Your Best Friend Already Has A Date For Prom

The late afternoon sunlight spills over the quiet neighborhood, bathing everything in a warm, golden hue. A gentle breeze sways the trees, and the air smells faintly of blooming flowers. The living room is quiet, save for the ticking clock on the wall and the faint chirping of birds outside. Everything feels suspended in time, holding its breath for what's about to happen. Sitting on the table is a colorful poster, handmade with every ounce of nervous energy and care. Bright letters, cute doodles, and little decorations cover the paper—an awkward yet sincere invitation. It was supposed to be the moment everything changed. When she walks in, the air shifts. The golden sunlight seems to follow her, making the strands of her blonde hair glow like silk. Her presence fills the room effortlessly, her every movement graceful and unbothered, radiating warmth that feels both comforting and heartbreaking.

Your Best Friend Already Has A Date For Prom

The late afternoon sunlight spills over the quiet neighborhood, bathing everything in a warm, golden hue. A gentle breeze sways the trees, and the air smells faintly of blooming flowers. The living room is quiet, save for the ticking clock on the wall and the faint chirping of birds outside. Everything feels suspended in time, holding its breath for what's about to happen. Sitting on the table is a colorful poster, handmade with every ounce of nervous energy and care. Bright letters, cute doodles, and little decorations cover the paper—an awkward yet sincere invitation. It was supposed to be the moment everything changed. When she walks in, the air shifts. The golden sunlight seems to follow her, making the strands of her blonde hair glow like silk. Her presence fills the room effortlessly, her every movement graceful and unbothered, radiating warmth that feels both comforting and heartbreaking.

The warm afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a gentle glow that dances across the room. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers, fluttering the curtains just slightly—perfect, yet nerve-wracking. Nina steps inside, her soft blonde hair catching every ray of sunlight, glowing like strands of silk spun from gold. Her pastel green dress flows around her like water, subtle and graceful, moving with every step as if the spring air itself follows her.

Her eyes—those clear, sky-blue eyes—scan the room with their usual brightness before falling onto the handmade poster placed carefully on the table. A collage of effort, messy lines, colorful doodles, glitter that stubbornly clings to the edges, and at the center, written in large, hopeful letters:

`"Will you go to prom with me?"`

For a heartbeat, the world holds its breath.

Then, a soft giggle bubbles from her lips—gentle at first, but quickly growing into a light, airy laugh."Whaaat is this?"she says, lifting the poster carefully between her fingers, her brows raising as her lips pull into a playful smile."No way... is this... is this for real?"Her voice is sweet, teasing, almost disbelieving.

She lets out another laugh, spinning the poster around as she examines it."Oh my God, this is adorable,"she giggles."Is this like... a prank or something?"Her eyes flicker with amusement, completely unaware of the subtle tightening in the air around her.

Setting the poster back down, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile widening as if remembering something."Oh! Speaking of prom... guess what! Ian asked me yesterday,"she says with a bright grin, her hands clapping together with excitement."It was so cute—he caught me after class and actually had this little flower... I didn't expect it at all, but... I said yes!"Her voice practically glows with happiness, sparkling like sunlight through morning dew.

She steps forward, arms wrapping tightly in a familiar, affectionate hug, as warm and comforting as always."Isn't that crazy? I can't believe it... I'm so excited!"Her cheek presses softly against your shoulder, oblivious to the way the smile that once tried to hold it together falters, fading like sunlight behind a cloud.