Healing didn't happen all at once.
It came in small, almost unnoticeable moments—like waking up without that heavy ache in my chest, or realizing I hadn't thought about Aiden all morning. At first, it felt wrong. Like I was betraying something by moving on.
But slowly, I understood.
Letting go didn't mean what I felt wasn't real.
It just meant I didn't have to carry it forever.
Calvin stayed close, but never too close. He joked when I needed distraction, listened when I needed quiet, and somehow always knew which one I needed without asking. With him, I relearned how to breathe without guarding my heart.
"You're lighter," he said one afternoon as we sat under the trees behind the school.
I raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Rude."
He laughed. "I mean… happier."
I smiled. And this time, it felt natural.
Xavier was different.
He didn't comfort me the way Calvin did. He didn't try to make things better. He just existed beside me—steady, calm, unchanging. When we studied together, there were long silences that didn't feel awkward. When we walked home, he never rushed ahead.
One evening, I finally spoke what I'd been thinking.
"I don't miss him the way I used to," I admitted.
Xavier didn't react right away. Then he said, "That means you're healing."
I nodded. "I think so."
We stopped at the corner where our paths split. The sky was soft with evening light, the air warm and still.
"I'm scared," I added quietly. "What if I fall again and it hurts the same way?"
Xavier looked at me then—really looked at me.
"Pain doesn't mean you failed," he said. "It just means you cared."
Something inside me settled.
That night, lying in bed, I realized I wasn't angry anymore. Not at Aiden. Not at Amira. Not even at myself.
I wished them well—and meant it.
My heart wasn't empty.
It was open.
And this time, I was ready to move forward—not running from the past, but walking toward something new, at my own pace.