Doubt

Lena's eyes fluttered open groggily, the faint echo of the front door closing stirring her from her accidental nap. She shot up from her desk with a jolt. Her notebook lay sprawled open, a pen still in her hand. She was supposed to be studying.

"Lena, I'm home!" her mom's voice rang out from downstairs.

Lena blinked blearily at the time on her phone—10:02 p.m.

"Five hours…?" she whispered under her breath, guilt rising fast and sharp in her chest. She silently berated herself, knocking on her head painfully, then hurried out of her room and down the stairs.

"Hey, Mom," Lena called as she stepped down the steps, spotting her mother slipping off her coat.

Her mom turned with a tired smile. "Oh, my lovely Lena~ You look worn out. Did something happen at school?"

Lena opened her mouth, but the sight of the deep bags under her mom's eyes made her pause. Guilt swept over her, sharp and sudden.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I was just studying. You look exhausted… I made dinner."

Her mother's eyes softened, though the smile on her face wavered. "Oh, my sweet daughter," she said reaching out, though Lena heard the way her voice strained slightly at the end. Her hand hesitated midair before landing on Lena's head, ruffling her hair with a stiff, practiced motion—affection that felt more rehearsed than real. "What did you make for us today?"

"Just some pasta," Lena said, her voice steady despite the sudden jolt of memory—

a raised hand, the sting of a slap, a voice laced with fury calling her disgusting, and that same face twisted in cold, unmistakable hate.

She blinked hard, shoving it down, and followed her mother into the kitchen.

"I already ate. Want me to heat yours up?"

"You're an angel," her mom said with a light laugh, sinking into a chair. But Lena heard it—she always did. The hollowness behind the laugh, the warmth in her voice stretched thin, never quite touching her eyes. Every affectionate gesture was stiff, unfamiliar, like a role she was trying to play out of duty rather than love.

Lena turned to the microwave, the air growing heavier and more strained with every second. Her mom sat at the table, rubbing her temples. The silence that settled between them wasn't exactly tense, but it was something Lena had grown used to—awkward, padded with unspoken things, neither of them fully knowing what to say and how to say it.

Lena appreciated her mom. She knew she was trying. But even in these quiet moments of kindness, something always felt off-kilter. Her mom's voice from that night—cold, sharp, disappointed—lingered in the back of her mind like a stain that wouldn't wash out. No matter how gently her mom smiled now, those words clung to Lena like second skin.

"Disgusting…"

"Useless…pathetic"

She set the warm plate down in front of her mother.

"Oh… thank you," her mom said, trailing off as she looked at the food. Lena stood there stiffly, unsure if she should sit or leave. The silence crept back in, dragging her nerves with it. She was just about to fake a reason to head to her room when her mom spoke.

"So… how's school going? Are you getting along with everyone? Do you have friends?" Her voice was light, but something wavered beneath it—hesitation? Hope?

Lena looked over. Her mom still hadn't touched the food. She was just pushing the pasta around with her fork, eyes lowered.

Guilt twisted in Lena's stomach again.

She hated that look on her mom's face. She hated that her mom still blamed herself for how Lena turned out. But it wasn't her fault. It was Lena's—for being so weird, for crying over nothing, for saying the wrong things, for thinking too much and never explaining herself right.

"Yeah, it's fine," Lena murmured. "Everyone's really nice."

It rolled off her tongue like muscle memory. She said the same thing every time, just in different packaging. Everything's fine. I'm fine. Better than ever. Super happy.

But this time, she realized it wasn't a full lie…

Her thoughts flickered to Umire—strange, off-kilter Umire with the stiff smiles and too-intense eyes. Umire, who said they were best friends. Who said they needed each other. Who held Lena's hand like she meant it, even when everything else underneath the too-bright warmth she gave off felt wrong.

Lena didn't understand her, but… she felt something when Umire was around. Something warm. Something steady.

Maybe she was just lying to herself about how fake it all was. Maybe the warmth meant something real, even if everything else didn't.

