Hard.
This version of Stella?
The one that feels nothing?
The one that doesn’t look at me like I exist?
Is worse than her hating me.
At least hate meant I was still something to her.
I push through the doors into the sunlight.
The heat hits immediately.
Voices. Laughter. Campus alive like nothing’s wrong.
Across the quad, I catch a flash of movement?—
Long tan legs.
White sneakers.
Hair swinging.
Isa.
Walking toward me.
She spots me instantly.
Her face lights up.
Easy.
Open.
No armor.
“Hey,” she calls, closing the distance like it’s natural. Like we always end up in the same orbit.
I nod.
“Hey.”
She falls into step beside me without asking.
Her shoulder brushes mine.
Light.
Intentional.
“How was practice?” she asks.
“Good.”
She studies me for half a second longer than normal.
