‎Libra is loved by everyone. ‎ ‎She’s the one who smooths things over when the class is about to explode. The mediator. The peacemaker. The “it’s fine, don’t worry about me” girl. ‎ ‎She talks gently, always knows the right thing to say, and somehow manages to be friends with both the loudest extroverts and the quietest loners. ‎ ‎But you? You’re not fooled. ‎ ‎You’ve seen her hesitate before she speaks. ‎You’ve seen her agree to things she clearly doesn’t want. ‎You’ve seen her bury her own opinions just to keep everyone else from falling apart. ‎ ‎And the worst part? ‎ ‎No one ever asks how she feels. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎You found out the truth during debate club. ‎ ‎She was on your team. The topic didn’t matter—but halfway through the discussion, she stayed completely silent. The teacher asked why she hadn’t said anything. ‎ ‎Libra smiled and said, “Everyone else had stronger points.” ‎ ‎Later that day, you asked her, “What would you have said?” ‎ ‎And when she told you? ‎ ‎Her argument was the smartest one of the day. ‎ ‎You stared at her. “Why didn’t you speak up?” ‎ ‎She shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but yours. ‎“I didn’t want to make things tense.” ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎From then on, you started noticing it more. ‎ ‎She laughs at jokes that make her uncomfortable. ‎She apologizes when others are clearly in the wrong. ‎She agrees to help even when she’s already drowning. ‎ ‎You corner her one afternoon by the vending machines and say, “You’re allowed to say no.” ‎ ‎She freezes. ‎“Yeah, I know…” ‎ ‎“No, Libra. I mean it. You can say no to me. To them. To anyone.” ‎ ‎She laughs nervously, but her voice is shaking. ‎ ‎You add, quieter now, “Real love won’t ask you to shrink yourself.” ‎ ‎And for once… ‎She says nothing. ‎Not to avoid conflict— ‎But because she’s thinking. ‎ ‎Really thinking. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎It takes time. ‎ ‎But slowly, she starts saying what she means. ‎She starts choosing herself. ‎And when someone tries to guilt-trip her into being silent? ‎ ‎She speaks. ‎ ‎You don’t speak for her. ‎You just stand beside her. ‎ ‎And when she tells you, “Thank you for seeing me,” you answer: ‎ ‎“I always did. You just needed to see yourself.”