Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 158

**Hearts Written in Silent Rain by Ava Bloomfield**

**Chapter 158**

**Jessa**

As I settled into the passenger seat of Mariah’s car, I was enveloped by the unmistakable scent of cinnamon gum mixed with a hint of vanilla from the air freshener she insisted she hadn’t bought on purpose (but deep down, I knew she totally had). The crisp October air slipped in through the cracked windows, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the car, while the radio played softly in the background, allowing me to hear the rhythmic tapping of my fingers against my thigh—a nervous habit I couldn’t shake.

We were en route to the seamstress, the excitement of our Homecoming dresses nestled securely in garment bags in the back seat. But beneath that excitement lay a knot of anxiety in my stomach that had been tightening since I woke up this morning.

Mariah glanced at me as we turned onto Main Street, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You’re unusually quiet for someone who managed to snag Hot Boy Carter for Homecoming,” she teased, a playful glimmer in her eye.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Please, don’t call him that. It’s so cringy.”

“Why not? It’s accurate, and honestly, it’s hilarious. Plus… you’re deflecting,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow with that signature Mariah sass. “Come on, spill it.”

I sank deeper into my seat, feeling the weight of my insecurities pressing down on me. “I just— I keep thinking that the dress isn’t right for me.”

“It is absolutely perfect for you,” she replied without hesitation. “That color made you look like you were glowing, like you were about to be crowned Queen of Everything.”

I scrunched my nose at her compliment, feeling the familiar wave of self-doubt wash over me. “It makes my boobs look—”

“Fantastic,” she interrupted firmly.

“Mariah—”

“Jessa,” she said, her tone turning serious. “I swear on my very cute, very expensive mascara, if you talk crap about yourself one more time, I’m pulling this car over.”

I rolled my eyes again, though I knew she was right. Ever since Saturday—no, since Friday—no, since forever—I had been second-guessing every part of myself.

With a heavy sigh, I turned my gaze out the window, watching the world blur by. “I think I’m still waiting to wake up.”

Mariah blinked, clearly confused. “Wake up from what?”

“From all of it,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Noah liking me… going to Homecoming with me… wearing a dress I actually like… people at school not laughing for once…”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “It feels like a dream. And a part of me is just waiting for it to end.”

For a moment, silence enveloped us. Mariah turned down the radio, shifting her body to face me more fully, her expression softening.

“Jess,” she said gently, “dreams don’t come with trash fires like Daniel. Dreams are perfect. What you’re living is real. It’s messy. It’s uneven. And it’s a little beautiful, a little awful.” She nudged my shoulder playfully. “And you want to know what real things have that dreams don’t?”

“What?” I muttered, still lost in my thoughts.

“The power to change,” she said, her voice steady and confident.

She paused, letting her words sink in. “And the power to be fought for.”

My throat tightened as I processed her words.

She continued, her passion evident. “Do you really think Noah would have gone nuclear on Daniel if this was all fake? Do you think he would have pulled you out of that party? Called you last night? Looked at you the way he does?” She scoffed, her laughter lightening the mood. “Please. Boys don’t risk public humiliation unless they actually care.”

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