Chapter 12
Roomy's POV
The next morning, the hallway felt louder than usual.
Laughter. Lockers slamming. Names being called across corridors.
Life moving forward like nothing had happened.
But Roomy saw it.
The difference.
Trina walked through the hallway like she was made of glass fragile, but with edges sharp enough to cut.
Her back was straight.
Her face emotionless.
Her steps perfectly measured.
A barrier rebuilt overnight.
Roomy didn't approach her at first.
He watched.
She didn't look at Alex.
Not once.
She walked past Natalie like the girl didn't exist.
Every emotion she had shown yesterday the shaking breath, the tears in her eyes gone.
Locked away.
It was the same as years ago.
Flashback
They were six.
Trina had scraped her knee on the playground. Not much just a tiny cut, but the kids laughed, pointing.
Her face crumpled for half a second.
Then just like that nothing.
Expression gone.
Tears swallowed.
Smile forced too quickly, too brightly.
Roomy remembered watching her realizing even then that she didn't cry like other children.
She hid.
He remembered sitting next to her on the swing afterward, his small hands holding hers.
"If it hurts, you can tell me," he had whispered.
And she had whispered back:
"No. Because once people know where you break, they know where to hit."
Roomy never forgot that.
Present
Now, in this hallway, she wore the same armor.
Stronger. Sharper.
Built from every bruise life had given her.
Roomy finally stepped toward her, slowly because rushing at someone who is hurting only makes them run.
"Trina."
She didn't look up.
"Yes?"
Her tone was steady. Calm. Controlled.
Not cold ,
closed.
Roomy studied her face, the faint redness around her eyes, the tiredness she tried to hide.
"You don't have to act like nothing happened."
Trina blinked once slow then finally looked at him.
Her voice was quiet, steady in the way broken things are steady:
"If I let it hurt, it'll destroy me. So… I don't."
Roomy didn't argue.
He didn't reach out.
He didn't try to fix it.
He just stood with her.
Because sometimes the strongest support
is simply not leaving.
They walked into class together.
Not side by side.
But close enough that if she started to fall even silently
he'd be there to catch the pieces.
Not to glue them back.
Just to hold them.