Mia sat at the back of her Literature class, her pen unmoving over the half-filled page of notes. The words on the board blurred, and Mr. Jennings' voice had faded into a low, meaningless hum. All she could hear was Lily.
"He knows. He just doesn't want to remember."
The sentence looped in her mind like a scratched record. Every time she blinked, she saw Lily's eyes; sad, clear, undeniable. She hadn't slept much since that night. Even when she closed her eyes, Lily followed her, whispering truths that unraveled everything Mia thought she knew.
Across the room, Elise cast her a worried glance. Mia hadn't spoken to her much all morning. Not because she didn't want to but because the weight in her chest made breathing feel like effort.
"Mia."
The sudden sound of her name jolted her. She looked up. Mr. Jennings was staring directly at her from the front of the room.
"Would you mind joining the rest of us in the lesson?" he asked, the sarcasm in his voice thinly veiled. "Or are we keeping you from something more important?"
A few students chuckled. Heat rushed to Mia's face.
"I..am...so..rry," she stammered.
"Good," he said, turning back to the board. "As I was saying, the central theme of the passage is betrayal both self-inflicted and otherwise."
Mia dropped her gaze to her notebook, feeling the sting of embarrassment bloom like fire in her chest. She scribbled something just to make it look like she was paying attention, but the words Lily said still pressed on her lungs.
He lies. Just like his father.
Next to her, Elise slid a folded piece of paper onto her desk.
You okay?
Mia hesitated, then wrote back.
Not really.
When the bell rang, Mia practically flew out the door, but Elise caught up with her in the hallway.
"Hey," she said, gently grabbing Mia's wrist. "You've been spaced out for days. Even when you're here, you're not really *here*. Talk to me."
"I'm fine," Mia lied, again.
Elise frowned. "You're not. Is this about Lily?"
Mia hesitated.
"I don't know what it's about anymore," she said. "But it's… getting too heavy."
"Then let me carry some of it."
Mia smiled faintly, grateful. But deep down, she knew there were parts of this story she couldn't share, not even with Elise.
Later that afternoon, Henry stood by his car outside the school gates, scrolling through his phone. He had been trying to reach Mia since lunch. No response.
Then something caught his attention, an alert from a private thread he had set up with his father's legal aide.
CARL EDISON – JUVENILE HOLD EXTENDED.
Henry's brows knit together. He remembered Mia telling him that Carl had been released two days ago. She said he was "scared straight" and wouldn't bother her again.
But that wasn't true.
Carl was still locked up.
Why would she lie about that?
He stared at the message for a long time, the cold bloom of doubt creeping into his chest.
That night, Mia sat at her desk, staring at a blank sheet of paper. She tried to begin the message on her phone first, but it felt too impersonal—too easy to ignore. If she was going to do this, she had to do it the old-fashioned way.
She picked up her pen and began to write.
Henry,
I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it.
I think we need to take a break.
There's too much between us that hasn't been said. Too many secrets. Too many moments where I needed the truth, and you gave me something softer and easier.
I know you probably think I'm being unfair. Maybe I am.
But I can't keep pretending I'm okay with being in the dark especially when it feels like you're the one pulling the curtain shut.
I care about you. That's what makes this so hard.
But caring isn't enough when honesty keeps getting lost in the silence between us.
Please don't try to fix this with more smiles or reassurances.
I need space.
Not to hurt you.
But to find myself again.
-Mia-
She stared at the letter for a long time after she finished writing it, her hand hovering just above the signature. Her fingers trembled slightly.
It wasn't just about the lie.
It was about the look in Lily's eyes. The weight of Henry's silence. The ache of knowing he was hiding something so big it could crack the entire story of who they were.
She folded the paper, slid it into an envelope, and wrote his name on the front.
Then she left it by the window, where the moonlight made it gleam like a goodbye that had been waiting to happen.
The news hit Hilda like a punch to the gut.
She stood frozen outside the girls' restroom, phone in hand, staring at the text message she'd just received.
CARL EDISON – JUVENILE HOLD EXTENDED.
Her nails dug into her palm as she read it again and again, rage bubbling in her chest. It didn't make sense. Carl had told her he'd be out in a week. That it was just "a misunderstanding" blown out of proportion.
He'd even laughed about it during their last call, like it was all going to pass. But it hadn't. And now, he was still locked up. Because of her. Mia. Hilda's jaw clenched.
That weird little girl with the wide eyes and the whispery presence—always looking like she knew something the rest of the world didn't. The new girl who somehow had everyone wrapped around her finger, including Henry. Hilda thought to herself.
Hilda stormed down the hallway toward her locker, slamming it open so hard that a nearby student jumped.
She yanked her phone from her back pocket and opened the group chat she shared with Eve and two other girls.
Hilda: Guess who's still rotting in detention?
Eve: Wait, what? Carl?
Hilda: Yup. "Extended stay," they said. She totally played the victim and got him locked down.
Eve: Ugh. She's always acting like she's above everyone. Like she sees through people or whatever.
Hilda: I am done watching her play innocent. She had done enough. It is high time that I put her where she belongs.
Eve: So what are you thinking?*
Hilda stared at the screen, her reflection glaring back at her in the glossy surface.
Then she typed:
Hilda: Time to remind her what it's like to be on the other side of the story.*
She hit send, then slid her phone into her pocket with deliberate calm.
Later that afternoon, Hilda walked past Mia's locker. She didn't say anything, just watched.
Mia looked tired. Not the kind of tired that came from a long school day, but something deeper. She was zoning out again, and Elise was doing her best to keep her grounded. Hilda could see it. The distance, the cracks.
And she smiled.
"She's slipping," she whispered to herself. "Good."
Because Mia needed to learn something important something Hilda had known all along.
When you play with people's lives, when you twist the truth to make yourself look good, eventually it comes back around.
And Hilda?
She had just decided she would be the one to make that happen.