THE SUICIDE

Chapter Eight : A Gentle Light

Days passed, but the memory of that cafeteria moment stayed with Juliet like a warm ember in a cold room. She’d never had someone stand up for her before—not at home, not at school. But Solene had. Without hesitation. Without asking for anything in return.

And he kept showing up.

At lunch, he’d find her table. During class, he’d pass her notes with silly doodles or quiet jokes. When others stared or whispered, he’d glare back until they turned away. His presence was calm, patient—unlike the chaos Juliet had grown used to.

They started walking home together. He learned that she liked to draw but never showed her art. She learned that he read poetry and loved thunderstorms. They spoke in fragments at first, like two people afraid to break something fragile between them. But slowly, Juliet began to open up.

Around Solene, she smiled more—small, cautious smiles at first, but real. She spoke more confidently in class, and even started to raise her hand. She no longer shrank from the hallway stares. With him beside her, she didn’t feel so exposed.

One afternoon, under the jacaranda tree behind the library, Juliet sat sketching while Solene read aloud from a worn copy of Letters to a Young Poet. His voice was soft, thoughtful.

“I want to be with those who know secret things,” he read, “or else alone.”

Juliet looked up at him. “Is that how you feel?”

Solene smiled. “Sometimes. But I think some people are worth letting in.”

He glanced at her, his eyes gentle. “I meant that about you, Juliet. I’m not going anywhere.”

She didn’t speak. Instead, she looked down, suddenly blinking back something that felt too heavy to name.

Trust.

It wasn’t something she gave easily. But in that moment, she realized that Solene was no longer just a boy who stood up for her—he was becoming her lifeline. Her light in a world that had never felt safe.

And she held onto him tightly, like a secret she hoped no one would ever take away.