The crisp afternoon breeze rustled through the playground, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the laughter of other students. But for me, the world felt quieter, heavier.
“It’s okay, Zoey. You had to see it for yourself,” said Hazel, squeezing my hand gently.
“People come into our lives for a reason—sometimes to teach us a lesson, sometimes to share in our joy, and sometimes just to be there for a season,” Maryam added, her voice calm and steady.
“I know, I know ... but it just hurts,” I admitted, my voice breaking as tears spilled down my cheeks.
Hazel and Maryam led me to a bench under the old maple tree, its branches swaying as if they, too, were offering comfort. Thankfully, Maryam pulled out a small pack of tissues from her fanny pack and handed me a water bottle from her lunchbox.
“Zoey, you’re going to be okay. You have us,” Hazel assured me, squeezing my shoulder.
“We’ll do our best to be good friends, in good times and bad,” Hazel continued.
“It’s their loss, not yours,” Maryam said firmly. “Now drink some water, and let’s stay positive.”
They both wrapped me in warm hugs, the kind that makes you feel like you’re home no matter where you are. Just then, Chase and James walked over, concern written all over their faces.
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