(Lizzy's POV)
It had been raining again softly this time, the kind of rain that whispered against windows and made the world slow down. Lizzy walked across the courtyard, her umbrella tilted just enough to shield her from the drizzle.
She saw Ben sitting under the old oak tree their oak tree a cup of coffee steaming beside him. Even in the gray light, he seemed unbothered, like rain and quiet were just another language he understood.
"You're going to catch a cold," she said, approaching him.
He looked up, smiling. "Then I'll have an excuse to skip class."
Lizzy rolled her eyes and sat beside him, her umbrella now covering them both. For a while, they listened to the rain tapping gently against the leaves above.
Ben finally broke the silence. "You seem quieter than usual."
"I'm always quiet," she replied softly.
"Not like this," he said, studying her face. "This kind of quiet feels heavy."
Lizzy hesitated, her fingers tightening around the umbrella handle. "Do you ever feel like some memories don't fade they just wait?"
Ben's voice dropped to a whisper. "Every day."
That answer loosened something inside her a knot she didn't even know she'd been holding.
"There's something I never told anyone," she began. "Not even Funmi."
He didn't move, didn't rush her. He just waited patient, open.
"I used to think being strong meant staying silent," Lizzy said, her voice trembling. "When something bad happened, I buried it so deep I convinced myself it didn't matter. But it did. It changed me."
Ben looked down, his jaw tightening with quiet empathy. "It's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to explain everything. I just want you to know you don't need to hide anymore."
Her throat ached with emotion. "I'm scared of letting people see the broken parts."
He turned toward her, his eyes warm and steady. "That's the thing about broken parts, Lizzy they still reflect light."
The words hit her like sunlight through rain clouds gentle, but strong enough to reach the places she thought were too dark to touch.
Without thinking, she whispered, "I don't want to be afraid of my own story anymore."
Ben smiled faintly. "Then start by telling it to someone who won't run."
The silence that followed wasn't empty it was full of something new. Understanding.
After a while, Lizzy leaned her head on his shoulder, hesitant at first. He didn't move just let her be. The sound of the rain filled the space between their heartbeats, steady and calm.
She didn't say thank you. She didn't have to.
In that quiet, Lizzy realized something important healing didn't always come with grand gestures or perfect timing. Sometimes, it was found in small, ordinary moments like rain, or stillness, or a boy who stayed even when words failed.