Chapter 15 : Trust In The Aftermath.
985 Words
“Healing isn’t forgetting. It’s learning to live without the weight of fear.” — Wendy
The school felt… different. Lighter, safer. Calvin’s downfall had shifted the air, but Wendy knew that freedom didn’t erase the scars.
Wayne walked beside her as they made their way to the library. He didn’t need to speak; his presence alone reminded her she wasn’t alone in navigating this new chapter.
“You okay?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.
“I think so,” Wendy said, adjusting her bag strap. “It’s just… weird, feeling like myself again after months of pretending I was fine.”
Wayne nodded, eyes thoughtful. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. Not with me.”
She smiled faintly. “And what if I’m scared? What if I… don’t know how to trust anyone yet?”
He stopped walking, turning toward her. “Then I’ll wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
His words sank into her chest like warm sunlight after a storm. For the first time in months, she felt a sense of calm that wasn’t forced.
In the library, they found a quiet corner. Wendy pulled out her books, but her mind kept drifting. She glanced at Wayne, who was already focused on his notes, scribbling carefully.
“You know,” she began, hesitant, “I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe again. After everything with Calvin… I thought fear would always follow me.”
Wayne looked up, expression soft. “It’s normal to feel that way. What he did… it wasn’t just cruel. It was meant to break you. But look at you — you didn’t let him. You faced it, documented it, and reclaimed your power.”
Wendy chuckled, a little dryly. “Power… I still feel like a mess inside.”
“You’re allowed to,” Wayne said gently. “Healing isn’t perfect. It’s messy. But it’s real.”
She stared at him, trying to process the calm strength he exuded. “And you… you make it feel safe. Like someone has my back without needing me to explain everything.”
Wayne’s lips curved slightly. “That’s because I do. And I always will.”
The bell rang, signaling the next period, but neither of them moved immediately. Wendy felt something shift — a tiny spark of trust, fragile but growing.
After class, Wayne suggested they take a walk around the school compound. The air smelled of wet grass; clouds hung low, as if the sky itself had been watching their story unfold.
“Do you ever regret telling the truth?” Wendy asked suddenly, voice low.
Wayne glanced at her. “Not for a second. Truth is the only thing that can set you free. And you… you set yourself free before anyone else could do it for you.”
She nodded slowly. “I just… it’s hard to stop expecting the worst. Even when things feel safe, my mind keeps rehearsing scenarios, threats I know aren’t there.”
He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s the past talking. Not the present. The present is here — and it’s real, and it’s safe.”
For a moment, Wendy let herself breathe. Really breathe. She leaned slightly into him, a silent acknowledgment that she could start trusting again, even if only a little.
They found a bench by the school garden. Flowers bloomed despite the overcast sky — a reminder that life continued, even after storms. Wendy pulled out her phone, considering sharing part of the story she hadn’t told anyone yet — the fear, the nights spent alone, the anxiety that lingered even now.
“I want to tell you something,” she said softly.
Wayne looked at her, attentive. “Anything.”
“I’m scared sometimes,” she admitted. “Even now. I feel safe with you, but… the memories, the threats, they don’t just vanish.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “And you don’t have to face them alone. I’m here. Not to fix things, not to erase the past, but to make sure you know you’re not walking through it alone.”
Tears prickled Wendy’s eyes. Not of sadness, but relief — the relief of finally being understood without judgment. She nodded, squeezing his hand back.
They stayed there for a while, quiet, letting the world move around them while they held onto this fragile peace. Wayne didn’t try to rush her feelings. He didn’t push for answers. He simply existed beside her — grounding, protective, patient.
By the time the sun started to peek from behind clouds, Wendy felt a small but significant shift inside. Fear hadn’t disappeared, but it no longer ruled her. And Wayne? He had become more than a friend or protector. He was a steady presence, someone she could trust with her past, her scars, and maybe, in time, her heart.
“You know,” she said finally, smiling faintly, “I never thought I’d get here — trusting someone again.”
Wayne smiled back, eyes warm. “Trust isn’t given. It’s earned. And you’re earning it too — every day, just by letting yourself feel again.”
Wendy laughed softly, a real, unguarded sound. “Maybe… maybe I’m ready to take a chance.”
Wayne leaned closer, careful, respectful. “Whenever you are. No rush. No pressure. Just… us figuring it out, one step at a time.”
The bell rang again, pulling them back into the rhythm of school life, but for the first time, Wendy didn’t feel the same weight. She felt capable, supported, and maybe, just maybe, ready to trust not only Wayne, but herself.
Because sometimes, surviving the storm means letting someone walk beside you — not in front or behind, but right there, steady, as you learn to breathe again.
And Wendy? She was ready to take that first real breath.
- Writer
