The ones who smile the brightest are always the ones who hide the most pain.

In a way, she makes it her mission to bring light to those around her, even though in her own little world it’s just continuing to get darker and darker. It seems the only thing she can do is put up a wall of laughter and joy; because underneath the surface, her joy is fading away.

She sneaks tears in the dead of night, when she thinks no one else is around. She lets her sobs break through the crisp midnight air, locked behind a door and sealed in by her bedroom window. Only the walls of her room are supposed to be witness to it.

She thinks the only person who can see the numb look behind her tired eyes is herself. She thinks that no one notices how she sighs when she’s alone; or how when she eats she only takes a few bites and then pushes it away. She claims she’s already eaten; but he always notices how she drains her water bottle beforehand.

Her eighteenth birthday was supposed to be fun. There was a big party. Everyone was laughing, there was cake and ice cream, one of her great aunts gifted her an old Polaroid camera. Then her friends stayed the night and they all played board games until three-thirty in the morning.

And in those moments she was happy. When she made a joke that caused a few snorts. Or when her grandma set a timer and held her for five minutes, and the two just stood in each other’s company. In those moments the empty feeling in her chest left. In those moments she felt like she could actually breathe. It was as if she had forgotten about the two people who had been missing.

Her two most important people.

Then when she thought everyone had fallen asleep, the emptiness returned tenfold. There was nothing to distract her from her mind tormenting herself. The guilt had hit her like a school bus.

She was happy. She was happy while they were six feet under the ground, alone in the cemetery. She was happy while they wouldn’t get the chance to laugh again or play board games and, or eat cake and have birthday parties. She was happy and they were dead. And she shouldn’t have been.

But he saw her get up and tiptoe out of the room, undoubtedly leaving to retreat to the safety of her own room where she wasn’t afraid to let down every wall and splintering scaffolding. He saw the tears start to pool in her eyes as she turned the corner, though she thought he was still fast asleep on the floor. And he heard her hushed sobs as she ascended the stairs, while he was a couple paces behind and still unknown to her.

When her bedroom door shut, he realized how badly he had failed.

How could he have missed this? How could he have ignored the signs? How could he have been so blind to her feelings?

The slight tinge of pain behind her eyes when she laughed. Her smiles hadn’t been as genuine like they had been before. She didn’t hold the same level of passion she’d let explode anytime someone would listen.

And he had just shrugged it off.

He stood a few paces in front of her door, dark clouds raining on his spirit and causing him to physically shrink in on himself. An elephant sat on his chest, and his breathing shorted.

This was *awful*.

Is this how she felt?

He could hear her through the door.

*”This is stupid.”*

He didn’t want to. If felt like intruding. No—it *was* intruding, and he felt like a creep. But he couldn’t help but lean in. All he wanted to do was help.

*”Get it together, Keira. You’re fine. Every… everything’s fine.”*

*”You have friends, you had a birthday party. You have a roof over your head. Dad has a good paying job… seven hours away. You have Wes.”*

Her voice got quieter the more she fell into herself.

*”Just be happy. Be happy and it’ll all be okay. Just—just be happy. Be happy. Be happy.”*

She repeated it over and over again. A mantra, which at one time had been convincing, but now was nothing more than a manic trap of repetition. Then her sobs were muffled by her hands.

And Wes’s heart broke.

He couldn’t not leave it be. He couldn’t just leave her like this anymore. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

His fist hit the door with a few quiet knocks.

Then he heard scrambling and quick sniffles.

*”One—one second!”*

Then he stood and waited. Which at the time felt like hours because all he wanted to do was see her face. But in reality, it had only been a few minutes.

It hadn’t hit him how bad it truly was until she opened the door: she looked exactly like she did two years ago. Her mascara was smeared under her puffy and bloodshot eyes. Her skin was flushed and she had the same distressed expression, despite trying to wipe it away as quickly as she could. She was the same girl that wept over her mother’s and younger brother’s coffins. The only thing missing was the black dress she had sent to donate only two days after the funeral.

When he saw her, he couldn’t stop the first thing he thought of from coming out of him mouth.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Then the words hit her ears and she crumbled.

Tears, snot, and the mascara dripping down her cheeks. All the pent up anger and frustration soaked into his shirt. There was no stopping the tsunami of emotions she had finally unleashed.

But Wes wasn’t asking her to. He understood. He wanted to listen.

And that was all Keira needed.