It was Saturday afternoon when Julian rang the doorbell.
He needed Grace's history notes.
That was the excuse.
The real reason?
He hadn't liked how quiet she'd been all week.
Grace's mom opened the door with a warm smile.
"Oh, Julian! Come in."
"Hi, aunty," he said politely.
"She's in her room," her mom added. "Second door on the right."
Julian nodded.
The house felt calm. Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He walked down the hallway slowly, notes in hand.
And that's when he heard it.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just small, uneven breaths.
A muffled sound.
Like someone trying not to cry.
He stopped outside her door.
Silence.
Then a quiet sniff.
Julian's stomach tightened.
He knocked softly.
"Grace?"
No answer.
He knocked again. "It's me."
There was a pause.
Then hurried movement inside.
A drawer shutting.
Fabric brushing.
"Yeah?" Her voice was strained.
Julian pushed the door open gently.
Grace was sitting on the edge of her bed.
Her eyes were red.
Her cheeks slightly flushed.
She had clearly tried to wipe everything away.
But crying leaves traces.
Julian closed the door behind him.
"Your mom said you had the history notes."
Grace nodded quickly and reached for her desk. "Yeah. I'll get them."
She kept her back turned.
Julian didn't move.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Too fast.
Too practiced.
He stepped closer.
"You were crying."
She froze.
Just for a second.
Then she shrugged lightly. "I wasn't."
Julian didn't argue.
He just sat down on the chair near her desk.
The room was quiet except for the faint sound of traffic outside.
After a long moment, he spoke again.
"Is it Zara?"
Grace's hand stilled.
That was enough of an answer.
Julian sighed softly.
"She's not replacing you."
Grace let out a small, shaky laugh.
"I'm not scared of being replaced."
She finally turned to face him.
Her eyes were glossy again.
"I just feel… unnecessary."
The word hung there.
Julian's chest tightened.
"Unnecessary?"
"She's better at talking. Better at fitting in. She knows what to say." Grace swallowed. "And I don't."
"That's not true."
"It feels true."
Her voice cracked slightly this time.
"I'll start saying something and then she finishes it better. Or changes the topic. And no one even notices."
Julian was quiet.
Because he had noticed.
"She told Lucy something about me, didn't she?" Grace asked softly.
Julian hesitated.
"She just… said things."
Grace nodded like she already knew.
"I'm tired, Julian."
That sentence was barely above a whisper.
"I'm tired of trying to hold on to people who don't even realize I'm slipping."
Silence.
Then she looked at him directly.
"Did Theo say anything?"
Julian didn't lie.
"He thinks you've been distant."
Grace laughed again, but there was no humor in it.
"I stopped trying first for once."
That hit him.
Hard.
Julian leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair.
"He doesn't see it," he admitted.
"He doesn't look," Grace replied.
That hurt more.
A tear slipped down before she could stop it.
She wiped it away quickly, embarrassed.
"I don't even hate Zara," she whispered. "I just don't know where I'm supposed to stand anymore."
Julian looked around her room.
The same posters.
The same desk.
The same Grace.
But something inside her had shifted.
"You're not unnecessary," he said firmly.
Grace didn't respond.
Because when you feel invisible, reassurance sounds far away.
Julian stood up slowly.
"Give me the notes," he said gently.
She handed them over.
At the door, he paused.
"Don't shrink yourself," he said quietly. "Just because someone else is louder."
Grace didn't answer.
But after he left, she sat back on her bed.
And for the first time that week—
She didn't cry because of Zara.
She cried because she missed how simple everything used to be.