Back in middle school, Vanessa found herself constantly by Darian's side. They had grown up together—thrown into each other's lives long before either of them had a say in it. They were like siblings, inseparable, killing time at an old, rundown arcade where the lights flickered, and the machines ate more coins than they deserved.
At the time, Vanessa thought that the world would never change.
She was wrong.
A new student arrived one week—Hanna Bloza. Her parents had just moved into the city, and she stood out immediately. Hanna was pretty, but not loud about it. Timid. Soft-spoken. She smiled too politely and apologized too much.
The boys noticed her right away.
The girls did too.
Whispers followed Hanna down the halls. Some called her fake. Others claimed she was pretending to be shy just to get attention. None of it was true—but truth never mattered when insecurity spoke louder.
By the end of her first week, the bullying had already started.
Not openly. Never where teachers could see. It happened in restrooms, behind locked doors, in group chats, and in anonymous posts online. Subtle humiliations. Cruel jokes. Water was dumped on her uniform. Laughter echoed as she cried in silence.
Eventually, Hanna began skipping certain classes—ones where the girls who tormented her sat nearby.
Vanessa noticed.
One afternoon, she walked into the restroom and froze.
Hanna stood near the sinks, drenched, trembling, her hands shaking as water dripped from her hair onto the floor. The girls surrounding her laughed quietly, cruelly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Vanessa snapped, storming in.
One of the girls scoffed.
"Shit... It's Darian's pet."
The word hit harder than it should have.
Pet.
Vanessa's vision blurred with anger. Without thinking, she grabbed a broom leaning against the wall.
She swung it—not to hit, but close enough.
Close enough to make them flinch.
The girls shrieked and bolted for the exit, hissing curses as they fled the restroom.
"Idiots," Vanessa muttered, dropping the broom.
The room went quiet.
Then Hanna collapsed.
She sank to the floor and broke down completely—weeks of fear, humiliation, and isolation pouring out all at once. Her sobs were raw and uncontrolled, like someone who had been holding everything in for far too long.
Vanessa stood there, frozen.
She had scared the bullies away—but now what?
She wasn't good with emotions. She didn't know what words to say. Comfort didn't come naturally to her.
So instead, awkwardly, she knelt beside Hanna and placed a hand on her back.
She rubbed it gently.
It wasn't much.
But it was the first time someone had stayed.
And for Hanna Bloza, that small, clumsy gesture meant everything.
The next day, Hanna met Vanessa after school. She wasn't alone—Darian stood beside her, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
Vanessa tilted her head toward Hanna.
"You mind if he tags along? Don't worry—you won't be buying him any ice cream. He's got his own money, right?"
She shot Darian a pointed glare.
"Yeah, yeah," he scoffed. "Why are you even hanging out with the new kid?"
Vanessa fired back instantly.
"Why are you tagging along?"
Darian clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Never mind. Let's go."
And just like that, they were walking.
But instead of heading straight for an ice cream shop, Vanessa started pointing things out—small cafés, quiet corners, places she thought Hanna might like. She talked like a guide, not a savior. Like this was normal. Like Hanna belonged.
Darian chimed in occasionally, showing her the old arcades nearby, challenging her to try a game, pretending not to care while clearly sticking close.
Other students passed by. Some waved. Some stopped to talk.
No one whispered.
No one laughed behind her back.
They played games. They shared snacks. They wandered into cafés and out again. The sun dipped lower, the afternoon stretching comfortably into evening.
And not once did they buy ice cream.
Which, somehow, made Hanna smile.
Because Vanessa never wanted repayment.
She never wanted the ice cream.
What she wanted was to pull Hanna out of the loneliness she'd been pushed into—to show her that she could laugh again, that she could make friends, that happiness wasn't something she had to earn.
That day, Hanna Bloza didn't feel like the new girl.
She felt... normal.
And for the first time since transferring schools, that felt like everything.