Amara avoided school for two days straight.
She told her mother she had cramps. Which wasn't a total lie—her body did ache, just not in the way anyone could see. Her mind was a war zone, every thought a landmine.
She spent most of her time staring at her bedroom door, waiting for something to change. But doors didn't open unless you moved toward them. And she wasn't ready. Not yet.
On the third day, she forced herself to class.
She didn't wear makeup. She didn't bother with her hair. She just wanted to be invisible. But the universe rarely grants such kindness when you need it most.
As soon as she walked through the school gates, she saw him.
Kelvin.
He was standing near the canteen, wearing that same hoodie, leaning on the rail like nothing had happened. Like the last time they were alone hadn't destroyed something sacred between them.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the world froze.
He straightened. Took a slow step forward.
She turned away quickly, heading straight to class.
Her heart was racing. Her hands shook.
She could feel his presence trailing behind her, like a shadow that refused to detach.
When she reached her seat, her phone buzzed.
> Kelvin: Can we please talk? Just five minutes. I'll wait outside.
She didn't reply.
---
After classes, Amara didn't leave through the front gates. She slipped out the back, down the dusty corridor behind the library, her footsteps quick and uncertain.
She felt like a fugitive—except her crime was silence.
As she turned a corner, someone stepped into view.
Not Kelvin.
Tristian.
He looked surprised. Then concerned.
"Hey… are you okay?" he asked, lowering his voice.
Amara nodded too fast. "I'm fine."
He didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes.
"You've been off," he said gently. "Not just today. For a while now."
She looked away. "I've just been… tired."
"Tired of what?" he asked.
Of pretending, she wanted to say. Of being scared. Of forgiving people who don't deserve it.
Instead, she whispered, "Nothing."
Tristian hesitated, then handed her something small. A folded piece of paper.
"What's this?" she asked.
"My number," he said. "I figured… if you ever wanted someone to talk to who won't ask too many questions."
Amara blinked. No one had ever offered her that before—friendship with no strings, no expectations, no demands.
Her fingers closed around the paper like it was a lifeline.
"Thank you," she whispered.
As he walked away, Amara stood still, heart thudding.
Kelvin was still outside, probably pacing.
Waiting.
But Tristian… he had opened a door she didn't know she needed. A quiet one. A safe one.
And for the first time in days, Amara realized she had a choice.
Not between two boys. But between the girl she used to be—too afraid to speak—
and the one she was slowly becoming