They say healing isn't linear.
And they're right.
Some days, I woke up lighter. Like the weight I carried had loosened overnight, and I could finally take a full breath.
Other days?
It came back with claws.
Digging, tearing, whispering lies I wasn't strong enough to ignore.
Today was one of those days.
It started with a phone call.
Not from Aariz.
Not from Maya.
From school administration.
"We need to see you in the main office, Lina. It's urgent."
I froze with my spoon halfway to my mouth.
Mrs. Langley looked up from her newspaper. "Everything alright?"
I nodded slowly.
But in my chest, my heart was slamming.
Because I knew something was wrong.
I just didn't know what.
When I arrived at the office, Ms. Hale, the counselor, stood waiting by the door.
And beside her…
Was my mother.
My legs nearly buckled.
She stood there, looking small in her work blazer, holding her purse tightly like it was the only thing anchoring her.
Her eyes met mine.
And they were red.
Swollen.
"Lina," she whispered. "He's back."
My world stopped.
I didn't speak.
I couldn't.
Ms. Hale gently motioned us into her office and shut the door behind us.
I sat slowly, feeling the walls close in.
My mother sat across from me.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
"He came back last night," she said. "I don't know how he got in. He used his old key. I changed the locks after you left, but I guess I missed one."
I stared at her, heart racing. "What did he want?"
She swallowed. "To talk. To threaten. He blamed everything on me. On you. He said he'd take you away from CPS. That I should be ashamed for letting you speak."
My hands clenched.
"That man," I said through gritted teeth, "lost every right to speak about me the night he touched me."
My mother nodded, eyes glossy.
"I told him to leave. I called the police. He left before they arrived, but they're looking for him."
"And now I'm in danger again," I whispered. "You brought this here."
"No," Ms. Hale said firmly. "You're safe, Lina. We're handling this."
But it didn't feel like it.
It felt like he was everywhere.
In the room. In my skin. In my breath.
Back in class, I couldn't focus.
The words on the board blurred.
All I could hear were footsteps.
Not real ones—phantom echoes of him walking down the hall like a ghost only I could hear.
My palms were sweaty.
My pulse was a drumbeat.
And then…
I ran.
Out of the classroom.
Down the stairs.
Into the girls' bathroom.
Locked the stall.
Sat on the cold floor.
Breathed.
Or tried to.
My chest felt like it was collapsing.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Then—
"Lina?"
It was Maya.
"I'm coming in."
A moment later, her feet appeared under the stall door.
She sat on the floor beside me, outside the stall, legs crossed.
"You don't have to say anything," she said. "But I'm not leaving."
Tears slid silently down my cheeks.
"You don't get it," I whispered. "He's like a shadow. I think I'm okay, and then bam—I'm right back in the dark."
She didn't try to fix it.
Didn't tell me to breathe.
She just slid her hand under the door.
And I grabbed it like a lifeline.
Later that day, after school, I waited for Aariz at the back gate.
He came jogging over, out of breath.
"You good?" he asked, concerned. "You didn't text me all day."
"He's back," I said flatly.
Aariz stopped moving.
"Who?"
"My father."
His jaw tensed. His whole body stilled.
"Where is he?"
"Don't know. He showed up last night. Threatened my mom. Then disappeared before the cops came."
Aariz ran a hand through his hair.
"Come with me," he said.
"Where?"
"My place. Just for a while. You need quiet."
We didn't talk much on the way there.
But his silence wasn't heavy.
It wasn't like his silence.
Aariz's silence was protective.
Like he was building walls around me with every step we took.
His room smelled like cologne and clean laundry.
Walls covered in movie posters. Books stacked unevenly on the shelves. A pair of headphones hanging off the lamp.
Homey. Imperfect.
Safe.
He handed me a hoodie—his—and I slipped it on without thinking.
Then we just sat on his bed.
Side by side.
Listening to the sound of the world outside the window.
At some point, he took my hand.
Not dramatically.
Just—quietly. Casually.
Like he'd been waiting for the right moment.
And somehow, that broke me more than all the pain ever could.
"I hate that he still has power," I whispered.
"He doesn't," Aariz said. "You're here. You're still standing."
"But I'm tired."
"You can rest."
We lay back on the bed, still fully clothed, nothing more than two people finding air in a world that had tried to drown us.
And when I closed my eyes, for once…
I didn't dream about him.
I dreamed of freedom.
When I got back to Mrs. Langley's later that evening, she was waiting.
"The police called," she said. "They want you to give a formal statement. Maybe press charges."
My heart thudded.
Then—
I nodded.
"I'm ready."
That night, I opened my journal again.
"Today, fear knocked on my door again."
"But I didn't open it."
"I ran, yes. But I also came back."
"And that counts too."