All Chapters of Invisible To Her Bully: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

JessaThe diner felt different today.Less like a spotlight, more like a bubble — the kind of safe, familiar place that didn’t care about gossip or rumors.The four of us had taken over one of the corner booths at Benny’s, same spot we always used to squeeze into when we were younger. Jackson and Noah on one side, Mariah and me on the other. The sound of plates clattering, the smell of syrup and bacon, and the low hum of conversation filled the air. For once, it felt easy.Mariah was stirring her iced coffee, tapping the straw against the cup. “Okay, so be honest,” she said, glancing at Jackson. “Are people still talking about yesterday?”Jackson groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Mariah, you kissed me in front of half the school. Of course they’re still talking about it.”“Yeah,” Noah said with a smirk. “You’re kind of trending, man.”Jackson shot him a glare. “Not helping.”Mariah grinned. “I’m just saying… the internet can be brutal, but it can also have a short attention spa

JessaFor once, walking into school didn’t feel like stepping onto a battlefield.The air was different — lighter, somehow. Maybe it was because Mariah and I were still laughing about yesterday at Benny’s. Or maybe because for once, the stares didn’t make my stomach twist.People were still whispering, sure. Phones still buzzed. But after everything that had gone down — the drama, the kiss, the online mess — it all just felt… small.I wasn’t hiding anymore.Mariah and I made our way down the hall toward our lockers, coffee cups in hand. She looked amazing, as usual — hair shiny, eyes bright, confidence practically glowing off her. I was proud of her. Proud of both of us, honestly.We’d survived a storm, and somehow, we’d come out the other side stronger.⸻Jackson walked up the hall from the other direction, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his usual swagger in place. A few people glanced at him, then at Mariah, like they were waiting for confirmation of what everyone had seen at

JacksonThe locker room didn’t sound like a locker room.No trash talk. No music. No laughter.Just the sound of metal lockers clanking shut and the low shuffle of cleats on tile.Everyone knew what was coming.Coach had seen the videos. The fight, the party, Daniel running his mouth online.And of course — the one of my sister, Jessa, kneeing him so hard he folded like a lawn chair.It was everywhere. TikTok, school chat threads, even the local gossip pages.And now, we were all about to pay for it.The door slammed open, and Coach Daniels stalked in like a storm cloud in a Ridgeville hoodie. His face was red, jaw tight, the clipboard already in his hand. He didn’t even need to blow his whistle. The entire room froze.“Everybody shut up,” he barked.Not that anyone was talking.He scanned the room, eyes cutting through each of us one by one. “I’ve been coaching this team for fifteen years. Fifteen. And I have never been this disappointed.”Nobody moved. Even the guys who usually acte

JessaThe house was quiet when I got home — the kind of quiet that sat heavy in the air.No TV, no music, no noise from Jackson’s room. Just silence.When I walked into the kitchen, Jackson was sitting at the table, still in his practice clothes. His duffel bag was dumped by the door, a towel around his neck, his hair damp from a quick shower. He stared at a water bottle like it had personally offended him.“You look like you lost,” I said gently, setting my backpack on the counter.He didn’t even look up. “Didn’t. Coach just tore into us.”I frowned and slid into the chair across from him. “About Daniel?”“About everything,” Jackson muttered. “The party, the crap online, the stupid drama. Guess we embarrassed the whole damn team.”There was something different in his tone — not just anger. Frustration, guilt.And maybe… exhaustion.I twisted the cap off a bottle of water and said softly, “You look mad.”He exhaled sharply. “Maybe I am.”For a while, neither of us spoke. The fridge hu

MariahThe first bell hadn’t even rung yet, and Ridgeville High already felt alive — the kind of buzzing, restless Monday morning energy that made the halls feel like a hive. Backpacks slammed, sneakers squeaked against the tile, and everyone was catching up on the latest weekend gossip.I was heading toward my locker when I spotted Jessa Lombardi walking down the hallway — and I swear, I did a double take.Because this wasn’t the same Jessa who used to walk with her head down, drowning in hoodies.Her hair was down, soft waves brushing her shoulders, and she was wearing that pink sweater — the one we’d bought Saturday. The one I practically had to drag her into the fitting room to try on.It was perfect on her. Subtle, soft, and it made her look like she actually belonged in her own skin.I couldn’t help the grin that crept across my face. She looked incredible — confident even. Not like she was trying too hard, but like she’d finally realized she didn’t have to hide.And apparently,