"Healing is not a straight line.
Some days, the past knocks so loud,
You forget how far you've come."
————————————————————
Aira didn't sleep.
She lay in bed with the phone clutched to her chest, replaying every version of her potential reply.
"Hey, Mira. I hope you're doing well too."
Too polite.
"Mira… why now?"
Too open.
"Please don't contact me again."
Too final.
Each draft felt like betrayal—to her boundaries, or to her grief.
Because somewhere deep inside, she still wanted to understand why Mira had reached out.
Why now.
Why her.
The rational part of her knew Mira's message was a storm pretending to be sunshine. But the ache inside her chest… it still whispered:
"Maybe she changed."
"Maybe she regrets everything."
"Maybe I'm the one who misunderstood."
Overthinking is a thief.
She thought about the nights she'd cried on the dorm floor while Mira texted other people.
She thought about the way Mira had controlled her schedule, her outfits, her voice — with compliments that sounded like orders.
"You're prettier when you don't speak so much."
"Don't post that, it makes you look desperate."
"I know you better than you know yourself."
And the worst part?
She believed it.
Because love that comes wrapped in validation is the hardest to see as poison.
And tonight, it stole her sleep.
The next day, Aira didn't leave her room.
Mae's texts went unread.
Ray's messages sat unopened.
Her coursework notifications stacked up like reminders that life was still moving—even if she wasn't.
Her thoughts were loud again.
Too loud.
She stared at the ceiling and thought:
"What if Mira was right? What if I really am too much?"
"What if I ruined everything by walking away?"
"What if everyone I love eventually gets tired of me?"
She didn't cry. Not this time.
She just… went still.
Like something inside her had curled up and gone silent.
That afternoon, the world outside her window blurred with rain.
And somehow, that felt appropriate.
Aira finally answered a message.
Not to Mira.
But to Ray.
[ AIRA: ]
sorry for disappearing again.
my brain's being mean.
It took only a minute for his reply to come.
[ RAY: ]
my brain does that too sometimes
we should bully our brains together
two can play at that game
She smiled. Barely.
But it counted.
[ RAY: ]
You don't have to say what's going on
but I'm around
if you want to sit in silence and exist with someone, I'm good at that.
Aira stared at the message, her throat tight.
It was such a quiet offer.
But it felt like a lifeline.
She didn't talk to Ray that day.
But she did put on socks.
She did brush her hair.
She did eat half a granola bar.
And that was more than yesterday.
And for now, that was enough.
She wrote:
"I wish people knew that healing doesn't always look like smiling.
Sometimes it looks like surviving 2am without texting your ex-friend back.
Sometimes it looks like brushing your teeth after crying.
Sometimes it looks like doing nothing,
but choosing not to bleed again."