She Didn’t Come, She Didn’t Need To

A woman looking into a mirror or water, and seeing her reflection not as she is—but as Venus or her divine self.

Because healing in private is louder than proving a point in public.

They talked about the reunion for months.

Group chats revived. Facebook pages updated. People she hadn’t thought about in years suddenly appeared in her “people you may know” tab — smiling, aging, and still clinging to the past like it was a trophy. Everyone wanted to see who changed. Who stayed the same. Who was winning. Who was pretending.

But she wouldn’t be there.
Not because she couldn’t.
Because she no longer needed to be.

There Was a Time She Would Have Shown Up for Closure

The old her would’ve obsessed over it. Picked the perfect dress. Practiced what to say. Fantasized about walking in — glowing, untouched, successful — just to make them regret how they treated her.

She would’ve scanned the room for old frenemies, made sure to laugh loudly near old crushes, and maybe even rehearsed a nonchalant line like:

“Oh, that? I started my own thing. It’s been going really well, actually.”

But growth changed her goals.

Now?
Silence was her revenge.
Absence was her closure.

They Would’ve Watched Her Like a Plot Twist

Because she wasn’t the same girl they remembered.
She was softer — not weaker.
Prettier — not for them.