"Not all harm screams. Some of it smiles."
————————————————————
It started small.
Aira had returned to the group—tentatively. After the counseling session, something in her felt steadier, but still fragile. Like a paper boat trying to stay afloat in rain.
Hana was all smiles when Aira joined them for lunch in the campus courtyard. "Hey stranger!" she chirped, arms wide, like the past few weeks hadn't been cold and clipped.
Everyone else smiled, laughed, welcomed her in. Aira sat down between Hana and their mutual friend, Leen, telling herself: Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe I overthought everything.
That hope lasted ten minutes.
Hana turned to her, voice too sweet. "Remember that time in first year when you cried in the library bathroom because you thought your tutor hated you?"
Aira blinked. "Uh…"
Leen laughed. "Wait—seriously?"
"Oh my God, yes!" Hana giggled. "She texted me like a hundred times. I was literally in a lecture and she kept panicking over this one-word email. I was like, babe, chill, you're not getting expelled."
The group laughed. Aira forced a smile. A tight one. She looked down at her plate.
"I was just anxious," she said, voice quiet.
Hana waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. We all have anxiety. But that was next level, girl."
More laughter. More teeth. More weight pressing into Aira's chest.
She wanted to disappear into the grass.
Ray watched from a distance. He had come to return a book to the library, but paused when he saw Aira with her friends.
At first, he felt relief. She's trying, he thought.
But when he saw her face—laughing on the outside, eyes dim—he knew the look.
He'd worn it too many times before.
Text from Ray
[ RAY: ]
You okay?
[ AIRA: ]
Yeah.
Just tired.
Trying to catch up with everyone.
[ RAY: ]
You don't have to smile through pain just to be loved.
[AIRA: ]
…How did you know?
[RAY: ]
Because I used to do it too.
That night, Aira stared at the ceiling again. This time, not crying—just… hollow.
She remembered the first time she met Hana. Second semester, first year. Aira had just come out of the Mira fallout—still shaky, still unsure of herself.
Hana had swooped in like sunlight.
"You're too soft for people like her," Hana had told her, referencing Mira with narrowed eyes. "You need people who'll protect you."
Aira had believed her.
But somewhere along the way, protection had become control.
There had been signs.
Little things.
Hana changing group plans last minute, but forgetting to text Aira.
Hana borrowing Aira's notes and never saying thank you.
Hana rolling her eyes when Aira said she was anxious about presentations.
Hana calling her "too emotional" when she cried over a bad grade.
Hana joking about her therapy interest, saying, "You love fixing broken people, huh?"
It never sounded cruel out loud. But it felt like rust in her bones.
Like she was never quite enough—but also too much.
In her Journal:
"She makes me feel like I'm always apologizing.
Like I should shrink to fit the space she allows me.
I used to think it was just me.
That I was hard to love.
But maybe love isn't supposed to feel like guilt."
Later that week, the group met for a project meeting. Hana came late, swept in dramatically with iced coffee and a tired groan.
"Sorry, I had to help someone with their mental breakdown," she joked, looking straight at Aira.
Laughter again.
This time, Aira didn't laugh.
She packed her things slowly. The room grew quiet.
"Where are you going?" Hana asked, still half-laughing.
"Just… somewhere kinder."
She didn't say it with malice. Didn't raise her voice. But the words landed like thunder.
Aira walked out of the room with her heart pounding. Not from panic—but from something unfamiliar.
Power.
Ray was waiting outside.
"You okay?"
"No," she said honestly. "But I didn't lie about it this time."
Ray smiled softly.
"That's something."
They sat on the grass again—same spot as before, where they first talked. Aira let the silence breathe between them. Ray didn't rush it.
"Do you think… I'm overreacting ?" she asked.
"No."
"She says I'm sensitive."
"You are. That's not a flaw."
Aira let out a shaky breath. "I don't know who I am around them anymore. Around her. I second-guess every word. Every feeling. I'm always waiting to be laughed at."
Ray looked at her, gently. "Then maybe they're not your people."
Aira swallowed.
"I just… I keep hoping she'll go back to who she used to be."
Ray looked away. "Sometimes we fall for the version of someone who only existed in the beginning. Before the mask slipped."
That night, Aira didn't cry.
Instead, she stood in front of the mirror and said out loud:
"I didn't deserve that."
Her voice was small. But steady.
And for once, she believed herself.
Quote from Aira's journal
"Toxic friendships don't always scream.
Sometimes, they joke.
Sometimes, they hug you with one hand
while pushing you down with the other."