You’re used to the whispers. The stares. The laughter that follows you down the halls like a shadow.

You hear everything—but you never respond.

Today is no different. Someone bumps your shoulder harder than necessary. Another mouths something cruel, knowing you won’t say anything back. You keep walking, pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Then—

A presence. Someone steps in front of you, blocking the sneers behind them. A boy. You don’t know him, but he looks at you like he sees something no one else does.

His lips move, slow and deliberate.

"Are you okay?"

No one has ever asked you that before.