Indhu's POV
Tuesday morning arrived, and the memories of my birthday still clung to me—like the faint smell of chocolate on my fingertips.
I walked into class feeling more tired than usual, but my heart felt light. Content.
The moment I stepped in, Charlotte waved at me.
"You seriously looked like a twin of that movie star in the black dress," she whispered.
Swetha grinned. "And the pasta! Your mom should really open a restaurant."
I laughed softly, brushing my hair behind my ear. "Stop. I'm still full from yesterday."
A few minutes later, Rohan and Aditya walked in together, laughing over some silly science meme.
Aditya lifted his hand casually. "Happy belated birthday again, Indhu. Thanks for the chocolate."
I nodded, smiling—softly, genuinely.
The day moved like any other.
Teachers explained lessons, chalk scraped across blackboards, and notebooks filled with hurried writing.
But my mind wasn't completely there.
It kept drifting back to yesterday—
the warm lights at home,
the laughter,
the way I felt… seen.
And then—one face crossed my thoughts.
Leonore.
She hadn't wished me.
Not a message.
Not a word.
Just a silent viewer on my status—right till the very end.
Surprisingly, it didn't hurt this time.
I noticed something else too.
None of us—Charlotte, Swetha, Rohan, Aditya, or me—looked her way at all.
She was somewhere near Maggie, talking animatedly. I didn't need to hear the words to know the topic.
During lunch, Swetha laughed quietly.
"You know what's funny? Leonore saw all our statuses."
Charlotte raised her eyebrow. "She's probably swimming in rage."
I smiled faintly. "Yeah. I saw. Let her watch."
That afternoon, we headed out for games period.
We ended up playing terracotta—me, Swetha, Charlotte, two of my friends from the next class… and Leonore.
I laughed after missing an easy catch.
That's when Leonore leaned toward one of Swetha's old friends and said quietly—but not quietly enough:
"If Indhu and Swetha stop talking to Aditya and Rohan, then maybe I'll talk to them again."
I didn't hear it directly.
But words like that always find their way.
Swetha stormed toward me.
"Do you know what she said?"
She repeated Leonore's words, her voice tight with anger.
The game continued behind us—laughter, shouting, running.
But for me, everything went still.
"Why should we stop talking to anyone?" Swetha said sharply.
"This isn't middle school."
I looked up at the cloudy sky.
Somewhere inside me, something settled.
"If she doesn't want us to talk to them," I said quietly,
"then I don't want a friendship like that."
That was it.
Swetha didn't argue.
Charlotte didn't hesitate.
The three of us turned and walked away.
No drama.
No shouting.
No last glance.
Behind us, Leonore kept talking—
but her words had nowhere to land.
The final bell rang.
The day ended.
And as I walked out of school, I realized something important:
Peace doesn't come from fixing every broken thing.
Sometimes, it comes from walking away—
together.