The house was quiet that evening, the kind of quiet that settles after a long school day when the world outside slows down.
Jade had come home later than usual—after walking Rose partway to the bus stop, after lingering at the gates with small talk that felt anything but small.
She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and padded into the kitchen where her parents were already eating dinner.
Her mom looked up from her plate of pasta, smiling.
"You're late tonight.
Everything okay?"
Jade slid into her usual chair.
"Yeah.
Just… stayed a bit longer at school."
Her dad raised an eyebrow over his glass of water.
"With that friend you keep mentioning?
Rose?"
Jade felt her face warm before she could stop it.
She reached for the bowl of pasta her mom had set aside for her.
"Yeah.
Rose."
Her mom exchanged a quick glance with her dad—small, knowing, the kind parents share when they think their child hasn't noticed.
"She's the one you've been studying with a lot lately," her mom said, tone light but curious.
"The one who came over for the sleepover?"
Jade nodded, twirling pasta around her fork.
"She invited me to her place last weekend.
Her mom made breakfast.
Her brother Ethan was there too.
It was nice."
Her dad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely.
"Nice, huh?
You talk about her a lot these days."
Jade looked up, fork pausing.
"Do I?"
Her mom smiled—gentle, teasing.
"You do.
'Rose said this,' 'Rose likes that,' 'Rose helped me with this question.'
It's sweet."
Jade felt the heat climb higher in her cheeks.
"She's just… a good friend.
We get along.
That's all."
Her dad chuckled softly.
"A good friend who makes you smile like that when you say her name?
Sure, kiddo."
Jade ducked her head, focusing on her plate.
"It's not like that.
We just… hang out , study , talk quiet a lot
Her mom reached over and touched Jade's wrist lightly.
"Honey, we're not teasing you because we think it's wrong.
We're teasing you because we see how happy you look lately.
And that makes us happy too."
Jade exhaled slowly.
"I know.
It's just… she's different.
She listens.
Really listens.
And she doesn't make me feel like I have to be loud or funny or anything.
I can just… be."
Her dad's teasing softened into something warmer.
"That's rare.
Someone who lets you be exactly who you are."
Jade nodded, still looking down at her food.
"Yeah.
It is."
Her mom tilted her head.
"Have you told her how much you like spending time with her?"
Jade's fork stilled.
"Not… exactly.
I mean, I think she knows.
We don't really say those things out loud."
Her dad smiled.
"Sometimes you don't have to.
But when you do… it changes things.
In a good way."
Jade finally looked up.
"I don't want to mess it up.
She's… important."
Her mom's expression turned tender.
"Then keep being the friend she needs.
The rest will come when it's ready."
They ate quietly for a few minutes after that.
The kitchen clock ticked softly.
Outside, the first crickets of early spring began to call.
When Jade finished her plate, she carried it to the sink.
Her mom followed, standing beside her while they rinsed dishes together.
"You know," her mom said, voice low so her dad wouldn't overhear, "your dad and I were just friends once too.
For a long time.
We didn't name it either.
Not until we couldn't not name it anymore."
Jade glanced at her sideways.
"Really?"
Her mom smiled.
"Really.
Sometimes the best things start quietly."
Jade dried her hands on a towel.
"Thanks, Mom."
Her mom pulled her into a quick, warm hug.
"Anytime, sweetheart.
Just… be honest with yourself.
Even if you're not ready to be honest with her yet."
Jade hugged back, feeling the familiar safety of her mother's arms.
"I will."
Upstairs in her room later, Jade sat on her bed with her notebook open.
She stared at the blank page for a long time.
She didn't write anything tonight.
Not because there were no words, but because the words felt too big, too close to the surface.
Instead she thought about Rose—about the way she had smiled when Jade caught her in the corridor, about the soft trust in her eyes when she said because you were there, about the yellow paint still on the tip of her nose in Jade's memory.
She closed the notebook gently.
The feeling inside her had grown again—quiet, persistent, no longer small enough to ignore.
She didn't name it yet.
But she let it stay, warm and certain, like the first steady breath after waking from a long dream.
Monday would come soon enough.
And Rose would be there.