Betty’s POV
The quad stretched out before me, eerily quiet for late afternoon. The golden light of the setting sun cast long, jagged shadows over the cobblestone pathways, turning the familiar space into something almost foreign. I sat on a weathered bench, my sketchpad open in my lap, but the blank page stared back at me accusingly. Every pencil stroke felt wrong, the lines stiff and lifeless. I sighed, rubbing at the smudges on the side of my hand.
Lucy’s voice echoed in my head: You’re the glue holding us together.
The words felt heavier than ever now, pressing down on me like a weight I wasn’t sure I could carry. What if I wasn’t? What if the cracks in the team couldn’t be held together with good intentions and hard work? Leading The Unseen had always been challenging, but lately, it felt like I was teetering on the edge of failure, one misstep away from shattering everything we’d built.
My phone buzzed against my thigh, the sound jolting me from my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw Stacey’s name. Her message was simple but charged: Dinner tonight? I have news.
I stared at the words for a moment before typing back: Sure.
As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, a knot of unease twisted tighter in my chest. Stacey had been distant lately, her focus locked on whatever chaos was unfolding with her dad and Monica. I hadn’t pried—it wasn’t my place—but the growing space between us felt heavier than I wanted to admit. Stacey had always been a puzzle, and lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing pieces.
I looked back at my sketchpad, the blank page still mocking me. Inspiration felt impossibly far away, like trying to grasp smoke. Closing the pad with a soft thud, I leaned back on the bench and let my eyes drift to the sky. The sun was slipping lower, staining the horizon with streaks of orange and pink. It should have been calming, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
What was Stacey’s news? Why did it feel like it would change everything? I hated not knowing, not being able to prepare. The message felt like a turning point, a crossroads where something vital would shift. But whether it would bring us closer or drive us further apart—I couldn’t tell.
I pressed my palms against my knees, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Whatever came next, I’d face it. I had to. Even if I wasn’t the glue holding us together, I couldn’t let myself be the one to pull us apart.