Juliet waited until the end of the day.
She didn't know why—maybe because she wanted the halls to be emptier, the noise lower, the moment smaller. Or maybe because part of her still hoped the feeling would fade on its own if she gave it enough time.
It didn't.
Rosaline lingered by her locker, re-zipping her bag twice like she was stalling. Juliet recognized the habit. She did it herself when she was nervous.
"Do you want to walk home together?" Juliet asked.
Rosaline hesitated for half a second. "Yeah. I was hoping you'd ask."
They stepped outside into the late afternoon air. The sky was dull, overcast, like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Juliet focused on the sound of their shoes against the pavement, steady and familiar.
They didn't speak at first.
"I don't want this to be weird," Rosaline said finally.
Juliet stopped walking. "Then let's not make it weird. Let's just… talk."
Rosaline turned to face her. "Okay."
Juliet took a breath. She'd practiced this before—alone, in her room, staring at the ceiling. It sounded different out loud.
"I feel like I'm being edged out," she said. "Not all at once. Not obviously. But enough that I feel it."
Rosaline didn't interrupt. That helped.
"I don't think Amira is mean," Juliet continued. "I don't think she's doing anything that would look wrong to anyone else. But when I'm around her, I feel like I'm… extra. Like I'm the third person in a conversation that used to belong to two."
Rosaline's shoulders slumped slightly. "I didn't want to admit it because I thought it was just me noticing things that weren't there."
"So you do notice it."
"Yes," Rosaline said quietly. "I just didn't know what to do with it."
Juliet nodded. That was fair. This wasn't simple. Nothing about it was.
"She talks to me differently when you're not around," Rosaline added. "Not in a bad way. Just… more focused. Like she's trying to create something separate."
Juliet swallowed. "That's exactly how it feels."
They started walking again, slower this time.
"I don't want to make you choose," Juliet said quickly. "I really don't. I don't think that's right."
Rosaline stopped again. "But that's what it feels like, isn't it?"
Juliet didn't answer right away.
"Yes," she said finally. "It does."
Rosaline looked down at the sidewalk. "I hate that. I hate feeling like I'm betraying someone no matter what I do."
"You're not betraying me by noticing," Juliet said. "And you're not wrong for wanting more friends. I just don't want to lose us quietly."
That was the thing Juliet had learned the hard way—things didn't always end with arguments. Sometimes they ended because no one spoke in time.
Rosaline nodded slowly. "I don't want that either."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but it was different now. Heavier, yes—but also clearer.
That night, Juliet sat at her desk instead of her bed. Her Bible lay open, untouched, beside her notebook. She wasn't looking for a verse. She just needed it there, grounding her.
She thought about Sarah again. About how she'd believed she could change someone just by standing close enough. About how strength wasn't always loud, and influence wasn't always obvious.
This felt similar. But also different.
Amira wasn't reckless. She wasn't chaotic. She was careful.
And that made her harder to confront.
Juliet opened her notebook and wrote one sentence at the top of the page:
Pay attention to how you feel around people.
She underlined it twice.
The next day at school, Juliet made a choice.
She didn't pull away. She didn't overcompensate. She didn't chase.
She stayed.
She sat where she always sat. She spoke when she had something to say. She laughed when it was genuine. And when Amira redirected conversations, Juliet noticed—but didn't shrink.
Rosaline noticed too.
Amira smiled as usual. Asked questions. Included them both—on the surface.
But Juliet could see it now. The subtle steering. The way Amira filled the silence before Juliet could. The way she positioned herself physically between them without ever touching.
At lunch, Amira suggested they all hang out after school.
Juliet watched Rosaline carefully.
Rosaline glanced at Juliet first.
That small moment—barely noticeable—meant everything.
"I can't today," Rosaline said. "Juliet and I already have plans."
Juliet hadn't known that. But she didn't correct it.
Amira blinked, just once. "Oh. Okay. Maybe another time."
Her smile didn't falter, but something shifted behind it.
Later, as Juliet and Rosaline walked to their next class, Rosaline let out a breath she'd clearly been holding.
"I've never done that before," she admitted.
Juliet smiled softly. "Me neither."
It wasn't a victory. Not really. It didn't solve anything. But it was a line—quiet, firm, finally drawn.
Juliet knew this wouldn't be the end of it.
Amira wasn't done testing boundaries. And Juliet wasn't done learning how to hold hers without apologizing for them.
But for the first time in a long while, Juliet didn't feel like she was disappearing.
She felt present.
And that was enough to keep going.
