Anne hadn't realized how much she'd needed Mira until she had her.
Their friendship bloomed quietly, like wildflowers in a forgotten field. Mira didn't ask Anne to change—she simply saw her, listened, and stayed. They spent lunches tucked into corners of the library, trading book recommendations and doodling in each other's notebooks. Mira had a way of making the ordinary feel enchanted, like every moment mattered.
Anne felt lighter. Braver. Like she was finally becoming the person she'd always hoped she could be.
But Eastbridge High had a way of punishing happiness.
It started with whispers.
Anne heard them in the hallway—soft, sharp, and unmistakably cruel.
"Did you hear? Mira lied about her dad being some big-shot engineer."
"I heard she got kicked out of her last school for stealing."
"Apparently she's not even supposed to be here. She's hiding something."
Anne froze by her locker, her fingers tightening around her books. The voices belonged to Brittany's clique, their laughter slicing through the air like razors.
Brittany leaned against the lockers, her arms crossed, a smug smile on her lips. "I mean, it's kind of sad, right? Anne finally makes a friend, and it turns out she's a total fraud."
Anne's stomach twisted. She turned and walked away, her heart pounding.
She found Mira in the art room, sketching a city skyline in charcoal. Her fingers were smudged, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she saw Anne, she smiled—but it faltered when she saw her face.
"What happened?" Mira asked, setting down the charcoal.
Anne hesitated. "There are… rumors. About you."
Mira's expression didn't change. She just nodded slowly. "Let me guess. I'm a thief, a liar, and probably a spy."
Anne blinked. "You knew?"
Mira sighed, brushing charcoal dust from her hands. "It happens every time. New school, new whispers. People don't like what they don't understand."
"But it's not true, right?" Anne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mira looked at her then—really looked at her. "Do you think it's true?"
Anne didn't answer right away. She thought about the way Mira had listened to her, defended her, made her feel seen. She thought about the stories they'd shared, the laughter, the quiet moments that felt like magic.
"No," Anne said finally. "I don't."
Mira smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "Then that's all that matters."
Later that day, Anne confronted Brittany.
She found her in the courtyard, surrounded by her usual entourage. Brittany raised an eyebrow when Anne approached.
"Well, look who's feeling bold," she said, her voice syrupy and sharp.
Anne didn't flinch. "Why are you spreading lies about Mira?"
Brittany shrugged. "I'm just telling people what they deserve to know. You think she's your friend, but she's just using you. She's not who she says she is."
"You don't know her," Anne said, her voice steady.
"And you do?" Brittany snapped. "You've known her for what—five minutes? People like her don't stick around. They leave. They lie. They disappear."
Anne's jaw tightened. "Maybe people like you are the reason they do."
Brittany's eyes narrowed, but Anne didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked away, her heart racing—but her spine straight.
That evening, Anne and Mira sat on the roof of Mira's apartment building, watching the stars blink into existence.
"I'm sorry," Anne said quietly. "For what Brittany said. For even doubting you for a second."
Mira leaned back on her elbows, her gaze fixed on the sky. "You didn't doubt me. You asked. That's different."
Anne smiled, the tension in her chest easing. "You're not going to disappear, are you?"
Mira turned to her, her indigo eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Not if I can help it."
They sat in silence, the city humming below them, the stars whispering above.
And somewhere in the distance, Zahir watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
Because friendship, like magic, was powerful.
And sometimes, just as dangerous.