This year, Monica had changed a lot. Maybe it was because of her classmates, her friends, or just the reality that this was their last year together before they were sorted into different classes next semester. Either way, she found herself trying to be more outgoing, more present. But despite that, she still carried the weight of her mother's insults, buried deep where no one could see.
One afternoon, their group had a deep talk about their struggles. Trauma, family, things they never really said out loud. Monica sat there, nodding along, but when it was her turn to speak, she felt the sting behind her eyes. She quickly looked away, blinking rapidly.
Chelz, the guy who had moved in early this year, noticed. So did Nana. But Monica brushed it off, forcing a smile. "I'm not gonna cry. I was just yawning."
That evening, as she and Chelz walked toward their pickup spot in the slight drizzle, she finally broke. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away, but they kept coming.
Chelz glanced at her, concerned. "What's wrong?"
And for the first time, she admitted it—how her mother's words cut her down, how it never seemed to stop.
The next day, Chelz told their circle what had happened. Monica wasn't mad. She knew she was safe with them.