Funmi sat under the old oak tree near the library courtyard, her notebook open but her pen unmoving. The words refused to come. Every time she tried to write, her mind drifted back to the ache in her chest — the one she carried like a quiet bruise no one could see.
Lizzy was supposed to meet her ten minutes ago, but she hadn't shown up. Ben had passed by earlier, flashing a small smile and a casual wave. He'd been quieter lately, more careful with his words around her.
She wasn't sure if she liked that.
The wind rustled the pages of her notebook, and she snapped it shut. Just as she stood up, Lizzy appeared from around the corner, hair disheveled, cheeks red.
"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly, "Class ran over."
Funmi looked at her closely. "Are you okay?"
Lizzy hesitated. Then nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just tired."
But her eyes betrayed her. They were clouded — distant. As if her thoughts were someplace far away.
They sat together in silence for a while. Funmi wanted to ask her more, but she didn't know how. She knew what it felt like to be cornered by concern. Sometimes silence was the only space one could breathe in.
Still, a part of her longed for someone to notice when she was breaking.
So she took a breath and said softly, "You don't have to talk about it. But if you ever want to... I'm here."
Lizzy turned to her, and for a second, her mask cracked. Her lips quivered, her jaw clenched. But all she said was, "Thanks."
It wasn't much.
But it was a beginning.