The aftermath of leaving the group was suffocating for Rose. She was alone, cut off from people she had once considered friends. The betrayal weighed heavily on her, and no matter how hard she tried to move on, she found herself sinking deeper into sadness with each passing day. The messages and interactions that used to fill her time and bring her joy were gone, replaced by an overwhelming emptiness.
Two people remained by her side, but their presence did little to lift the dark cloud hanging over her. Emma, her long-time friend, stayed in touch, trying her best to cheer Rose up. Yet, even Emma's bright energy couldn't cut through the sadness. Rose appreciated her efforts, but something inside her had changed. She was no longer the lively, optimistic person she once was.
The second person was more surprising—Momo. After the initial fallout, Momo had distanced himself like the others. But unlike the rest of the group, Momo hadn't completely severed ties with Rose. He didn't join in with the cruelty, nor did he defend her. He had simply stayed quiet, watching from the sidelines.
As months passed, Rose's situation worsened. She isolated herself further, spending days alone in her room, staring at her phone, waiting for notifications that never came. Social media became a battlefield—every post she saw from her former friends felt like a reminder of the life she had lost, the connections that had crumbled.
Momo had stopped talking to her completely. His absence hit her hard, deeper than she had anticipated. She had always valued his friendship, and the silence between them felt like a betrayal in its own right. Without him, without the conversations they used to have, the long nights where they would joke and share stories, Rose was left with nothing but her thoughts.
Depression seeped into every corner of her life. It was a slow, numbing descent that made it hard for Rose to even recognize herself. She avoided mirrors, not wanting to see the girl she had become. She slept too much, ate too little, and withdrew from everything she once loved. Days bled into each other, a constant gray haze, and the world seemed to move on without her.
Months passed, and then, unexpectedly, Momo reached out. The message was short and casual—almost like nothing had happened between them.
Momo: Hey, how've you been?
Rose stared at the screen, her heart pounding. She hadn't expected him to reach out, not after everything that had happened. For a moment, she considered not replying, protecting herself from more pain. But she missed him. She missed their conversations and the easy companionship they had shared before everything fell apart.
Tentatively, Rose typed back.
Rose: I've been okay. You?
That one message sparked the beginning of something familiar. Over the next few weeks, Momo and Rose started talking again. At first, it was small, careful conversations, mostly surface-level, but slowly, the walls between them began to come down. Momo made her feel a little better. It wasn't the same as before, but it was enough to give Rose a small sense of relief, like a weight had been lifted from her chest.
For a while, things seemed to be looking up. Momo's return into her life was like a lifeline, pulling her out of the deep sadness she had been drowning in. But the fragile peace didn't last.
One day, another misunderstanding tore them apart again. It was a simple mistake—Rose had said something that Momo had taken the wrong way. Before she could explain, things escalated. The conversation turned sour, and before Rose knew it, Momo had blocked her. The second fallout was even more painful than the first because this time, Rose knew it was coming. She had been holding on too tightly, too afraid to lose him again, and in doing so, she had only pushed him further away.
Alone once more, Rose fell deeper into despair. But this time, the situation took a darker turn. Mikey, Momo, and the others added her back into a group chat, but it wasn't out of kindness or reconciliation. It was to humiliate her.
The group was filled with people who had once been her friends, but now they saw her as nothing more than a target. One by one, they began to tear into her, hurling insults and making cruel jokes at her expense. They mocked her, bringing up past mistakes and twisting them into reasons why she deserved to be ostracized. Their words were sharp and relentless, like daggers cutting through what little self-esteem she had left.
Rose sat in silence as the messages flooded in. She didn't defend herself, didn't try to fight back. She just stared at the screen, the cruelty washing over her. In that moment, she felt utterly defeated. There was no use arguing, no point in trying to explain herself. They had made up their minds about her, and nothing she could say would change it.
The verbal abuse continued for what felt like hours. Each message chipped away at her, but Rose didn't cry. She had already shed too many tears over people who didn't care. Instead, she just listened quietly, absorbing the hate like a sponge, until finally, she left the group without a word.
Time passed, and slowly, the weight began to lift. At first, it was barely noticeable—a fleeting moment of peace in an otherwise dark existence. But over the weeks, those moments grew longer, and Rose started to feel something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope.
She found herself spending more time alone, but instead of feeling isolated, she began to enjoy her own company. She rediscovered old hobbies, picking up books she had abandoned, drawing in her sketchbook, and taking long walks in the park. The solitude, once a prison, became a refuge where she could heal without the pressure of other people's expectations.
There was still pain—deep, aching pain from the loss of her friends, from the betrayal and humiliation she had endured—but Rose began to find strength in herself. For the first time, she realized that she didn't need anyone's approval to be happy. She could be content with her own thoughts, her own company.
Momo eventually reached out again, apologizing for the misunderstanding. This time, Rose was cautious. She forgave him, but she kept her distance, knowing that their relationship was fragile, easily shattered by the smallest mistake. She wasn't ready to fully trust him again, not after everything they had been through. But she didn't push him away entirely. She allowed him back into her life, with boundaries.
As for Mikey, he remained a ghost in her mind, someone she thought about often but could never reach. He had blocked her on every platform, severing all ties. Despite the progress she had made, Rose still missed him. She missed the friendship they had once had, the connection that had felt so deep and real.
There were days when she would scroll through old messages, wondering if there was something she could have done differently. She wanted to reach out to him, to fix things, but Mikey had made it clear that he didn't want her in his life anymore. The door was closed, and Rose had no way of opening it again.
But despite the lingering sadness, Rose found peace in knowing that she had survived. She had endured the cruelty, the isolation, and the heartbreak, and she was still standing. Life wasn't perfect, but it was better. And that was enough for now.
Even though a part of her would always miss Mikey, Rose was learning to let go. She was learning to be happy again, on her own terms, in her own time.