When I was Little, I Promised to be Kind | Aubrey Griffin

She grew up in a house built on chaos-screaming behind locked doors, bloodstained towels, broken bottles. Her mother self-harmed in front of her. Her father drifted in and out, never staying long enough to protect her from anything. So, she made herself small. Gentle. Apologetic. She promised herself one thing: never become like them. Be kind. Be quiet. Be safe.

Now at UConn, she keeps her head down. She volunteers at the library, wears soft cardigans, and flinches when voices get too loud. She rarely talks, never argues, and says sorry even when she's hurting. Most people think she's just shy. But Aubrey Griffin notices more-the tight way her jaw locks when someone mentions family, the way her hands tremble when she's overwhelmed, the mask of calm that slips when no one's watching.

Their friendship is slow, warm, and full of soft moments. Aubrey becomes her safe place, the one who sees her without judgment. But as the bond grows, so does the fear-what if she loses this too? The girl keeps secrets: her mom's in and out of rehab, her dad still calls when he needs money, and sometimes she disappears just to scream where no one can hear.

Aubrey knows something's off, but never pushes. Until jealousy creeps in. A teammate flirts with Aubrey, just enough to make the girl feel like she's in the way. Instead of speaking up, she shuts down-answering texts less, avoiding eye contact, pulling away because she doesn't know how to hold on to good things.

It's the first time the girl cries in someone's arms and feels safe. Slowly, she lets herself be loved. Aubrey becomes not just her first love, but the first person to ever make her feel like she's allowed to take up space.

And one day, when she finally introduces Aubrey to her little sister-the one she used to hide in closets while chaos raged around them-Aubrey brings flowers and holds her hand like a promise: you're not alone anymore.