"Harper, you can't be like this forever," Tyla said, her voice firm but tinged with worry.
The only response she got was muffled silence. Harper's face was buried deep in her pillow, shoulders hunched and still. The blanket was drawn up to her back, as if she were trying to build a fortress out of thin sheets and silence.
Tyla folded her arms, staring at the lump that was her best friend. "I mean it. You're gonna suffocate in there before you drown in tears. You think the Dean deserves that? You think he deserves even a fraction of your misery?"
No answer. Not even a twitch.
Tyla sighed, walking closer to the bed. "Look, I get it. He was harsh. Cruel, even. But you—you were just trying to protect him, Harper. Don't you see that? You went through all that trouble, all that pretending, because you didn't want to embarrass him. And instead, he made you feel like you're the problem." She shook her head. "He doesn't deserve these tears. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever."
