It started with silence.
Aya sat on the edge of the couch, her backpack still slung over one shoulder even though she'd been home for twenty minutes. Her fingers fidgeted with the fraying threads on the strap. The house was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional shuffle of Itsuki in the kitchen.
Mimi was just walking in from the hallway, holding a mug of tea, when she noticed her daughter's expression.
"Aya?" she said gently, tilting her head. "You okay?"
Aya didn't answer right away. She swallowed hard, like she'd been holding something down for hours.
"Can we talk?" her voice came out quiet — too quiet for a girl who usually sang on the way home or laughed at the dinner table.
Itsuki stepped out from the kitchen, concern already in her eyes.
Mimi sat beside Aya. "Of course, sweetheart."
Aya finally let her bag fall to the floor with a soft thud.
"I want to leave," she said.
Mimi blinked. "Leave… school?"
Aya nodded slowly. "Transfer. Anywhere else. I don't care where. I just… I can't go back there."
Itsuki came over and crouched in front of her, taking Aya's hands in hers.
"Did something happen? Did someone hurt you again?"
Aya hesitated.
Then everything poured out.
About Juliet. The bullying. The humiliation. The betrayal. The way the teachers looked the other way. The way Juliet, her first love, the girl she grew up with, now laughed behind her back and poisoned the people around her.
"I tried to pretend it was okay," Aya said, her voice cracking. "I kept thinking maybe she'd come back. But she's not coming back. And I feel like I can't breathe when I walk into that building."
Mimi sat frozen, mug still in her hands.
Itsuki's eyes glistened with tears. She reached up and gently pushed Aya's hair behind her ear.
"You should've told us sooner," Itsuki said softly. "We would've done something right away."
"I didn't want to disappoint you," Aya whispered. "You and Mama always taught me to stand up for myself. To be brave. But I'm tired of being brave all the time."
Mimi finally set the mug down and pulled Aya into a hug.
"You're not disappointing us," she said firmly. "You're not. Wanting a fresh start doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're smart enough to protect your peace."
Aya broke down in her arms.
All of it — the weight of pretending she was fine, the pressure of seeing Juliet's face every day, the loneliness, the anger, the heartbreak — it all came out in gasping sobs.
And her mothers held her like they had when she was little, like the storm outside didn't matter, like she was safe right here.
By the next week, things were already in motion.
Mimi had called in every favor she had. Itsuki filled out forms late into the night. They researched schools, reviewed campuses, and even made a trip to tour a nearby private academy known for its focus on the arts — a place where Aya's love for drawing could be seen as strength, not something to be mocked.
Aya packed her things in silence the night before her first day. Her old school uniform hung limply on the doorknob, untouched. She didn't want to look at it anymore.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror — same face, same tired eyes, but something inside her was shifting.
This wasn't healing yet.
But it was a beginning.
Her first day at the new school felt like stepping onto another planet.
The building was quieter, calmer. The walls were painted with murals — real student art — and her homeroom teacher smiled when she entered.
No mocking stares. No whispers.
Just unfamiliar faces and a blank slate.
Aya sat alone at lunch, but for once, she didn't mind.
She opened her sketchbook and let her pencil drift — lines became shapes, shapes became a half-formed scene: a girl standing on a train platform, suitcase at her feet, wind catching her hair.
She was halfway into shading it when a voice interrupted.
"Is that yours?"
Aya looked up. A tall girl with dark braids and gold glasses stood beside the table, holding a tray.
"Yeah," Aya said cautiously.
The girl smiled. "That's pretty sick. You mind if I sit?"
Aya hesitated. Then shrugged. "Sure."
The girl sat down and took a sip of her juice.
"I'm Sora," she said. "You're new, right?"
"Aya."
Sora nodded toward the sketchbook. "You draw like someone who's seen some things."
Aya gave a small smile. "Yeah. I guess I have."
They didn't talk much after that. Just shared the table in comfortable silence. But when lunch ended, Sora looked back and said, "If you ever want to hang out after school, there's a comic club that meets in the art room. Chill group. No drama."
Aya blinked.
No drama.
She almost laughed.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll think about it."
That night, Aya sat curled up on the couch while Mimi and Itsuki watched TV. Mimi had fallen asleep halfway through a drama. Itsuki was scrolling through her tablet. The lights were dim, the room warm.
Aya looked over at them.
They looked older now. Softer. Tired in a way they never used to be when she was younger. But also… stronger.
Aya stood up and went to the kitchen.
She returned with two mugs of tea — just how they liked it.
When she placed them gently on the table, Itsuki looked up in surprise.
"What's this?"
Aya smiled faintly. "Thank you. For everything. For… letting me start over."
Itsuki squeezed her hand.
"You never have to thank us for protecting you," she said. "That's our job."
Mimi stirred and yawned. "Did we win the lottery or something?"
Aya giggled for the first time in weeks.
"No. Just… felt like being nice."
Mimi sat up and pulled her into a side hug, her cheek against Aya's temple.
"Starting over's hard, baby. But you're gonna be okay. You're tougher than you think."
Aya believed her.
For the first time in a long time… she actually believed it.