I was seated in my room, with her beside me.
She told me her mother had called her a slut.
The word startled me, not because I had never heard it, but because I could not understand why a woman would use it against her own daughter. I thought of asking why, then realized it was rarely about the child. It was about what had been passed down, unhealed. Generational trauma has many disguises.
I stayed calm when I asked if I should speak to her mother about it. I knew how I must have looked, distant, uninterested. I could read the irritation in her face; she probably thought I was neglecting her pain. But I didn't know how to soften myself. I never learned how to be cheerful when things were serious.
I did speak to her mother. She said it was to make her study.
I didn't argue. Some truths do not soften when explained, they only grow heavier. And I did not want to create a mess, nor did I want to raise my voice where it would never truly be heard.
She was gone, yet I kept thinking about her.
I opened my phone and realized Dorian still hadn't replied to my texts.
I looked out the window. Some boys were playing football in the playground. I stood up and noticed Dorian among them. There he is, I thought. I sat back at my desk and looked at the rose I had painted earlier. It was beautiful, I thought again and then I went outside.
A girl was standing near the field, watching the children play. I walked over and stood beside her, watching in silence.
That was when I saw Veronica. She had fallen and injured herself; she was crying. I didn't move. I just watched. Her friends rushed to comfort her.
"She's so childish. He will never like her," the girl beside me said.
I turned to her, staring in disbelief for a brief second before speaking.
"He?" I asked. "Who?"
"Her stupid, childish crush," she replied.
"Oh. I see," I said. Amused at first, then irritated without knowing why.
She is so childish
The words echoed in my mind, forcing me to pause.
She was just a girl who didn't yet know how the world worked.
An innocent bird flying freely in the open blue sky, fearless, untouched by tension.
She is beautiful, I thought.
She wasn't a just child
I was still looking at her without realizing it, staring longer than I meant to.
A gentle breeze brushed against my face and pulled me back. I looked up at the sky.
Something unfamiliar settled in my chest not sudden, not loud. Just present.
And then i understood
I felt something for those the world chose to misunderstand.