The Weight of Wax
Veronica lived in a town where the streets were narrow, the houses leaned close together, and privacy was a luxury no one could afford. It was a thoroughly middle-class neighborhood, a place where everyone knew your name, your business, and the exact time you left the house.
Yet, there was a comforting, familiar rhythm to its noise.
Every morning, as Veronica stepped out of her front door to begin the long trek to the university, the neighborhood came alive around her. She would offer a quiet wave to the elderly neighbor across the lane, who was always out early watering his fading potted plants, the mist catching the morning sun. A few doors down, a mother stood on the curb, tightly holding the hands of her two young children as they waited for the yellow school van to rumble down the street.
It was a community bound by shared struggles and daily routines—a place where dreams were modest, and the reality of the town was a suffocating one if you wanted anything more.
Veronica harbored dreams far too vast for these narrow streets. She clung to a single, burning conviction: if life gave her even a fraction of a chance, she would flee. She would escape to a place far away from here, a sanctuary of peace detached from all her sorrows.
She had known deep sorrow, but resilience was woven into her fabric. She had stared down every hardship with a quiet bravery, fueled by the unwavering belief that one day, she would set everything right. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how much more effort she had to pour into the struggle.
Her university wasn’t one of those elite, high-profile institutions with sweeping lawns and marble arches. It was an average, weathered campus built of concrete and crowded corridors—a no-frills institution where seats were hard-fought and resources were tight.
But it was hers. She had earned her place there on a hard-earned scholarship, studying philosophy by day and spinning words as a freelance writer by night to keep her small home afloat.
Her peers often looked at her with admiration. “You’re so strong, Veronica. You manage everything so effortlessly,” they would say, watching her navigate the demanding curriculum with a calm grace.
But none of them could see the violent storm of struggle raging beneath her quiet exterior. On this particular afternoon, the focus of that internal storm was directed entirely at her best friend.
Hailey was weeping uncontrollably in the courtyard, her shoulders shaking with a desperate finality. The boy she loved had walked out on her, and to Hailey, it felt as though her entire world had turned to ash.
Veronica stood over her, watching the meltdown with a gaze so piercing it could have cut glass. She wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into her. Instead, she reached down and firmly gripped Hailey’s wrist.
“Come on,” Veronica ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to the cafeteria.”
Even amidst the low hum of the university cafeteria, Hailey’s tears flowed without respite.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Veronica said, leaning across the table and sliding a napkin forward. “Wipe your face. How long are you going to keep crying like this? He isn’t going to materialize out of thin air just because you’re ruining your eyes.”
Hailey looked up, her eyes red and swollen, a mix of grief and sudden resentment in her voice. “You wouldn’t understand, Veronica. You’re the one who boasts about having a heart of stone, claiming it’ll never beat for anyone. Because according to your grand philosophy, love only makes a person weak.”
“And isn’t that the absolute truth? Just look at yourself right now,” Veronica countered. Her voice dropped to a fierce, protective whisper. “Hailey, my dear… if we don’t turn our hearts to stone, people will mistake them for wax. They will keep burning us down until there is nothing left but a cold, extinguished wick.”
Hailey froze, the raw truth of the words striking her into silence. She stared at Veronica, momentarily forgetting her own heartbreak.
A heavy pause settled between them before Hailey finally found her voice, a faint, challenging glint in her eyes. “I’ll ask you again when you fall in love. Let’s see how well you preach this philosophy of yours then.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Veronica replied dryly, already standing up and grabbing Hailey’s hand once more. “For now, the drama is over. Move it, we’re late for our next class.”
Without waiting for a response, Veronica pulled her friend up and led the way out, stepping back into the rhythm of the world she was entirely determined to conquer.
