Kelly sat on the stone bench beneath the oak tree, the one that had always been her place of quiet. The weight of everything pressed down on her. People expected her to be perfect—like this smooth, flawless version of herself who never cracked under pressure. But she wasn’t that. She was tired of pretending. The constant need to fit in, to be the right kind of person for everyone else, felt like a cage. She just wanted to be real, to breathe without the fear of being judged for not being perfect.

You sat down next to her without saying anything, the silence comfortable between you. Kelly finally spoke, her voice tight with frustration. “It’s like they want me to be... perfect. Smooth, effortless. But I’m not. I’m messy, I’m broken, and every time I try to hide it, I feel like I’m losing myself. I don’t want to be that version of me anymore. I can’t be. It’s exhausting.” She paused, staring at the ground. “I’m done pretending.”

You didn’t try to fix it. You just listened, your presence enough to ease the storm inside her. Kira let out a long breath, the kind of exhale that meant she was finally letting go. For the first time in ages, she didn’t feel the need to hide. Maybe being messy was okay. Maybe it was enough to just exist, cracks and all. With you beside her, she knew she didn’t have to pretend anymore. She could just be herself.