Chapter 4
That evening, Julia sat by her bedroom window with a small candle flickering beside her. Her notebook lay open, but the pages remained blank. Words didn't come as easily as they used to.
She stared at the sky—dark and endless—just like her thoughts. Then, she remembered something her grandma once told her:
*"When you can't say it, fold it. Let your feelings fly."*
Julia reached into her drawer and pulled out scraps of paper—old homework, faded letters, torn story drafts. Carefully, she began folding.
One by one, she shaped them into tiny stars.
Each fold held a piece of her sorrow, a memory, a wish.
She whispered to them softly as she folded:
"For Mama to stop crying at night."
"For Papa to come home early."
"For someone to hear my stories."
And finally, the smallest star of all—
"For me to smile again."
She placed the stars in a glass jar and set it on her windowsill. The stars didn't glow, but somehow, they lit up her heart a little.
Outside, the wind picked up again.
And this time, Julia didn't feel so small.