Footsteps crunched across the grass when I spotted them near the courtyard.
Tuesday stretched on, heavy and slow, three days past the moment Brooklyn faced off against Daniel near the bikes. Since then, she had returned to her room crying, words spilling out to Ella between breaths. Three full days now since she vowed to push forward - a promise too loud, maybe, to be real.
Back then, everything still felt like a mystery. Not one piece made sense.
Under the oak tree, Brooklyn sat on a bench, caught in real laughter. A sound came from deep inside, not forced or quiet. The man beside her said something - her head tipped back, fingers resting on his sleeve. Joy moved through her like wind. Months had passed since I last saw her like that.
And it hurt.
God, it hurt.
