Aleah's POV
The dream came sudden and suffocating.
I was sinking — not in water, but in something thicker, heavier. A red river, slow and clinging like spilled paint. It pulled at my arms, filled my mouth, blurred my vision. On the banks, Ivy and Yasmin stood together. Unmoving. Their faces were expressionless — not angry, not sad — just... done.
They didn't reach for me.
I wanted to scream, to call out, but the river choked every sound. And in that silence, something inside me split.
I deserved this, didn't I?
I woke up gasping. My sheets tangled around my legs like vines. My cheeks were wet.
I touched them and froze.
Tears. Real ones.
I hadn't cried since the bathroom. Since him. Since I decided I wouldn't be soft anymore.
But that night… softness found me anyway. In the dark. In the dream.
Monday.
The school hallways felt wrong — too bright, too loud. I walked through them like a ghost rehearsing humanity. I could feel the old version of me trailing just behind, still bleeding from places no one ever asked about.
Then I heard her.
"Hey… Aleah?"
I turned.
Yasmin.
She looked unsure, thumb hooked under the strap of her bag, eyes flicking to the floor and back again.
"I just—" she began, "Ivy's been asking about you. She said you've barely said a word in weeks. What's going on?"
I blinked slowly, as if the words had to filter through layers of frost to reach me.
"I just…" I shifted my weight. "I've been going through something. Quietly."
Her expression softened. Concerned. Maybe even guilty.
I let the pause stretch, then added, "I didn't want to project it onto Ivy. She doesn't deserve that."
Yasmin looked at me, searching my face.
For a second, I wondered if she could tell.
That it wasn't guilt in my eyes.
It was strategy.
She touched my arm gently. "If you ever wanna talk…"
I smiled — not too much. Just enough to sell the sadness.
"Thanks," I whispered. "That means a lot."