The student café was buzzing with quiet anticipation. String lights hung loosely from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over mismatched chairs and tables. A small makeshift stage stood at the front, decorated with handwritten posters: OPEN MIC NIGHT – Share Your Voice.
Michelle sat at a table near the back, nervously twisting the bracelet around her wrist. Steve was beside her, his knee lightly bumping hers, anchoring her in place.
"You don't have to do it," he said softly, sensing her nerves.
"I want to," she whispered, voice tight. "I just… I've never read my writing out loud before. Not even to Lila."
Steve turned to her, his voice gentle but sure. "Then let tonight be the first. I've read your poems, Michelle. They're real. They matter."
She met his eyes, and in them, she found exactly what she needed: courage.
When her name was called, her legs trembled slightly as she stood. She walked slowly to the stage, the microphone looking too tall and too cold.
But when she looked up and saw Steve's warm eyes locked on hers from the back of the room — she breathed.
She unfolded a piece of paper from her pocket. Her hands were shaking, but her voice — when it came — was clear.
"To the girl who never shouted,But always listened.
To the one who blended into the background,Until silence screamed too loud.
To the girl who wondered,If softness made her weak—But found her strength in staying kind.
You matter.
Even when they don't see you.
Even when they talk over you.
You're not invisible.You are light,In a world that forgot how to see."
There was a beat of silence when she finished.
Then applause. Loud, growing, heartfelt.
But Michelle didn't look at the crowd. She looked only at Steve.
He was already standing, his hands clapping, a tear sliding down his cheek without shame. He mouthed, "That was beautiful."
She smiled — a real, deep, unafraid smile.
When she returned to her seat, he took her hand in both of his.
"That was more than a poem," he said. "That was a mirror. You showed them who you are."
"I showed myself too," she whispered.
The rest of the night passed in a haze of music and poetry, but for Michelle, it was a turning point.
She had stepped onto a stage with trembling hands — and walked off standing tall.