Unspoken Goals

Apologies

December 28th

Abigail wasn't sure if Juliette would show up.

After last night's argument, silence had seemed like the obvious outcome. She had dropped Juliette off without a word. No goodbye, no look back. Just silence hanging in the air like fog, heavy and suffocating.

So when Juliette walked up the driveway at exactly 7:30 a.m., bundled in a fleece and loose jeans, her expression unreadable and her hair slicked back in a low bun, Abigail's breath caught.

Juliette didn't even glance her way. She breezed past, steps calm and sure, as if Abigail was nothing more than a shadow at the edge of the porch.

"Good morning, Jess!" Juliette's voice rang out, light and cheerful, directed straight to Abigail's mom, who beamed at the sight of her.

And that's how the entire day went.

The two-hour drive to Abigail's grandparents' house felt longer with Juliette beside her. Abigail was sandwiched between her and Drew, but Juliette angled away, arms crossed, gaze locked on the window. The space between their bodies was small, but the distance felt endless—except for the occasional brush of Juliette's knee against hers, a quiet reminder of everything they weren't saying.

Drew noticed, of course. "Yikes. You piss her off or something?" he muttered, earning himself a sharp "Shut up" from Abigail.

While they were there Juliette gave her attention to everyone but Abigail. She cracked jokes with Abigail's dad. Laughed at Drew's stupid impressions. Hugged Abigail's grandparents tightly and asked how they were doing. But with Abigail, there was only dry sarcasm and cool glances. If she did speak to her, it was in a dry tone.

By the time they returned home around 9 p.m., Abigail felt wrung out. Like she had spent the entire day walking a tightrope, blindfolded, with no net in sight.

"Thanks for letting me come along," Juliette said politely as she stepped out of the car, voice bright again—but this time, brittle. "It was definitely better than sitting home alone."

Abigail's mom pulled her into a tight hug. "You're family, Julie. You know that. You're welcome anytime."

She always said that. And she meant it. Juliette had practically grown up in this house. Abigail's mom still worried when Juliette was left alone during her parents' business trips and had made it a rule: if they weren't home, Juliette was always welcome here—no questions asked.

When Juliette finally stepped back onto the driveway, Abigail turned to follow.

"I'll walk her home," she told her parents.

Juliette spun around at that, her brows lifting. "I've made this walk a thousand times," she said coolly. "I'll be fine. Plus, you'll end up walking back alone, so that defeats the purpose of a buddy system." She offered a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just watch from here if you're that worried."

Abigail shook her head, stepping forward and gently grabbing her arm. "I'll be back soon," she told her parents before tugging Juliette down the driveway with her.

They walked in silence. The night was quiet, the cold air wrapping around them, but the silence between them was louder than any storm. When they reached Juliette's driveway, she yanked her arm free.

"I told you I didn't need you to walk me," she snapped.

"I heard you," Abigail replied, voice tight. "I just didn't care."

Juliette's eyes narrowed. "You seriously have the nerve to be annoyed right now?"

"Oh, I have plenty of nerve," Abigail shot back.