Chapter 32
Julia sat still, her fingers hovering over the keys. The recorder rested beside her, its presence both comforting and heavy. Her grandmother's voice echoed in her mind like a lullaby—soft, powerful, and filled with love.
She had cried for an hour after hearing that message, not out of sadness alone, but because something inside her had cracked open. Something she'd buried with every forced smile and silent ache. It wasn't just grief that lived in her—it was love, too. And maybe that was worth writing about.
She took a deep breath.
The cursor blinked at her like a heartbeat. And then—one word. Then another.
*"The girl didn't speak, not because she couldn't, but because no one ever waited long enough to listen."*
She paused. Her heart beat faster. That was it. That was the first sentence. The first truth.
Julia leaned back, staring at her screen, unsure whether to smile or cry again. For months, words had felt like enemies. Now they poured out like old friends returning from a long trip.
The story flowed slowly, tentatively, as if her fingers were rediscovering a language they'd once known fluently.
She wrote about the silence after losing someone.
She wrote about walking through crowds feeling invisible.
She wrote about wanting to scream, but only whispering in poetry because the world didn't know how to handle volume from the quiet ones.
Every word felt like a tiny piece of healing.
She didn't notice when the sun rose. Or when her tea went cold.
But she noticed when the knock came.
"Julia?" a familiar voice called softly.
It was Callen.
She opened the door, blinking sleepily. He stared at her in surprise. "You've been writing all night?"
She nodded. "I think I just… started again."
He looked over her shoulder and saw the pages open on her screen. Paragraphs. Whole pages. Emotions dripping through each line like paint on canvas.
"Can I read it?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
Callen walked in, sat gently, and began reading. The room was quiet except for the sound of pages scrolling. Julia watched him nervously, unsure of what reaction to expect.
When he finished, he looked up. His eyes were soft. "This is you."
Julia's throat tightened. "It's everything I couldn't say before."
He nodded. "Then keep saying it. Write it all."
She bit her lip. "What if people think it's too sad?"
He smiled. "Then maybe they'll feel less alone in their own sadness. That's what stories are for, right?"
Julia's eyes stung. "Thank you… for not giving up on me."
Callen shrugged, but his voice was warm. "I just waited. Like your words did."
***
Later that evening, Julia returned to the library. Mrs. Elric had set up a tiny display in the corner: "Featured New Authors." And right there, printed boldly, was the title: *The Girl Who Forgot How to Smile.*
She blinked in disbelief. "You… you put it here?"
Mrs. Elric nodded. "People are already asking about it."
Julia's heart flipped. She never imagined someone would read her pain and feel drawn to it. She always thought her sadness made her small. But maybe it made her real.
As she turned to leave, another young girl entered the library. She looked maybe fourteen. Quiet. Shy. She pointed at Julia's book and asked, "Did… you write this?"
Julia nodded.
The girl's voice was barely a whisper. "I… I don't smile much either."
Julia's eyes softened. "That's okay. Some smiles take time."
The girl nodded, hugging the book to her chest.
That night, Julia wrote another chapter. Not because she had to—but because she *wanted* to. She was no longer just writing to heal herself.
She was writing for the ones who hadn't found their words yet.
And maybe, just maybe, that was where her strength lived.