The next morning was like any other.
Venessa walked to school with her head low, her bag pressing heavily against her back like a second burden. Her eyes stung from crying the night before, but she kept her face blank. Emotion was a luxury she couldn't afford in public.
The hallway was already buzzing with students by the time she arrived. Laughter. Footsteps. Whispers. The world moved quickly, but she moved like a shadow between it all, hoping not to be noticed.
But, of course, she was.
"Still wearing those glasses from the dinosaur age?"
"She probably sleeps in them, too."
"She probably sleeps alone."
They laughed as she walked past, their voices like chalk screeching on a board. Venessa didn't stop. She never did.
But as she neared her classroom, someone bumped into her—not harshly, just a shoulder brushing hers.
"Sorry," a soft voice said.
Venessa blinked.
It was a girl she'd never really spoken to—Reina, if she remembered correctly. Long braids. Quiet in class. Always reading, but in a different way than Venessa. Reina liked fantasy. She had once been scolded for drawing dragons in her math book.
Venessa muttered, "It's okay," and moved toward her seat.
But at lunch, something unexpected happened.
She sat alone at her usual corner, nibbling at cold rice and wilted vegetables. Then a tray slid across the table. Reina sat down without asking, unpacking her food.
"I hate group tables," Reina said simply. "Too noisy."
Venessa stared, unsure if this was a joke.
Reina glanced up. "I won't talk if you don't want to. I just needed somewhere quiet."
Venessa didn't speak at first. But she didn't move away either.
They ate side by side in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was… strange. In a good way.
After a few minutes, Reina took out a small folded page. A hand-drawn creature—a winged cat with antlers.
"Want it?" Reina asked, offering it to her.
Venessa hesitated before slowly reaching out. "Why?"
Reina shrugged. "You look like you need something not terrible."
It was the smallest thing. A sketch. A seat. A shared silence.
But to Venessa, it felt like someone had opened a tiny window in a suffocating room.
That afternoon, when she returned home and faced the usual cold voices and sharp words, she didn't cry immediately. Instead, she sat by the drawer again. The strange letter still lay there—like a whisper frozen in time.
She pulled out a blank page, just in case.
And for the first time…
She considered writing back.
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End of chapter 2