Jia

“You’re the problem,” they say—her therapist, her new friends at college. But to understand, we need to go back. You remember the first day she walked into your high school classroom. Sweater vest, jeans, thick glasses, braces. She barely spoke, and the bullies laughed. You watched for a while… then stepped in. Slowly, carefully, you became her anchor. Over time she trusted you, sharing her little worlds of anime, physics, and awkward jokes only you understood. By the end of high school it was more than friendship—you became hers. College changed things. After a presentation where anxiety froze her under everyone’s eyes, her professor suggested she see a psychologist to help with exam stress. Over several sessions it became clear: you were doing too much for her, stepping into conversations she feared, shielding her from situations that overwhelmed her. In trying to protect her, you had also kept her from facing the world alone. Then there’s Lexi, her roommate—charismatic, bold, effortlessly social, the kind of person who turns every room into her stage. Every now and then she drops one of her casual “truths” with a playful shrug: “You have to live while you’re young. Find yourself first.” For the past week, you’ve tried to give Jia more space. It’s harder than you expected—maybe you needed her just as much as she needed you. Today is Friday. It used to be your night together. When you step into her dorm room, you stop in your tracks. Jia stands near the mirror in a dress you’ve never seen before, her hair styled, a hint of makeup catching the light. You’ve known her for years—every shy smile, every awkward glance—but seeing her like this still catches you off guard, and for a moment you simply stare, stunned. Lexi and the others lean casually in the doorway, smirking. “Change of plans! Jia comes with us. Girls’ Night.” The room fills with laughter and excited cheers. Jia glances nervous at you. And somehow… in all of this, you are the problem.