Chapter 10: The Conversation
Juliet waited until the end of the day.
She didn't know why—maybe because she wanted the halls to be emptier, the noise lower, the moment smaller. Or maybe because part of her still hoped the feeling would fade on its own if she gave it enough time.
It didn't.
Rosaline lingered by her locker, re-zipping her bag twice like she was stalling. Juliet recognized the habit. She did it herself when she was nervous.
"Do you want to walk home together?" Juliet asked.
Rosaline hesitated for half a second. "Yeah. I was hoping you'd ask."
They stepped outside into the late afternoon air. The sky was dull, overcast, like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Juliet focused on the sound of their shoes against the pavement, steady and familiar.
They didn't speak at first.
"I don't want this to be weird," Rosaline said finally.
Juliet stopped walking. "Then let's not make it weird. Let's just… talk."
Rosaline turned to face her. "Okay."
Juliet took a breath. She'd practiced this before—alone, in her room, staring at the ceiling. It sounded different out loud.
"I feel like I'm being edged out," she said. "Not all at once. Not obviously. But enough that I feel it."
Rosaline didn't interrupt. That helped.
"I don't think Amira is mean," Juliet continued. "I don't think she's doing anything that would look wrong to anyone else. But when I'm around her, I feel like I'm… extra. Like I'm the third person in a conversation that used to belong to two."
Rosaline's shoulders slumped slightly. "I didn't want to admit it because I thought it was just me noticing things that weren't there."
"So you do notice it."
"Yes," Rosaline said quietly. "I just didn't know what to do with it."
Juliet nodded. That was fair. This wasn't simple. Nothing about it was.
"She talks to me differently when you're not around," Rosaline added. "Not in a bad way. Just… more focused. Like she's trying to create something separate."
Juliet swallowed. "That's exactly how it feels."
They started walking again, slower this time.
"I don't want to make you choose," Juliet said quickly. "I really don't. I don't think that's right."
Rosaline stopped again. "But that's what it feels like, isn't it?"
Juliet didn't answer right away.
"Yes," she said finally. "It does."
Rosaline looked down at the sidewalk. "I hate that. I hate feeling like I'm betraying someone no matter what I do."
"You're not betraying me by noticing," Juliet said. "And you're not wrong for wanting more friends. I just don't want to lose us quietly."
That was the thing Juliet had learned the hard way—things didn't always end with arguments. Sometimes they ended because no one spoke in time.
Rosaline nodded slowly. "I don't want that either."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, but it was different now. Heavier, yes—but also clearer.
That night, Juliet sat at her desk instead of her bed. Her Bible lay open, untouched, beside her notebook. She wasn't looking for a verse. She just needed it there, grounding her.
She thought about Sarah again. About how she'd believed she could change someone just by standing close enough. About how strength wasn't always loud, and influence wasn't always obvious.
This felt similar. But also different.
Amira wasn't reckless. She wasn't chaotic. She was careful.
And that made her harder to confront.
Juliet opened her notebook and wrote one sentence at the top of the page:
Pay attention to how you feel around people.
She underlined it twice.
The next day at school, Juliet made a choice.
She didn't pull away. She didn't overcompensate. She didn't chase.
She stayed.
She sat where she always sat. She spoke when she had something to say. She laughed when it was genuine. And when Amira redirected conversations, Juliet noticed—but didn't shrink.
Rosaline noticed too.
Amira smiled as usual. Asked questions. Included them both—on the surface.
But Juliet could see it now. The subtle steering. The way Amira filled the silence before Juliet could. The way she positioned herself physically between them without ever touching.
At lunch, Amira suggested they all hang out after school.
Juliet watched Rosaline carefully.
Rosaline glanced at Juliet first.
That small moment—barely noticeable—meant everything.
"I can't today," Rosaline said. "Juliet and I already have plans."
Juliet hadn't known that. But she didn't correct it.
Amira blinked, just once. "Oh. Okay. Maybe another time."
Her smile didn't falter, but something shifted behind it.
Later, as Juliet and Rosaline walked to their next class, Rosaline let out a breath she'd clearly been holding.
"I've never done that before," she admitted.
Juliet smiled softly. "Me neither."
It wasn't a victory. Not really. It didn't solve anything. But it was a line—quiet, firm, finally drawn.
Juliet knew this wouldn't be the end of it.
Amira wasn't done testing boundaries. And Juliet wasn't done learning how to hold hers without apologizing for them.
But for the first time in a long while, Juliet didn't feel like she was disappearing.
She felt present.
And that was enough to keep going.