I woke up the next morning with a weight in my chest and a fire beneath my skin.
The kind of restlessness that made it hard to sit still, hard to breathe.
Like I was waiting for something I couldn’t name.
I got dressed slower than usual, running my fingers over the faded denim of my jeans, tugging at the sleeves of my sweater like maybe I could shrink back into them.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the way the mirror caught something different in me.
It wasn’t just the weight loss or the straighter posture or the makeup I barely bothered with.
It was in my eyes.
A flicker of something that hadn’t been there before.
Strength.
Or maybe recognition.
Like a part of me was waking up.
School felt louder than usual. Every voice in the hallway buzzed in my ears.
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