"You think saying you want me is enough?"
Ava’s words hung in the air like a final strike, sharp and slicing through the silence. She hadn’t looked back. Not once.
Not as she turned and walked away, leaving Jace standing in the shadows, stunned, motionless.
Her absence was deafening. The space she left behind was filled with the echo of his words—harsh, unforgiving, unforgettable. But Ava wasn’t looking for redemption, not from him, not from anyone.
She had already given all she had. What he wanted wasn’t love. It was a quick fix, a way to clear his conscience after tearing her apart. And that wasn’t her job. Not anymore.
The night he had spoken those words, she hadn’t responded. And she had no intention of ever responding. Because the truth was, there was no answer.
Not when her heart had been left in pieces, scattered across the floor by someone who had promised to hold it safely.
The wounds were still too fresh, the sting of his betrayal too close. His cruelty, the venom in his voice, would always linger in the corners of her memory, a ghost that couldn’t be exorcised.
Did he want her now?
Too bad. She didn’t want him. Not like this. Not when he couldn’t even see the damage he had done.
So she stopped waiting.
She stopped hiding. She stopped pretending that her existence didn’t matter, stopped shrinking behind oversized hoodies and low, self-conscious gazes. She wasn’t trying to be someone else.
No, she was rediscovering herself, reclaiming parts of her she had buried in the quietest corners. She began to walk like she had a purpose, like she wasn’t sorry for the space she took up.
Her skin, her body, her voice—they were hers. They weren’t mistakes.
Her skirts grew shorter. Her eyeliner, darker. Her laugh? It rang louder now. Clearer. And she didn’t care who heard it.
But the changes weren’t for anyone but her. She didn’t dress for the approval of anyone. Not for the boys who only noticed when it was convenient for them. Not for the girls who whispered behind her back.
She dressed for herself. She did everything for herself.
When Monday morning rolled around, she walked into school with a confidence that came from within—black jeans, a cropped sweater, and a determination that swung in her step like a banner. People noticed.
She could feel their eyes following her, but she didn’t flinch. Not this time. She lifted her chin, held herself tall. Let them stare. Let them wonder. She wasn’t hiding anymore.
But the voices? The old ones, the ones that had always whispered—the ones that still lingered in the back of her mind? They tried to slip through. They always did.
‘Don’t get too comfortable. You’re only pretending. No one actually sees you.’
The familiar whispers of fat girl, weird girl, invisible girl—those were her ghosts, the ones that used to haunt her every day.
But Ava? Ava had learned how to drown them out.
Each step she took, every moment she stood her ground, those voices were drowned beneath the thumping of her heart, the beat of her own strength. She smirked back at judgmental eyes, held her ground in spaces that had once felt too small.
Every move she made, every word she spoke was a declaration: She wasn’t apologizing for herself anymore.
Yet even in the midst of all this newfound strength, there was still a question that crept into the back of her mind like an unwelcome guest.
Would he have seen me if I never changed?
Would Jace have ever looked at the girl who stayed hidden in the back of the classroom, biting her nails, trembling every time she had to speak?
Would he have noticed the girl who wore baggy sweaters to hide her body, who never used lipstick, who never dared to believe she was enough?
Or did it take the sharp lines of eyeliner, the jeans that hugged her curves, the bite in her comebacks, for him to see her?
That question haunted her. Even now. More than his voice. More than the memory of how he had shattered her.
But then, it didn’t need to haunt her anymore. It was answered. Loudly. Publicly.
Fourth period. The hallway was packed with bodies, the usual noise and chaos filling the air. Ava was standing at her locker, trying to pry open the stubborn door, holding an iced coffee in one hand.
Her locker had been jamming like this for months, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t focused on that anymore. She was focused on the sound of footsteps approaching, the sharp voice that cut through the crowd like a knife.
"New look," Jace said, his tone loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Still hiding the same girl underneath, though.”
Ava’s spine snapped straight at the sound of his voice. Her fingers froze on the locker handle, and the buzz of conversation around her faltered. Heads turned. Eyes followed him. But Ava didn’t freeze. Not this time.
She let go of the locker, spun on her heel, and stepped forward—into the space between them—like she belonged there.
Her voice was low, calm, steady. But the words she spoke were sharp as glass. "At least I’m not hiding behind cruelty."
The hallway went quiet. For just a moment, there was nothing but the weight of her words hanging in the air. And for the first time, she felt seen. She wasn’t hiding anymore. And neither was he.