FIXING WOUNDS

THE CONFESSION

A few days before the final exams, Zero finally said it.

They were standing outside the classroom after school, the hallway almost empty, the bell already gone quiet.

“I like you, Ivy.”

Ivy stopped breathing for a second.

She looked at him, shocked. Not because she didn’t see it coming — she did. It was the way he said it. No jokes. No teasing. Just honest.

Ivy didn’t know what to say. She’d never been in this position before. She’d never let herself think about it, because love had always felt like something that happened to other people, not to her.

“I… I need to think about it,” she said quietly.

Zero nodded right away. “Don’t feel pressured. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I really hope this doesn’t change our friendship.”

That was Zero. Even when he was being vulnerable, he was protecting her first.

Ivy gave him a small smile and walked away. But her mind didn’t stop racing.

---

During the final exams, things shifted again.

Zara started befriending Ivy more. Not in a forced way, not with grand gestures. Just small things — sharing notes, sitting beside her during breaks, asking if she needed water.

Freda stayed on her name. Distant. Polite. Like they’d reached an unspoken agreement: _We’re not enemies anymore, but we’re not friends either._

And Ivy was okay with that.

She was focused on something else now. The exams. The future. The thought that in a few weeks, she’d finally be free of this place.

---

Then they graduated.

The graduation party was loud and messy and full of people Ivy barely recognized anymore. Caps in the air. Laughter. Photos. For the first time, Ivy didn’t feel like she was on the outside looking in.

Zara and Ivy ended up talking for most of the night.

Not as best friends. Not as classmates. Something in between. Friends who had history, but also had a chance to start fresh.

And somehow, all three of them ended up at the same university.

Zara. Ivy. Zero.

Even Zero — the name he’d carried since high school, the nickname that stuck because he was quiet, steady, always there — he took it with him to university.

When they got their freshman assignments, Zara had rented an apartment close to Ivy’s. Close enough that they became neighbors. That made them way closer than they’d been in years.

It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t instant trust or forced closeness. It was slower. Easier. Zara didn’t push, and Ivy didn’t pull away.

---

Ivy and Zero’s friendship stayed the same too.

They studied together. They walked to lectures together. Sometimes Zero would bring her coffee before an 8am class, just like he did under the mango tree.

He never brought up what he said before finals again. Not once.

But Ivy noticed the way he looked at her sometimes. The way he made space for her in his schedule without making it obvious. The way he waited for her to answer on her own time.

And Ivy? She was still thinking about it.

She hadn’t said yes. She hadn’t said no.

Because for the first time, Ivy wasn’t just trying to survive. She was trying to figure out what she actually wanted.

---

One evening, a few weeks into freshman year, the three of them ended up on Zara’s balcony.

Zara had music playing low. Zero had snacks. Ivy had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders even though it wasn’t cold.

They talked about everything and nothing. High school. Professors. The future.

At one point, Zara looked at Ivy and said, “I’m glad we’re here. Together.”

Ivy didn’t answer right away. She just looked at Zara, then at Zero.

“Me too,” she said.

It was small. It was simple. But for Ivy, it was huge.

Because saying _“me too”_ meant she was letting people stay. Even if just for now.