The walk from the park was quiet, but it was a different kind of silence now. No bitter emptiness. Just a steady warmth between us, like an invisible string linking Grace and me. Every time our shoulders bumped, my chest would seize up in this weird mix of fear and comfort.
We stopped where our streets split. Grace paused, her hand hovering by her side like she almost went to grab mine again. She settled for a smile instead—that soft, knowing look.
"See you tomorrow?" she asked.
I just nodded, my throat too tight for anything bigger. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
She gave a light wave and headed for home. I stood there, watching her disappear into the dim, orange pool of the streetlamps. For once, the shadows didn't feel like a threat.
That night, I sat at my desk with the diary open. It was just a book, sure, but it felt heavier than anything else in the room. I flipped through the pages I knew by heart, the ones that had chronicled events, moments, even the smallest screw-ups, long before they happened.
Until tonight.
My fingers brushed the page where the script should have been: Grace's hand in mine, her whispered confession, the actual kiss under the fading sky. Nothing. The last prophecy just ended abruptly, the ink trailing off into a blank spot.
"Why not?" I whispered, my heart hammering. "Why didn't it write this?"
The diary had always been a total jerk, predicting the whispers, the lies, the loneliness that would swallow me. But not this. Not Grace.
I slammed the book shut. The noise echoed in the small room. For the first time, I wondered if the diary's silence was actually worse than its warnings. If it didn't know the future anymore, what the hell did that mean? Was I finally off the hook—or was something even worse just waiting around the corner?
Muffled voices drifted up from downstairs—my parents, again.
"I'm telling you, we can't keep fighting like this," my mom's voice, totally frayed.
My dad's reply was defensive, clipped. "So what do you want? Me to pretend everything's perfect?"
"You don't get it," she pressed, louder now. "He hears us every single time. He sits up there, acting like he can't, but he does. Don't you see? We're hurting him. This is damaging him in ways we can't fix."
I froze, a sick knot tightening in my stomach.
Damaging him.
I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears, but the words were already inside, settling down heavy and sharp, just another layer on top of all my other doubts.
I climbed into bed with the diary pressed flat against my chest, eyes squeezed shut. For the first time in weeks, I prayed the stupid book would say something, even if it was the worst news possible. Sleep came slow, a mash-up of my parents' arguing and Grace's voice, soft and absolutely sure, telling me I wasn't alone.
Morning sunlight woke me. I sat up, groggy, and stared at the diary on the nightstand. Still closed. Still silent.
I forced myself into my uniform. At least I had one thing to look forward to.
Grace was waiting outside the school gate. Seeing her was like letting out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. The second our eyes met, she smiled, and I felt my own face mirroring it without having to think about it.
"You look better today," she teased gently as I walked up.
"Do I?" My mouth twitched up.
"Mmhm. Happier," she said, brushing her hair back. "I like that look on you."
I ducked my head, totally unsure what to say. Somehow, her simple comment made me feel lighter than any supposed reassurance from the diary ever could.
When we walked into the classroom, Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and Sophia tilted her head, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Neither said anything, but their glances lingered. Grace just acted like it was completely normal, her presence like a solid shield.
Classes were the usual grind, but my focus was shot. I kept catching myself staring at Grace, my thoughts looping back to last night: the kiss, the blank page, the way everything suddenly felt fragile and exciting all at once.
At lunch, Ryan leaned back in his chair, flashing his signature grin. "So, check this out: we've got a couple of days off coming up. We are not wasting that. Amusement park trip, anyone?"
Sophia immediately perked up. "That sounds perfect. It's been forever since we did something fun together."
Grace nodded, enthusiastic. "I'm definitely in."
All eyes landed on me. I hesitated—I suck in crowds, and amusement parks felt like a giant neon sign pointing out how awkward I am. But then Grace looked at me, that warm, expectant smile on her face, and I couldn't bail.
"Yeah," I said, quieter than them, but I meant it. "Let's do it."
Ryan clapped his hands, satisfied. "Boom. Settled."
Sophia's gaze snagged on me, holding a little longer than usual. When we locked eyes, she quickly looked away, her cheeks faintly pink. I frowned, confused, but Ryan was already dragging her into a conversation, leaving me with a strange, unnamed tension.
The rest of the day carried a lightness we hadn't shared in ages. We talked, we joked, and the gaps between classes were filled with small, easy chatter that felt… normal. Normal was weird for me. I even laughed out loud once or twice, and while the sound startled me, Grace's answering grin made it feel okay.
Still, there were these little moments. Sophia touching her hair when she spoke to me. Her glances stayed too long. The softness in her voice when she offered me the last piece of her snack. Each one was a tiny prick, leaving me feeling totally off-balance.
By the final bell, I was exhausted but strangely energized. As students filed out, I stopped to grab a book I'd forgotten. That's when I heard it—Grace's voice.
She was talking to one of our teachers in the back corner, her tone hushed and stressed. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the words carried right to me.
"I just… I don't know how much longer I can keep it together," Grace admitted, her voice trembling. "At home, everything's falling apart. I try not to let it show, but… It's getting harder every day."
I froze, the strap of my bag digging into my shoulder.
Her family.Falling apart.
I'd never seen her waver, never imagined the girl who seemed to carry her own light could be weighed down by private chaos.
"I don't want anyone here to know," she continued, quieter now. "Please, just keep this totally between us."
My heart was pounding. I backed away before she or the teacher could see me, my mind racing.
Grace—the one who told me I wasn't alone, who stood steady when I was falling apart—was going through her own hell that I hadn't even guessed at.
And for the first time, it hit me. The silence of the diary wasn't just about my life changing.
Maybe the future was shifting not because I had broken the script, but because Grace had her own story unfolding—a story I was only just beginning to realize was even there.