Bella had known more than anyone else she knew about Leo and Rose. That knowledge made her feel like a silent mediator; caught between two people she barely understood yet had to protect. She helped them navigate their secret, smoothed over miscommunications, covered for them when things got too public. It hurt in ways she didn't let herself admit. She wasn't on the best terms with Leo because of Rose, but somehow, in the spaces between blame and duty, a quiet understanding began to grow.
Slowly, they became close. Not as lovers, not officially but close enough that they knew each other in ways no one else did. Their conversations stretched long, their laughter became easy, and little habits formed that made Bella feel tethered to him, even when it hurt. Yet, to the rest of the school to Palm, to Yuri, to anyone who cared to look it looked like something else. Everyone whispered about them as if they were dating, and Bella had to play along, hiding the truth while carrying her own feelings in silence.
Time passed like this, full of tension and quiet companionship. Then, as happens with people who spend enough time together, closeness turned into something deeper. They became inseparable, each moment together reinforcing a bond they barely noticed was shifting. They shared things, laughed about things only they could understand, defended each other in ways that outsiders misread.
And somehow, almost without realizing it, the line between best friends and something more blurred. Their friendship became the foundation for a love neither of them planned, neither of them announced, but both of them lived. By the time the world started to notice, it was already too late to label ....they were together, officially and quietly, in the spaces they'd built for each other, shielded by secrecy and strengthened by everything they had survived.