March tiptoed in, trailing hints of spring behind it—just a whisper of warmth in the breeze, just enough sunlight to make Lily squint as she walked home.
Everything still felt fragile.
But fragile didn't mean broken.
At school, Sophie was a constant now. They shared glances in the hall, private eye-rolls during math, and lunchtime laughter that made Lily's stomach flip in the best way. Not from nerves. From joy.
"I found something," Sophie said one day, sliding a flyer across the cafeteria table. "It's an open mic night. For teens. Poetry, music, whatever. You should do it."
Lily blinked. "Me?"
"You."
"I don't perform."
"You could," Sophie said gently. "You've got so much to say."
Lily stared at the flyer. The date was two weeks away.
"I'll go if you go," Sophie added. "We can even write something together."
That made Lily smile. "Okay. Deal."
---
That afternoon, she stopped at Fable & Thread, as she always did on Tuesdays. She found Nathan reorganizing a display of fantasy novels, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy.
"Guess what?" she said.
Nathan looked up. "You won the lottery and decided to invest it all in rare comic books?"
"Close. I'm doing an open mic night. With Sophie."
Nathan's face lit up. "Look at you. You're turning into a proper troublemaker."
Lily laughed. "More like a very anxious poet."
"You'll be amazing," he said without hesitation.
She hesitated. "I haven't written anything yet. I mean… not something I'd want to say out loud."
Nathan leaned against the shelf, looking thoughtful. "What would you want people to know if you could say anything—without fear, without judgment?"
Lily stared at the floor. "That I'm not who they think I am. That I'm not just the quiet girl in the corner. That there's more to me than what they see."
Nathan nodded. "Then start there."
She chewed the inside of her cheek, then looked up at him. "Did you ever feel that way?"
"All the time," he said. "When I was your age, I was invisible too. But also too loud when it didn't matter, and never brave when it did."
"And now?"
Nathan smiled softly. "Now I'm learning to live with both versions of myself."
Lily felt the air shift between them—gentle, but charged. Like standing near a fire that hadn't caught flame yet but was warm just the same.
"You help me do that," she said quietly.
His eyes flicked to hers, deeper than a glance, something that lingered. "That goes both ways, you know."
She looked down, heart fluttering.
It was terrifying how seen she felt in that moment.
---
That night, Lily sat on her bed, sketchbook open, but for once she didn't draw. She wrote.
She wrote about a girl who used to believe her body was a battlefield, that her silence was a weakness, that being alone meant being unwanted.
She wrote about transformation.
About being soft and strong at the same time.
About finding a voice she didn't know she had.
When she finished, her hands were shaking, but her chest felt lighter.
She texted Sophie:
I think I'm ready to read something.
Sophie replied immediately:
YES. I'm proud of you. Want to write together tomorrow?
Lily smiled.
Absolutely.
She looked out her window. The moon was thin, a sliver of light, but still glowing.
She liked that—how something didn't have to be whole to shine.
---
The next few days passed in a blur of writing sessions, shared playlists, and library meetups. Lily and Sophie laughed so hard once in the poetry aisle that the librarian shushed them—and then smiled anyway.
At school, Rachel watched them now with narrowed eyes. But Lily didn't flinch. Sophie was by her side. And more importantly, she was by her side.
Her own.
She was finally learning how to stand with herself.
And every time Nathan looked at her that way—like she mattered, like she was worth more than she gave herself credit for—something inside her stitched back together.
Spring hadn't arrived in full.
But Lily could feel it coming.
And this time, she was ready to bloom.