The morning sun filtered through sheer curtains, painting Yue Xi's room in pale gold. Her alarm had gone off minutes ago, but she hadn't moved. She lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening to the hush before the world rushed in.
Today was presentation day.
Her breath felt caught between her ribsneither deep enough to calm nor shallow enough to ignore. She sat up slowly, the silence of her room pressing close, her notebook open on the desk across the room, exactly where she'd left it.
She had practiced the night before. Again and again. But no amount of repetition erased the fear of standing up, of being seen.
She rubbed her hands together nervous habit. They were cold. Always cold before a speech.
As she dressed for school, Yue Xi chose a plain blouse and cardigan, something soft, safe, unnoticeable. Her armor had never been boldness; it had always been invisibility.
But today… she'd promised herself.
The school halls were louder than usual. Students rushed past in small clusters, laughter echoing, shoes squeaking on linoleum. In their classroom, desks had been rearranged presentation day mode. A projector was ready. Mr. Han stood by the front, flipping through his clipboard.
Her group had already gathered.
Wang Meilin was fixing her hair, brushing it behind her shoulder like the moment was a red carpet appearance. Zhou Kai sat back, phone in hand, half-listening to Meilin's rambling about tone and "how not to sound robotic." Yichen offered Yue Xi a small wave when she approached.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"I will be," Yue Xi replied, her fingers brushing the edge of her cue cards.
Meilin eyed the cards. "You sure you're going with those? Kinda long for an intro. Keep it short so you don't ramble."
Yue Xi didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Mr. Han called the first group up. Laughter, polite applause, occasional whispers filled the air as each group presented. The minutes felt like hours.
Then: "Group Five, you're up."
Yue Xi's pulse skipped.
Meilin moved first, all confidence and poise. Zhou Kai followed with an exaggerated sigh. Yichen stood beside Yue Xi as they walked up, whispering, "You've got this."
She nodded.
The classroom lights dimmed. The projector blinked to life.
Yue Xi stepped forward.
The first slide glowed behind her, casting her shadow on the board.
Silence.
All eyes turned to her.
Her throat felt dry. Her cue cards trembled slightly in her grip. She could feel Meilin's gaze drilling into her side, sharp and expectant.
Speak.
For a heartbeat, she couldn't.
Then she remembered: Not for them. For me.
She inhaled.
And began.
Her voice was soft but steady, the words forming clearly. She didn't rush. She didn't falter. Her hands shook just slightly, but she pressed on, looking up from her cards at carefully chosen moments. She delivered the opening with quiet resolve, then transitioned smoothly into the main points.
She saw a few classmates blink in surprise.
When she passed the floor to Meilin, the girl seemed taken aback for a second just a flicker before slipping back into her perfect posture.
Yichen gave his portion with his usual calm ease. Zhou Kai mumbled through his lines but stayed on script. The presentation wrapped up with decent cohesion, thanks to Yue Xi's structure.
When they finished, there was a beat of silence before the class offered polite applause.
Mr. Han smiled. "Good work. Strong structure. And Yue Xi, nice recovery from your last performance. Confident, clear well done."
The words clung to her like light.
She walked back to her seat, breath catching in her throat. She wasn't shaking anymore.
After class, as students filed out, Meilin caught her sleeve. "You actually pulled it off," she said, half-grudging, half-curious. "Didn't expect that."
Yue Xi didn't reply. She simply nodded and kept walking.
"Hey," Yichen said, catching up beside her. "Told you. You were solid."
"Thanks," Yue Xi murmured.
"You should talk more," he added with a grin. "You sound smarter than the rest of us."
She gave a small laugh surprised even at herself.
During lunch, she found her usual tree empty, its shade cooler than usual. Her bento box sat on her lap, untouched. Her gaze wandered, trailing students in the courtyard, until she spotted someone standing by the fountain steps.
Chen Yu.
He was alone, hands in his pockets, face turned to the sky as if trying to read something in the clouds.
Yue Xi hesitated, then stood.
She crossed the courtyard slowly, her steps light but deliberate.
When she stopped in front of him, he looked down. "You lived," he said simply.
"I spoke," she replied.
He studied her, unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a slow, approving nod. "Was it for them?"
"No," she said. "For me."
"That's the only kind that counts."
They didn't say anything more. But the silence between them wasn't empty.
It was earned.
That night, Yue Xi sat again at her desk, the city lights blinking softly outside her window. Her notebook was full of notes, drafts, scribbles of things she hadn't said yet.
But there was space now space for more.
For once, her silence didn't feel like hiding.
It felt like breathing.
That night, the apartment was silent.
No clinking dishes. No footsteps echoing from another room. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the walls settling. Yue Xi sat cross-legged on the small couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shield. The remains of her dinner rice and reheated soup sat forgotten on the coffee table.
The presentation was over. It should have felt like a victory.
But quiet always made space for memory.
She stared at the wall, her thoughts drifting. To another school. Another classroom. The sound of laughter that wasn't kind. The feeling of being so small she might disappear. The slam of a door that never opened again.
She gripped the edge of the blanket tighter.
It was easier, most days, to pretend none of it mattered. To move through the routine like clockwork wake up, go to school, study, come home, eat alone, sleep. But then a moment like today happened, and it cracked something open. Just a little.
Today, she had stood. She had spoken.
Not because she was brave.
But because she was tired of being afraid.
Her eyes drifted to the small corkboard above her desk. It was mostly empty, except for a few sticky notes and a single photo: her and a girl with bright eyes, arms slung over each other's shoulders. The only friend she'd had at her old school before it all fell apart. Before she stopped answering messages. Before she left without a goodbye.
Yue Xi leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
She didn't know what came next. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn't dreading tomorrow.
Maybe because she wasn't entirely alone anymore.
Not with Yichen's quiet kindness. Not with Chen Yu's steady presence.
Not with her own voice, rediscovered.