When school ended that day, I felt heavier than I had in weeks. My feet dragged against the floor as if the entire weight of my grief was pulling me down. I didn't even look up when the final bell rang; I just stuffed my books into my bag and walked out quietly, hoping no one would notice how broken I was inside.
But they noticed. They always noticed.
As soon as I stepped outside the school gates, I saw them—Peter, Chloe, Edward, and Liam—all waiting for me. Their faces were unreadable, a strange mix of determination and worry. For a moment, I thought they were just there to walk me home like always, but then Liam spoke, and his voice was sharper, firmer than I'd ever heard before.
"Emma," he said, stepping closer. "We need to talk. Now."
I frowned, clutching the strap of my bag tighter. "What is it? Did something happen?"
Chloe exchanged a look with Peter, who nodded at her as if giving silent permission. She then turned to me, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears. "It's you, Emma. Something happened to you. And we're not letting this go on anymore."
I froze. My throat felt tight. "What are you talking about?"
Edward stepped forward then, his voice calm but heavy, almost like he'd rehearsed this a hundred times before. "We can't watch you waste away in that house anymore. Every time you walk through those doors, you come out smaller, weaker, more hurt. That place isn't a home anymore—it's a cage. And we're not letting you stay trapped in it."
I blinked at them, my chest rising and falling too quickly. "What do you mean?"
Liam's voice cut through, low and commanding. "You're not living there anymore. Not after everything. You're coming with us. You'll eat properly, you'll have a diet plan, you'll see a therapist, you'll… you'll actually live, Emma. You'll grow again."
My whole body trembled as the words sank in. For a second, I laughed—a small, broken laugh that sounded nothing like me. "You can't be serious. You can't just—just uproot me like that."
Peter stepped closer, his hazel eyes steady on mine. "We can. And we will. Because you matter to us, Emma. More than you realize."
And that was it. That was the moment the wall inside me cracked. I couldn't hold it together anymore. Tears blurred my vision, spilling faster than I could wipe them away. My knees felt weak, so weak I thought I might collapse right there on the sidewalk. "Why…" my voice cracked, "why would you all do this for me? I'm—I'm such a mess. I'm nothing but broken pieces right now. I'm just losing myself like a child who doesn't know how to grow up."
Chloe rushed forward then, wrapping her arms tightly around me. Her voice was shaking, but her grip was unrelenting. "Because you're not just broken pieces, Emma. You're our friend. You're our heart. You're worth fighting for, even when you can't fight for yourself."
I buried my face into her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, until Edward gently pulled me into his arms next. He held me as though I might shatter if he let go. His voice was low, soothing, a whisper meant only for me. "It's okay to break, Emma. But you don't have to stay broken. Not when we're here."
That was when I realized it—my life wasn't worth wasting. Not for pain, not for grief, not for the darkness that had been swallowing me whole. I needed to grow. To glow. To become something my mother would have been proud of. She wouldn't have wanted to see me like this, drowning in sorrow. She would have wanted me to rise.
I pulled back from Edward, wiping my tears with shaky hands. My voice still quivered, but this time, there was strength buried inside it. "Then I'll try. I'll try my best. Not suddenly. Not like flipping a switch. But I'll try. I'll stand up again. Stronger."
Liam placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his lips pressed into a determined line. "That's all we're asking, Emma. Just try. We'll handle the rest."
The next few hours blurred together. We walked to my house silently, every step heavier than the last. When I stood before the door, staring at the familiar chipped paint and rusted handle, my chest tightened. This was the place where I had laughed as a child, cried as a teenager, and now… now it was nothing but a graveyard of memories.
I unlocked the door one last time, walking through the empty rooms. Every corner whispered with echoes of my mother's voice, every wall carried her warmth. My hand lingered on the doorknob of her bedroom, but I didn't open it. I couldn't. Not yet.
Finally, I walked back outside. I held the keys in my trembling hand, staring down at them as though they weighed a thousand pounds. Then, with all the courage I could muster, I turned to Peter.
"I can't carry this anymore," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please… take them. I don't want to look back."
Peter's eyes softened as he stepped closer. He didn't argue, didn't tell me to keep them—he simply extended his hand and let me drop the keys into his palm. For a moment, our fingers brushed, and something unspoken passed between us. A promise, maybe. Or maybe just the comfort of knowing I wasn't alone.
I turned away quickly, afraid I'd collapse if I lingered. Edward was there instantly, steadying me when my steps faltered. But this time, I didn't run away from their touch. I leaned into it, accepting it.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, I had made my decision. I would move into Liam's mansion. His house was enormous, filled with light and laughter and space to breathe. He offered me one of the rooms, and though it terrified me to leave behind the only home I'd ever known, I nodded.
Because this wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about choosing life. Choosing me.
And for the first time in a long, long time, I believed that maybe—I could.
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