The slideshow was done. The room was quiet. The air between Brielle and Elijah… wasn't.
Brielle sat curled on the far end of the couch, hugging her knees. Elijah had stepped out to grab snacks, leaving her with her thoughts, and the gnawing ache building behind her ribs.
She hated how being here made her feel. Exposed. Seen.
Too seen.
Footsteps approached. But it wasn't Elijah who entered the room.
It was Grace.
She walked in softly, carrying a small plate of cookies like she'd done this a hundred times before.
"You okay?" she asked, voice soft.
Brielle blinked. "Yeah. Just tired."
"You looked like you were about to cry."
Brielle let out a shaky laugh. "Guess I'm not good at pretending, huh?"
Grace sat beside her, offering a cookie. "My mom used to say: it's not weakness to feel things. It's weakness to bury them until you explode."
Brielle stared at her. "How old are you again?"
Grace grinned. "Wise enough."
And just like that, the dam cracked.
"I hate it," Brielle whispered.
Grace blinked. "Hate what?"
"This feeling like I'm never enough. My parents; they expect perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect behavior. Perfect smile. Even when everything inside me is falling apart."
Her voice trembled.
"They don't see me. They see a version of me that fits their dream. And every time I mess up, it's like I'm breaking them. Like I'm the shame in their perfect picture."
Silence.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I act like I don't care. Like I'm in control. But I'm not. I'm exhausted, Grace."
The younger girl reached for her hand and held it tightly.
"You're allowed to not be okay," Grace said. "And you don't have to be perfect to matter."
Brielle's breath caught.
Elijah reappeared in the doorway, holding a bowl of popcorn, but the moment froze him in place. He saw his sister's small hand gripping Brielle's. He saw the tears Brielle quickly wiped away.
And for the first time, he didn't see the firecracker girl who gave sharp comebacks and fierce glares.
He saw her breaking.
Without a word, he set the bowl down and walked over. Grace quietly slipped away.
Elijah sat beside Brielle. Not touching. Just close.
"I heard what you said," he murmured.
"I didn't mean for you..."
"I'm glad I did."
Brielle sniffed, embarrassed. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm fragile."
"You're not fragile, Brielle. You're fighting harder than most people ever have to."
His voice was steady, warm.
"If you ever need a place to be yourself… I've got space."
Brielle turned her head, eyes meeting his.
And for the first time in a long time… she believed someone.