Juliet didn't realize how much noise Sarah had brought into her life until it was gone.
The days felt quieter now—not empty, not lonely, just… steady. Juliet moved through school with a new awareness, like she was seeing things for the first time. Not just people, but patterns. Who showed up. Who didn't. Who complained. Who tried.
She watched.
In class, she noticed how students reacted when the teacher handed back assignments. Groans from some. Shrugs from others. A few quiet nods of satisfaction. Juliet found herself caring more—not about grades exactly, but about effort. About trying. She had spent so long wondering if she was behind everyone else that she hadn't noticed how many people weren't moving forward at all.
At lunch, she sat with Rosaline and listened more than she talked. Rosaline had a way of speaking that didn't rush itself. She chose her words carefully, like she knew they mattered. Juliet admired that. It felt safe. Nothing flashy. Nothing forced.
"You seem different," Rosaline said one afternoon, sipping her juice.
Juliet tilted her head. "Different how?"
"Calmer," Rosaline said. "Like you're not… chasing anything."
Juliet thought about that. "I think I was," she admitted. "With Sarah. I wanted to feel like I fit into something. Anything."
Rosaline nodded. "That makes sense."
"I don't think fitting in is supposed to feel that hard," Juliet added.
"No," Rosaline said softly. "It's not."
The silence with Sarah still existed, but it no longer demanded Juliet's attention. They passed each other in hallways like strangers who shared a history neither wanted to reopen. Juliet didn't feel angry. She didn't feel superior. She just felt… done.
And that surprised her.
At home, Juliet found herself journaling more. Not because anyone told her to, but because her thoughts finally had space to land somewhere. She wrote about Hawaii. About homeschooling. About how she used to think real life would start once she entered a public school. Now she knew better.
Real life had always been happening. She just hadn't trusted herself enough to see it.
The semester began winding down. Teachers mentioned schedule changes. Students buzzed about who they hoped to have classes with next term. Juliet felt something unfamiliar: anticipation without fear.
She wasn't looking for excitement. She was looking for peace.
One afternoon, as she packed her bag, she overheard Sarah laughing loudly with a different group of students. Juliet paused—not because she wanted to listen, but because she noticed how quickly the sound faded once Sarah realized no one was really paying attention.
Juliet didn't turn around.
That night, she prayed quietly before bed. Not for Sarah to change. Not for answers. Just for clarity. For wisdom. For the ability to keep choosing what was right even when it wasn't loud.
She slept easily.
The last day of the semester arrived without ceremony. No grand moment. No dramatic goodbye. Just lockers closing and schedules being handed out.
Juliet scanned her new timetable.
Two classes with Rosaline.
She smiled.
Whatever came next, she wouldn't face it alone.
And this time, she knew how to look.