Jessa

The diner felt different today.

Less like a spotlight, more like a bubble — the kind of safe, familiar place that didn’t care about gossip or rumors.

The four of us had taken over one of the corner booths at Benny’s, same spot we always used to squeeze into when we were younger. Jackson and Noah on one side, Mariah and me on the other. The sound of plates clattering, the smell of syrup and bacon, and the low hum of conversation filled the air. For once, it felt easy.

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