"That's good," her mom said, finally lifting the fork to her mouth. She chewed, and her face lit up with a genuine spark of surprise. "Oh my gosh, this tastes amazing—did you try a new recipe?"

"I made a new sauce," Lena said, her voice fading into the background hum of the kitchen.

She didn't want to stay. The comfort of her room tugged at her like a soft rope pulling her back to safety.

"I have homework," she added, forcing a smile. "Enjoy your meal."

She turned and walked toward her room, her footsteps light, measured. She closed her door gently behind her, the tension in her chest unraveled, and the relief was immediate—like the world had been on pause and had finally let her breathe again. 

No more small talk. No more pretending. Just silence and the comfort of being alone. Safe behind the thin barrier of wood. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Relief washed over her—not because the conversation had gone well, but because it was over.

Her eyes drifted to the half-finished homework scattered across her desk. Even the questions she'd completed were probably wrong. She hadn't been in a regular school atmosphere in forever. Everything in her head felt foggy, distant.

Her thoughts flickered to the study session Mr. Yon had pushed her into. With Umire.

The first time Umire saw her… Lena had noticed her before, even if she didn't know her name. It would've been impossible not to. Even when Umire wasn't doing anything, she stood out. She was the kind of pretty that people noticed without trying. There were always students gathered around her desk, always someone laughing too loud in her direction.

And yet, somehow, she always looked… alone.

Though Umire was almost always surrounded by people, Lena couldn't help but think she looked… alone. It was a strange thought—one she had no real right to be having—but it stuck with her. There was something strange about the way Umire smiled. Or rather, the way the smile never reached her eyes. 

A memory surfaced: the way Umire had dropped her expression—like a mask slipping—when Lena had that panic attack. Just for a moment.

And now, a small pang of doubt twisted in Lena's chest.

Had she been wearing that same mask when she talked about them being best friends?

The thought stung more than Lena expected. Was that fake, too?

A memory stirred, rising up like murky water bubbling to the surface. 

"I guess that's what I get for being nice to a weirdo like you… Did you seriously think I was your friend?"

Cold eyes stared down at her as she lay on the ground, laughter echoing in the background.

Stares. All of them pointed at her.

Her chest tightened at the distant memory. She'd always expected—no, craved—things that weren't meant for her, things someone like her had no right to dream of. And Umire, with her dreamlike presence, felt like just another painful temptation she could never have.

She sank into her chair and tried to refocus, forcing her brain to tackle the math problems in front of her. Numbers blurred, the formulas didn't make sense, and eventually, she gave up and settled for just scribbling down random answers in the hopes the teacher wouldn't look at it too long.

By the time she got up to head to bed, her mind felt heavy and disconnected, aching from attempting to solve equations. she heard footsteps on the stairs—her mom's. They grew louder, echoing up the hallway.

They stopped outside her door.

Lena froze, breath caught in her throat. Was she finally going to bring it up again? Say something? Bring up therapy again…?

But the footsteps moved on, fading into her mom's room. A door closed softly. Only then did Lena exhale.

"It's getting late… I should sleep," she mumbled, glancing at her phone.

And then—

"Let's have the feast tomorrow at lunch, okay!"

The words echoed in her head. Umire's voice. Bright and giddy and way too enthusiastic.

Lena blinked.

Was she serious about that?

Lena hadn't baked anything. The mental image of Umire lighting up as she ate yesterday's cake came back to her—eyes wide, smile beaming. It was kind of ridiculous… but it hadn't felt fake. At least, not entirely. Lena wasn't sure whether or not she was just deluding herself at this point.

Still… was that just part of her mask too?

Lena stood still in her room, hesitating. It was already late. Baking something would take at least three hours—though she could just make quick cookies. Simple. Safe.

She sighed and tiptoed to her door, easing it open carefully so it wouldn't creak. As she passed her mom's room, she paused, listening.

Light snores. Good. She was asleep.

