As the days passed, the pressure grew heavier.
It wasn’t loud or obvious. It lived in small moments. In long stares. In quiet judgment. In the way people stopped talking when Kade walked by.
I felt it too.
Friends began to drift away from me. Some stopped sitting near me. Others acted polite but distant, like they were afraid my choices might affect them.
One afternoon, my closest friend finally spoke.
“You’ve changed,” she said carefully.
“Because I care about someone?” I asked.
“Because you’re risking everything,” she replied.
Her words stayed with me long after she walked away.
Kade felt the pressure in different ways.
Teachers gave him extra tasks. Rules were enforced only when he was involved. Even when he did everything right, it never felt enough.
I watched him grow tired
