Aly gasped. “You spoke! Like—whole sentences!”
I couldn’t stop smiling. It felt strange, like my face had forgotten how to do it for real, but the warmth in my chest was too much to hide. “I d-didn’t mean to,” I admitted, voice trembling but steady enough to hold. “It just…happened.”
And it had, slowly, quietly, over the weeks with Joshua. Talking to Honey, whispering words under my breath, answering him when he’d tease or ask small things. It wasn’t easy, but it got easier.
Jennie chuckled, ruffling my hair with that soft smile she always had with me. “I’m so proud of you, oh my God.”
Aly tugged me in for another hug. “See? You can do it. We told you—you just needed time.”
Their voices melted into one another, all laughter and warmth, and I felt the edges of my heart stretch just a little wider.
I was Aurora Mae Campbell, speaking, laughing, living. And it felt good. Really good.
Thanks to…him.
—
Classroom chatter buzzed around me, soft and familiar, like background noise I hadn’t realised I missed until now. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly above, and Professor Smith stood at the front with a stack of graded reports in her hands.
My heart thudded when she called my name.
I stood up, walked to her desk, and she handed me the stapled packet with a small, approving smile.
“Excellent work, Aurora,” she said. “Truly. You didn’t just write about performance psychology—you understood it.”
My eyes flicked down to the front page.
A perfect, bold A.
She smiled wider. “You captured the athlete’s mindset perfectly. The mental load, the emotional isolation, and even the resilience were sharp, empathetic, and detailed. You should show it to Joshua; he’d be proud you understood him that well.”
My breath caught for a second. Joshua.
I nodded quickly, hiding the tiny tremor in my fingers as I took the paper.
“Th-thank you,” I managed, voice small but clear enough.
She gave my arm a gentle pat. “You’ve got a gift, Aurora. Don’t forget that.”
I walked back to my seat, the sound of my shoes echoing faintly against the floor.
When I sat down, I looked at the bold red grade again.
Sport Psychology.
Top of the class.
My throat tightened.
I did it.
I actually did it.
Even with everything, the stress, the cast, the bruises, the noise in my head, I managed to pull through.
Mrs Smith’s words replayed softly:He’d be proud.
Maybe he would… because I was really proud of myself for pushing through. I did it.
