Vanessa's POV
I didn't cry when Alexis—the one I shared a home with, not the boy at school—betrayed me.
I didn't cry when I realized he was the one leaking my secrets, the one who watched me get punished and said nothing. No, I didn't cry.
But something in me cracked.
It was the kind of crack you can't see, not at first. Like when glass breaks but still holds together. You don't notice it's broken until something presses too hard—and suddenly, it shatters.
That morning, I walked to school with a wall around me. A wall no one could see through. Not even the Alexis who had started to mean something to me. The school one. The only person who made me feel like I wasn't alone in the world.
He noticed.
"You're quiet," he said as we walked through the school gate.
"I'm always quiet," I replied.
"Not like this."
I shrugged and pushed open the classroom door.
The day dragged. Each subject felt longer than the last. I couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe properly. Every time I looked down at my notebook, all I saw was that moment: my brother staring at me with anger, telling me I wasn't special, that my pain didn't matter.
I'd spent so long trying to protect him. And all along, he'd been the one cutting into me.
When the lunch bell rang, I went to the library. I sat between two shelves, knees pulled to my chest, notebook open, pen in hand—but I didn't write.
Alexis found me anyway.
"You skipped lunch."
"I wasn't hungry."
He sat down beside me, careful not to crowd my space. "You want to talk about it?"
"No."
He nodded like he expected that answer. "Okay."
We sat in silence. The library's dusty quiet wrapped around us like a blanket. It was the first time silence didn't feel like punishment.
Eventually, I whispered, "It was my brother. He read my diary. He spread the fake story. He's been the one trying to ruin me."
Alexis didn't say anything for a long time. Then he said, "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"No. But I know what betrayal feels like."
I looked at him.
"My dad... He didn't just hurt my mom. He hurt me too. And I kept quiet for years. I let everyone believe we were a perfect family. I even smiled in photos."
I wanted to reach out. Say something. But the words got stuck in my throat.
"He used to say it was my fault," he continued. "That if I were a better son, she wouldn't cry so much."
I closed my eyes. The same words. Different walls. Different houses. Same damage.
"I'm tired," I whispered.
"Of what?"
"Of trying to survive a life I didn't choose. Of carrying pain like it's homework."
Alexis nodded, his jaw tight. "Then don't carry it alone anymore."
That night, I opened my diary and wrote something honest.
Dear Diary,
I think I trust Alexis. The one at school. He listens. He sees me.
And maybe, for the first time, I feel seen.
The next morning, something unexpected happened.
When I walked into class, Kiera was standing at my desk.
"Hey," she said, flipping her hair like she always did when she was about to start something.
I braced myself. "What?"
She glanced around, then leaned in. "You and Alexis... are you, like, a thing now?"
I blinked. "No."
She tilted her head. "Because it looks like it. Just saying."
"Why do you care?"
She shrugged. "I don't. But Rose said she saw you two in the library yesterday. Real cozy."
I didn't respond. I picked up my notebook and turned away.
But her voice followed me. "You should be careful, Vanessa. People like him? They carry shadows. And shadows always spread."
I froze. Not because of the words—but because of the tone. Like she knew something I didn't.
That afternoon, I asked Alexis to meet me under the fig tree again.
"She said you carry shadows," I told him.
He was quiet for a long time. Then he asked, "Do you believe her?"
"No. But I want to know what she meant."
He looked down at his hands. "There's more to the story. About my mom."
"I'm listening."
He hesitated. "She didn't die in her sleep. That's what they told the school. What they told everyone."
I swallowed. "Then... how?"
"She took pills. A lot of them. After an argument with my dad. I found her."
My heart broke.
"I didn't tell anyone. I couldn't. I thought... if they knew, they'd blame me too."
"You were a child," I said softly.
"I was the only one home."
I didn't know what to say. So I just sat beside him, close enough that our shoulders touched.
After a while, he whispered, "I carry that moment with me every day. Maybe that's what Kiera sees. Maybe that's the shadow."
"I see someone brave enough to still show up," I said. "Someone who didn't run."
He looked at me then. Really looked.
And something in that gaze—something quiet, something raw—wrapped around my heart.
Later that week, we decided to confront Alex, my other brother, together.
"Why involve Alexis?" I asked.
"Because he'll take you seriously if someone's watching," school-Alexis replied. "And I want him to know you're not alone anymore."
We waited until Alex was outside, headphones on, shooting hoops alone in the driveway.
I walked up to him. "We need to talk."
He looked up. Groaned. "Now what?"
"You helped spread lies about me. I know. And I'm not letting it happen again."
He smirked. "So what, you brought your boyfriend to fight your battles?"
Alexis stepped forward. "She doesn't need me to fight her battles. But I won't let her face cowards alone."
Alex laughed. "Cowards? Wow. Dramatic much?"
"I'm serious," I said. "If you ever touch my things again—if you ever mess with my life again—I'll report you. To the school. To Mom. To whoever I have to."
Alex froze. I think it was the first time he realized I meant it.
"You've always been weak," he muttered.
"No," I said. "I've always been surviving. There's a difference."
I walked away before he could answer. Alexis followed.
Behind me, I heard the ball hit the pavement and bounce away.
That night, I wrote again.
Dear Diary,
I'm not healed. But I'm standing. That counts for something, right?
Alexis isn't perfect. Neither am I. But in a world where everyone tries to hurt or hide, we're learning how to hold each other up.
For now... that's enough.