. "I am." Adrian handed me a sheet. "There's been a change to your registration details.

I need you to review it and sign to confirm if everything is correct." Leo reached out to intercept the paper before it reached me. "She gets overwhelmed easily.

I'll review it for her." Adrian didn't let go of the form. "The student has to sign it themselves.

No proxies allowed." Leo’s hand hovered in the air, his polite smile fading. "I'm the team captain.

I've always handled her paperwork." Adrian ignored him and looked directly at me. "Do you need him to handle it for you, Hope?" The room fell dead silent.

Everyone was waiting for my answer. I swallowed hard, forcing the words out of my tight throat. "No. I don't." Leo shot me a warning, displeased look. I took the form from Adrian.

My eyes scanned the page. Under the slot for the second speaker, my name had been crossed out, and "Phoebe" was written in its place.

In the remarks section, there was a typed note: "Hope has voluntarily stepped down to serve as a research assistant." I clutched the paper, my fingers trembling slightly.

I didn't sign.

Adrian spoke softly. "If this wasn't your decision, you have the right to refuse to sign." Leo stepped closer, his finger pressing down on the corner of the paper. "Hope, let's not make a scene in front of guests.

Just sign it, and I'll explain everything later." I looked up at him. "Why am I the research assistant?" He glanced around the room, keeping his voice low and measured. "Because your current headstate isn't suited for the stage.

Phoebe can win this for us. We can't risk the entire team's performance just to accommodate your anxiety." Phoebe bit her lip. "Hope, please don't misunderstand.

I only just found out about this. Leo said you were under too much pressure, so I agreed to help out." Ryan chimed in quietly from the back. "Actually, it makes sense.

Hope writes the arguments, Phoebe delivers them. It's a pretty efficient division of labor." Bella let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "Efficient?

You steal her work, kick her off the stage, and then force her to sign a paper saying she did it voluntarily?

Yeah, sounds real fair." Leo tapped his knuckles on the table. "That's enough. Quiet down." I stared down at the form.

My eyes drifted to the open binder on Leo's desk, where a corner of a print receipt was peeking out. The print timestamp was from two nights ago, at the thirdfloor library printer.

The night he had told me Phoebe's laptop crashed. But the receipt showed that Phoebe's account had been used to print my entire, completed brief.

I slowly folded the registration form and handed it back to Adrian. "I need some time to verify this." Adrian nodded understandingly. "Sure.

Bring it to the Student Government office before five.

After that, the system locks." Once Adrian was out of earshot, Leo turned on me, his eyes dark. "Hope, you just put me in an incredibly difficult position." I pulled my tote bag close. "You could have told me beforehand." "And if I did, would you have agreed?" he countered, exasperated. "You would have cried, shut down, and made everyone walk on eggshells around you.

How would we have prepped for the debate then?" Phoebe said softly, "Leo, don't say that. I'm sure she didn't mean to make things hard." Leo rubbed his temples. "I know she didn't.

That's why I made the decision for her." I stared at him. "For me?" "Hope, I've spent our entire lives shielding you from things," he said, his tone softening back into that patronizing warmth. "You know that.

This is no different. I'm helping you." Bella grabbed my wrist. "Hope, let's get out of here." Leo stepped in front of the door, blocking our path. "We have a mock trial at three.

You can't leave yet. At least hand over your research notes before you go." I looked at his outstretched hand.

The hand that used to block microphones when I was too terrified to speak. The hand that used to slip reassuring notes into my palms. Now, it was just a barrier keeping me trapped.

I handed my bag to Bella. "I need to use the restroom." Leo stepped aside. "Don't be long." I didn't go to the restroom. I went straight to the third floor of the library.

The printer tracking system in the campus lab was still logged in.

The student worker on duty recognized me and pulled up the logs, offering a casual comment: "Your debate team has been printing a lot lately.

Actually, that tall guy—Leo, right?—came by last night asking to delete one of the print history entries.

Said he didn't want his girlfriend to get the wrong idea." My chest tightened. "Which entry?" "Uh, let me look...

He said someone borrowed his account, and leaving the log would cause a misunderstanding.

It was Phoebe's account, printing a full brief at 9:27 PM two nights ago." I stared at the screen. The digital footprints were clear as day.

Phoebe’s account: 9:27 PM, printing my debate brief. Leo’s account: 9:29 PM, printing the registration change form. At 9:30 PM, he had sent me that text: "Don't be nervous.

I'll be right there with you tomorrow." I took a photo of the screen on my phone. When I returned to the debate room, the mock trial was already underway.

Phoebe was standing at the podium, delivering my words with effortless charisma. Leo sat by the judges' table, a thick pad of yellow sticky notes in his hand.

Every time she finished a point, he would walk over and stick one onto her folder. "Great job here." "Brilliant point." "Flawless finish." Every single note was pastel yellow.

I stood by the doorway, listening to the quiet chatter of the team members. "Phoebe is honestly such a better fit than Hope." "Yeah, Leo should have made this swap weeks ago.

Hope's writing is fine, but her delivery is just too painful to watch." "But won't Hope be upset?" "Ah, Leo said she's codependent.

He'll just buy her some food and she'll be fine." When the mock round concluded, Phoebe had scored the highest marks in the room. Leo stood up, clapping his hands. "Perfect.

We're running this exact version for the tournament." I stepped into the room. "And what about me?" He turned, his brow furrowing when he saw me. "Where were you?

The team’s been waiting for you to hand over the research." Phoebe trotted over, clutching her notes, her expression a mask of sweet guilt. "Hope, I’m so sorry.

We ran a trial and the chemistry was just so good. Do you think I could take this round?

I promise I'll make it up to you and let you have the next one." I looked past her, straight at Leo. "Is that what you want too?" Leo’s voice remained even, bathed in that familiar, reasonable tone. "Hope, don't put so much weight on a single tournament.

Pushing yourself onto a stage you're not ready for will only make you look foolish." I gave a small nod. "I didn't sign the change form." He reached into his bag and pulled out a different sheet of paper. "I figured.

That's why I prepared a withdrawal statement for you.

You just need to sign this." Bella’s voice shook with rage. "Leo, are you out of your mind?" Leo ignored her, holding the pen out to me. "Just sign it, Hope.

Don't make things difficult for the team." I looked down at the paper.

In the section for the reason for withdrawal, it read: "Student is experiencing psychological instability and is currently unfit for public speaking engagements." Phoebe said softly, "Hope, please don't be mad at Leo.

He stayed up so late last night drafting this to make sure the wording was gentle enough so it wouldn't impact your future applications for campus clubs." Leo snapped his head toward her. "Phoebe." She quickly shut her mouth, realizing she had let something slip.

But the truth was already out in the open. It wasn't a lastminute decision. He had planned this long in advance. Leo pushed the pen closer to my hand. "Come on, Hope. Be good.

Sign it, and I'll take you out to that diner you love." I took the pen.

Just a second before the nib could touch the paper, Adrian’s voice drifted in from the doorway. "Hope, I brought your original registration form."