Chapter 10: A Friend’s Concern

Chapter 10: A Friend's Concern

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A Sanctuary in the Library

Lunchtime arrives, and I head straight to the library—not out of habit, but out of necessity.

The cafeteria isn't an option. Too many stares. Too many whispers.

Here, in the quiet, surrounded by the scent of old books and worn pages, I can breathe.

I settle into my usual corner, an old wooden table by the farthest bookshelf, and open a book.

The words on the page blur slightly. My mind is too restless to focus, but I force myself to read anyway.

Then—a shadow falls across the page.

I glance up.

Serena.

Her presence is familiar, expected even, but there's something different about her expression today.

A soft concern, barely masked beneath her usual calm confidence.

She doesn't hesitate. She pulls out a chair and sits across from me, placing her tray down with casual ease.

For a moment, we just exist in silence.

Then, finally, she speaks.

A Friend Who Sees Too Much

"I saw what happened yesterday."

There's no pretense, no dancing around the truth. Just direct acknowledgment.

I pause, my fingers tightening around my book's spine.

She saw.

I swallow. "It's not a big deal."

Her emerald eyes narrow slightly. "Derrick."

One word.

But it carries so much weight.

I sigh, setting my book down. "What do you want me to say?"

Serena studies me for a second before shaking her head.

"They shouldn't treat you like that."

Her voice is firm, certain—not laced with pity, but something stronger.

I look away, my jaw clenching. "Doesn't matter."

"It does," she counters. "And you know it."

Her words sting—not because they're meant to hurt, but because they're true.

Because she's right.

And I hate that.

The Unspoken Comfort

Serena doesn't push further.

Instead, she leans back, crossing her arms.

"You know… you don't have to deal with this alone."

I glance at her. "I'm not alone."

She raises an eyebrow. "A book doesn't count, Derrick."

That actually makes me huff out a short laugh.

It's small, fleeting, but real.

Serena smirks slightly, but the concern in her gaze doesn't fade.

She's my friend.

And for the first time since this all started, I realize—

I'm not completely alone in this.