High school wasn't supposed to feel like this.
Aya used to imagine it differently when she was little. She thought it would be laughing with Juliet between classes, walking home hand-in-hand, maybe sneaking glances during chemistry because they'd still be best friends. Maybe more.
But that's not what happened.
Not even close.
It had been years since Mimi and Itsuki adopted her. Years since Juliet and Aya had spent entire weekends in each other's rooms building blanket forts, whispering about how they'd always be together.
But now?
Juliet barely looked at her.
At first, Aya didn't notice the distance. It crept in slowly. Like fog. One late reply. One missed walk home. One lunch eaten with someone else.
Then it got worse.
Juliet started wearing eyeliner. She stopped wearing that pink beanie she loved. She stopped calling Aya before bed.
She started hanging out with them — the cool crowd. The ones who posted pictures at parties and made inside jokes Aya was never a part of.
Aya tried to brush it off. "She's just busy," she told herself.
But one afternoon in the hallway told her everything.
Juliet was walking with Rio, Ava, and the others. Laughing loud. Holding a fancy drink from that overpriced café near school. Aya walked up to her, hope bubbling in her chest.
"Hey!" Aya said, breathless. "Want to hang out after school today? I finally finished the new manga you gave me."
Juliet didn't even stop walking.
She gave a sideways glance. "Can't. My group chat's meeting up."
Aya blinked. "Group chat?"
Juliet laughed. "You know, people who actually go to parties?"
The others snickered.
Aya stood there, frozen. Watching Juliet walk away.
She didn't even turn back.
The weeks after that felt like being erased.
Juliet stopped talking to her completely.
At school, she walked right past Aya like she didn't exist. Sat at the back of the class whispering with her new friends, while Aya sat alone in the front. When they used to laugh at lunch, now Juliet rolled her eyes when Aya passed by.
It wasn't just distance anymore.
It was cruelty.
One day in P.E., when Aya stumbled during volleyball and landed flat on her back, Juliet smirked.
"Careful, Aya," she said loud enough for everyone to hear, "you trip over your own loneliness."
Laughter exploded from her group.
Aya's ears turned red. She wanted to disappear.
She couldn't understand it. How Juliet — her Juliet — could stand there and laugh with the people who made Aya feel like trash.
She kept trying to tell herself there was still a good person under there. Still the same girl who once held her hand under the covers during a thunderstorm.
But that girl was gone.
Aya finally broke during lunch on a rainy Thursday.
Juliet had just made fun of another kid — a shy boy named Yuto who stuttered during presentations. Juliet called him "Dial-up." Everyone laughed.
Even the teachers didn't seem to care anymore.
And when Aya caught Juliet smirking at her from across the room like it was all a game, something inside snapped.
She waited until the hallway was clear. Then she marched straight up to Juliet near the lockers.
Juliet was checking her phone, earbuds in, gum popping between her teeth.
"We need to talk."
Juliet didn't look up. "Busy."
Aya yanked one of her earbuds out.
"I'm serious, Juliet. What the hell happened to you?"
Juliet finally looked at her.
"I got tired of pretending."
"Pretending what? That we mattered?" Aya's voice cracked. "That I mattered?"
Juliet shrugged. "We were kids, Aya. It was cute back then. But I'm not playing make-believe anymore."
Aya's heart felt like it was being stepped on.
"We were dating," she said. "You told me you loved me."
Juliet scoffed. "We were nine. We didn't know what love meant."
"You held my hand," Aya whispered. "You kissed me and said we'd grow up together. You told me you wanted to be like my moms."
Juliet's expression turned cold. "Your moms are a joke."
Aya froze.
"You think that's normal? That I was seriously gonna grow up and marry a girl? You're delusional."
Aya stepped back like she'd been slapped.
"You were the one who kissed me first," she said. "You were the one who told me not to be ashamed."
Juliet looked her dead in the eyes. "Well, I changed my mind. Get over it."
Aya's fists clenched.
"So you just erase everything we were? And now what — bully me? Laugh with your little squad while you tear people down?"
Juliet shrugged. "Better than sitting alone drawing fantasy girlfriends in your notebook."
Aya's lip trembled. Her throat felt tight.
"You're a coward," she said, voice low. "You're scared to be who you really are, so you act like this — mean and fake and hollow. But I remember the real you. You weren't like this."
Juliet's jaw twitched, just barely.
"I don't owe you anything," she snapped.
"No," Aya said, stepping back. "But I deserved better than this."
That night, Aya didn't cry.
She stared at her bedroom ceiling for hours.
Not because she was empty — but because she was done.
Done begging.
Done waiting.
Done being silent.
The next day, when Juliet threw another jab at her in the hallway — something petty, about Aya's outfit — Aya didn't flinch.
She stared Juliet down in front of everyone and said, loud and clear:
"You used to be kind. You used to be worth something. Now all you are is afraid."
And for the first time, Juliet didn't laugh.
For the first time, her voice got caught in her throat.
She looked around — her friends watching. Waiting.
But no one laughed with her.
No one clapped.
No one called Aya weird.
Juliet looked… small.
And Aya walked away.
Not crying.
Not broken.
Just... done.