Lena continued down the quiet hallway, moving slowly as she tried to avoid the steps she knew creaked. She'd memorized them over the years. It was a weird skill, but it made her feel… in control, somehow.

"Okay… just something quick," she whispered as she laid out ingredients on the counter.

But thirty-minute cookies turned into three hours of experimentation.

She remade the cake from yesterday—different flavor, lighter texture—and made three types of cookies while she was at it. The kitchen smelled warm and sweet, like comfort in the air. She even threw together a lunch for her mom and herself.

By the time she finished cleaning up and glanced at the clock, it was past 1 a.m.

Five hours of sleep. Maybe less.

She looked at the cake, now neatly frosted and glowing faintly under the kitchen light. Next to it were the cookies—organized in little piles by flavor.

It was a lot.

More than she meant to make. Way more than Umire would probably bring.

"Maybe I overdid it," she muttered, rubbing her arm anxiously. What if it looked like she was too eager? What if Umire laughed about it later?

She hesitated, then carefully sliced the cake, placing it into a container for her mom. The rest went into the fridge, cookies stacked neatly beside it.

She'd decide in the morning whether or not to bring them.

Right now… she was too tired to think.

Moving like a ghost through her routine, Lena showered and changed, barely aware of what she was doing. She collapsed into bed, the soft sheets pulling her under even as her mind refused to shut off.

Unbidden, images of Umire surfaced—her delighted smile, the way she'd savored every bite of the cake. The memory played again and again, intrusive and strangely comforting.

Then, her dreams twisted.

Darkness. Eyes—cold, bottomless—staring into hers with unfamiliar warmth. A hand reached out, warm at first, then slowly freezing over as it gripped hers. A shift in Umire's face—a rare slip of her mask, fleeting and unreadable.

And despite it all… Lena yearned for that hand.

—-------------------

RIIING RIIING!!!

Lena's eyes snapped open, her heart skipping for a moment as she fumbled to check the alarm clock—5:30 a.m.

A small breath of relief escaped her lips. No late start today. No repeat of yesterday.

This time, she didn't rush. She moved with quiet purpose, braiding her hair a little neater than usual, letting the familiar routine settle her nerves.

When she came downstairs, a faint smell of toasted bread hung in the air. On the counter sat a simple sandwich and a note in her mom's handwriting:

'Thank you for the cake. You're amazing, sweetheart. Have a great day at school. :)'

Her chest tightened. The words were kind—too kind. Something about the unfamiliar warmth in them made her skin crawl. She wasn't used to this version of her mother. Not like this. Not soft. Not kind. Not… affectionate.

It felt like wearing someone else's clothes—close enough to fit, but not made for her.

She picked up the sandwich, brushing off the shiver that ran up her spine. Don't overthink it. Her mom was trying, wasn't she? She should be grateful.

It was more than she deserved, after all.

There was still time before the bus. She ate slowly, scrolling through baking recipes on her phone, half-distracted. Sugar cookie variations. Pumpkin bread. Matcha scones. Her screen blurred as another memory returned—

"Try baking stuff, and I'll try too—we can compare!"

Lena paused.

Without letting herself think, she rushed to the fridge and grabbed a handful of cookies, stuffing them into a small container. Her eyes flicked to the cake. Her mom had taken extra slices.

Would bringing cake be too much? Would it look desperate?

The clock read five minutes past when she was supposed to leave.

She hesitated for half a second—then grabbed two slices of cake and jammed them into a separate container.

She was already running by the time the doubt caught up to her.

She reached the bus stop just as the doors hissed open. Breathless, heart pounding, she climbed on and collapsed into her usual seat at the back, pressing her headphones in and cranking the volume up until her thoughts blurred.

The doubt was still there.

Was she doing too much? Was this stupid?

But through the noise, one image refused to leave her.

Umire's bright smile. Her delight. Her excitement about lunch today.

Lena stared out the window as the city passed by in a blur, warmth and dread curling in her chest like two halves of the same thing.

She didn't know what today would bring.

But for the first time in a long time… she felt excited.