I thought I'd feel powerful after saying it.
Like the world would shift beneath my feet.
Like my voice finally unleashed would wrap around the room and crack the glass cage I've been living in.
But instead, there's only silence.
Not peace.
Not relief.
Just silence.
The kind that echoes louder because it came after something sharp.
I didn't cry after I stood up to her.
Didn't fall apart.
But I felt everything all at once rage, fear, regret, relief layered like bruises beneath the skin.
And now… now I'm just tired.
The classroom feels different this morning.
Or maybe I do.
I walk in and I don't flinch when Kaori's eyes find me from across the room.
She doesn't smile.
She doesn't whisper.
She just looks and that's enough to make everyone else look too.
But I hold my ground.
I don't shrink.
I take my seat like I belong in it.
Because I do.
When the teacher asks us to form reading groups, I wait for the usual shuffle.
The quiet avoidance. The empty space beside me no one ever fills.
But then… Yuna moves.
Her chair scrapes across the floor, not loud, not rushed. She settles beside me with a glance that isn't pity. Just neutral. Normal. Human.
"You mind if I sit here?" she asks.
I blink. My mouth opens, closes.
"No. It's fine."
It comes out steadier than I thought it would.
And maybe it's nothing.
Maybe she just didn't want to sit near Asami.
But for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like a ghost being tolerated.
I feel real.
After class, I move through the hallway like I'm still getting used to my own shadow.
Kaori doesn't speak to me.
But she doesn't need to.
I can feel her watching.
Like she's waiting for me to fall back into place.
Waiting for the silence to swallow me again.
But I've tasted what it feels like to speak.
And no matter how small it sounded… it was mine.
I pass Souta near the shoe lockers.
He's laughing at something Itsuki said, but his eyes aren't in it. Not fully.
Then he sees me.
And I see it in him the pause.
That quiet way he watches people when he's afraid they're about to vanish.
Our eyes meet for a second.
And I wonder…
Does he know?
Did someone tell him what I said?
How I finally stood up not just to Kaori, but to the version of myself that let people walk through me?
I don't smile.
But I don't look away.
I nod.
Barely.
Like a whisper of a wave.
He doesn't say anything.
Just watches.
But his gaze softens, and it's enough.
Enough to say: I see you. I'm still here.
I keep walking.
At lunch, I don't eat in the courtyard.
I sit at my desk. The classroom half-empty.
It's quiet, but not the kind that hurts.
It's the kind that lets me think.
I pull out my notebook. Not for notes.
Just blank pages. A place to put all the things I still can't say aloud.
I write one line:
Even quiet voices shake walls.
I stare at it.
Then I write another:
I don't want to disappear anymore.
After school, the sky looks heavy with rain, but it hasn't fallen yet.
I walk home slowly, feeling the weight of the day settle into my shoulders but it's not the same weight as before.
It's not fear.
It's something quieter.
The ache of becoming someone new.
At the corner where Souta sometimes catches up to me, I glance back.
He's not there.
But that's okay.
Because I'm learning that being seen doesn't mean always being saved.
Sometimes it means saving yourself and letting someone walk beside you when you're ready.
When I get home, I don't go straight to my room.
I make tea.
I open the window.
I let the breeze in.
And for the first time in days, I let myself breathe.
Not perfectly.
Not fearlessly.
But enough.
And maybe, just maybe…
That's where strength begins.