The corridor was not the same.
Same mirror floor. Same scent of sanitizing air. Same whispers coiled like smoke.
But today, Aria didn't walk like a queen.
She walked like a girl who listened to the truth and did not turn aside.
Her blazer was unbuttoned.
Her hair, pulled into a simple braid.
Her eyes did not search for a spotlight.
And everyone knew.
"She's acting strangely."
"Is that Aria? What happened to her face?"
"She didn't post anything last night. Not even a post."
"Perhaps she's sick."
"Perhaps she's broken."
Naomi caught up to her at the lockers.
"Okay, what is it?"
Aria paused, opening her locker. "What are you talking about?"
Naomi crossed her arms. "You've been acting weird since yesterday. You didn't answer my texts. You ghosted on the group call. And she whispered You're not wearing foundation. Aria. Foundation."
Aria let out a small, laughter-filled breath. "I didn't feel like it."
Naomi blinked. "You didn't feel like it? Girl, are you breaking down or rebranding?"
Before Aria could say anything, a low buzz vibrated through the hallway.
Zuri was entering.
Alone.
Head held high.
Red thread bracelet visible on her wrist like a rebellious whisper.
Naomi scowled. "Ugh. She really has no shame."
Aria looked slightly in Zuri's direction. Their eyes crossed briefly.
Zuri didn't smile.
She didn't look away either.
Then she kept walking.
Past them.
Past the judgment.
Into the fire.
Naomi leaned in. "You are acting weird. Is there something you're not telling me?"
Aria took a slow breath.
This was it.
That old voice inside her Be perfect. Be untouchable. Be feared.
But there was another voice now too.
Be real.
Aria shut her locker.
Then turned toward Naomi and said:
"I talked to her."
Naomi blinked. "Who?"
"You know who."
"You what?!"
"I asked her to come meet me," Aria continued, cool but firm. "And she did. We talked. That's it."
Naomi looked like she had just been hit.
"Aria, she wrecked your rep. She humiliated you. She's pretty much the reason people started wondering about about you. And now you're just… what? Playing shrink?"
"I'm not playing anything," Aria replied. "Once."
Naomi's mouth dropped open in shock.
Aria didn't stick around for more.
She turned and walked away.
Every step was glass.
But also like freedom.
Later that afternoon, in the middle of third period, Aria did the unthinkable.
Ms. Banner was taking attendance in Literature class when Aria raised her hand.
"Yes, Aria?"
"I'd like to share something," she said, standing.
The class fell silent.
She walked to the front, pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her bag, and unfolded it with trembling fingers.
"I wrote that last night," she said. "It's entitled The Other Half of Me."
Zuri remained still in the back row.
Everyone shifted to look at her.
But Aria didn't hesitate.
She began to read.
"The Other Half of Me"
I used to believe I was complete.
Trophies. Straight As. A reflection that I could edit.
But then a mirror appeared I didn't invite
She had my face. My silence. My tale.
But not my life.
And I hated her for it.
Because at the bottom of myself, I knew…
She was the proof that something was lost from both of us.
And maybe parting with it would set us free.
The class was completely still.
Even Ms. Banner was quiet.
When Aria folded the paper, took it, and sat back down, Zuri's eyes met hers again.
This time, she nodded.
Once.
Like a door slowly opening.
Not entirely.
Just a little.
Zuri stayed in class long after the bell.
Students walked past her, their conversation hushed, stunned like they'd just witnessed something too actual to meme, too personal to share like gossip.
She didn't even look.
Her eyes were fixed on the front of the classroom where Aria stood.
The girl who'd insulted her as a stray, a mistake, a shadow.
The girl who'd now recited a poem that was an olive branch.
A start.
An opening that never would have happened.
Aria departed at a more leisurely rate than normal.
Her heart pounded in her ears, palms slick with perspiration. She had no clue what she'd expected laughing, judgment, perhaps even the aside comment of a teacher about emotional boundaries.
But what she got instead was silence.
And from that silence… peace.
Not the airbrushed kind she was used to.
Not the kind you fabricated.
This was imperfect, still in bloom, still bruised but authentic.
And she yearned for more of it.
Standing in the hallway, Naomi had her arms crossed, expression blank.
"You wrote that about her?"
Aria didn't reply at once.
Then: "Yes."
Naomi laughed. "Why? What, you think she's your lost soul sister now?"
"No," Aria replied, chin going up. "I think she's my twin."
Naomi blinked. "You're not kidding."
Aria didn't blink. "I am."
And before Naomi could respond, she added quietly but firmly:
"I don't need your approval for this, Naomi. Not anymore."
She walked past her, leaving behind the only copy of herself she'd ever been known for.
Zuri reached up to her in the courtyard, sitting alone under the oak tree where the golden kids always sat for yearbook photos.
There wasn't a crowd this time.
Only the two of them.
Zuri didn't sit right away.
She stood in front of Aria, arms crossed, eyes cautious. "What was that in class?"
"A poem."
Zuri rested her head. "Warning or an apology?"
Aria looked up at her. "An invitation."
Zuri closed her eyes. "To what?"
Aria's tone was gentle. "To not be enemies anymore."
Silence crept between them again.
But it didn't hurt this time.
It was open.
And that made a difference.
Later, Zuri dropped her pack and sat beside her easily, as if not to lose the moment.
Aria did not move.
They did not speak afterward.
Not of what they were.
Not what came next.
But they didn't need to not yet.
Because for the first time since they'd met, they weren't staring at each other across a line.
They were sitting on the same side.
And that was sufficient.
For the moment.
Zuri leaned back against the trunk of the tree, the silence between them both strange and strangely soothing.
After a minute, she spoke up. "I thought you hated me."
"I did," Aria replied honestly. "But I found it harder to hate you than to admit that I could see myself in you."
Zuri laughed a small, humorless sound. "We don't even look similar."
"No," Aria replied. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're a part of me."
Zuri stared at her. "So what are we now? Sisters? Strangers? Something in between?"
Aria tugged the hem of her sleeve. "I don't know yet. But I'm done pretending like you don't exist."
The quiver in her voice wasn't something Zuri expected from the girl who once threw her backpack into a fountain just to make a point.
Zuri said nothing at first.
Then softly: "I used to think about what my real sister was like. I imagined she was crazy. Fearless. Loud. But not… you."
Aria smirked. "Sorry to disappoint."
Zuri shook her head. "No. You're just different. I guess we both are."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there two halves of the same storm, settling.
Then, from across the courtyard, a voice interrupted the silence.
"Zuri!"
Both girls turned.
Ms. Emmanuel, Zuri's foster mother, stood by the office building. Her arms were crossed tightly. Her face unreadable.
Zuri stiffened. "Crap."
"Are you in trouble?" Aria asked.
Zuri tossed her bag onto her shoulder. "Prob'ly. She shouldn't have bothered."
Aria stood up too. "Want me to go with you?"
Zuri looked at her, then after a moment, quietly: "No. But thanks."
She hesitated half a second before turning away, into whatever blowback lay in store.
Aria watched her walk away, an odd ache knotting in her chest.
It wasn't guilt.
It wasn't pity.
It was something more lethal.
Hope.
And she was scared.
Because hope had required allowing others in.
And Aria wasn't certain she recalled how to do that.
But perhaps Zuri could show her.