Invisible To Her Bully (Jessa and Noah) novel Chapter 167

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

**Chapter 167**

Jessa

People often speak of karma as if it operates with clockwork precision.

Like, in an instant, someone inflicts pain upon you, and the universe, in its infinite wisdom, swoops in like a celestial referee, throwing a flag to signal a foul play.

But the truth is, sometimes karma moves at a glacial pace.

It can take years to manifest.

And when it finally arrives… you might find yourself at a loss for how to process it all.

That was precisely where I found myself.

It was a Wednesday morning, and I stood at my locker, surrounded by the familiar chaos of high school life.

The hushed murmurs floated through the air, swirling around me like a storm.

“Daniel transferred.”

“He’s not coming back.”

“He’s gone.”

Gone.

But the first emotion that washed over me wasn’t fear.

Nor was it sadness.

Or even pity.

It was an overwhelming sense of relief.

Warm, sharp, and immediate—like the sweet release of air after holding your breath for far too long.

And then, as swiftly as that relief came, guilt crept in.

I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of my locker, pretending to search for a notebook, while my stomach churned with conflicting emotions.

Was it wrong to feel this way?

Was I a horrible person because a part of me felt like celebrating?

I didn’t have the answers.

All I knew was that a significant chunk of my life—the loudest, most tormenting piece—had just been excised.

Ripped away.

Gone.

And suddenly, I didn’t have to dread the prospect of running into him in the hallways.

I didn’t have to brace myself for the sound of his voice echoing behind me.

I didn’t have to prepare for the laughter of my peers, always wondering if it was directed at me.

I could finally breathe.

For the very first time… I could truly breathe.

Just then, Mariah appeared beside me, her hoop earrings swaying gently as she leaned her shoulder against the lockers, a familiar presence in my moment of turmoil.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her voice a gentle balm.

I swallowed hard, grappling with my emotions. “I… don’t know.”

Mariah studied me for a few moments, her expression softening in that unique way that was so distinctly hers—equal parts sass and genuine compassion.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” she said, her tone understanding.

I nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling in.

“Like… part of me is relieved,” I whispered, my voice barely above a hush. “And part of me feels horrible for feeling that way.”

She nudged me with her shoulder, a comforting gesture. “Jess, he tormented you.”

“I know, but—”

“No,” she interjected firmly. “There is no ‘but.’ He made your life a living hell. He made comments about your body, your clothes, your weight, your very existence. He humiliated you. He humiliated Noah. He humiliated Jackson. You don’t owe him your sympathy.”

At her words, my throat constricted painfully.

Hearing someone else articulate it—out loud—made it all too real.

I wasn’t fabricating my experiences.

I wasn’t exaggerating.

Daniel was indeed cruel.

And that cruelty had clung to me like a stubborn stain.

Mariah lowered her voice even further, as if sharing a secret. “He’s part of the reason you look in the mirror and question whether you’re enough.”

Her words cracked something deep within me.

Because she was right.

And the truth stung.

“He’s part of the reason you flinch when someone laughs behind you,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “And part of the reason you still wonder if Noah actually wants you.”

I blinked rapidly, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

She squeezed my shoulder, her grip reassuring. “Then that’s the part we’re working on.”

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the heaviness lift just a little.

“He made me hate myself,” I said quietly, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue. “I know that sounds pathetic—”

“Not pathetic,” Mariah interrupted immediately, her tone fierce. “That’s called trauma. And you’re allowed to heal from it.”

We stood in silence for a moment, surrounded by the bustling crowd of students moving around us like a river, while we remained anchored in our own moment.

But this time, I didn’t feel swept away.

Just grounded.

Just… finally okay.

“I don’t miss him,” I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You shouldn’t.”

“And I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

Mariah nodded firmly, her expression resolute. “You shouldn’t be sorry for surviving someone who wanted to break you.”

My heart thudded heavily in my chest, a realization dawning on me.

She was right.

Daniel had hurt me.

He had bent parts of me that I was still trying to straighten out.

He had made me believe my body was wrong and that I was merely the punchline of a cruel joke.

He had instilled doubt in me about Noah.

He had made me doubt myself.

And now, he wasn’t here to do that anymore.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity…

I felt free.

Mariah linked her arm through mine, a gesture of solidarity. “Ready for fifth period?”

“Yeah,” I exhaled, a genuine smile breaking through. “Actually… yeah.”

We walked down the hallway together, moving past whispers, past memories, past every corner where Daniel had once stood.

And for once?

I didn’t look back.