**Kayla's POV**

"We gather here today to honor the memory of a beloved daughter and cherished friend, Ms. Fiona Yamen," the priest intoned, his voice steady yet filled with profound grief.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I glanced around at my friends, each visibly shattered by the loss. The atmosphere was heavy, the weight of sorrow nearly suffocating as I caught sight of Fiona's parents clutching each other, their hearts shattered by the absence of their precious girl.

Fiona wasn’t just a friend; she was a part of me, the sister I had always longed for. The harsh reality of her absence crashed over me like a tidal wave. I could still feel the gut-wrenching sorrow I had experienced in her hospital room, staring at her stillness, the lifeless body of the girl who had brightened my world.

I blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the cloud of disbelief that enveloped me. My mom squeezed my hand gently, her concern evident as fresh tears began to spill.

“I’m fine,” I whispered to her, though deep down, I knew I was far from okay. It felt as if a piece of my soul had been wrenched away with Fiona.

Despite her wishes, we had to abandon our customary black attire, our brightly colored clothes a defiant tribute to the vibrant spirit she had been.

As the service came to an end and guests began to trickle away, Mrs. Yamen approached me. “Have you eaten, Kayla?” she asked, her voice laced with motherly concern.

“Yes, ma'am," I replied, the words feeling heavy on my tongue as I lied.

She seemed to sense my feigned bravado. “Go eat, sweetheart. You’ve done so much today,” she insisted gently.

“It’s nothing, ma’am,” I returned quietly, my heart aching for her loss.

After the final hugs with Mr. and Mrs. Yamen and the others left, I finally returned home, seeking refuge in my room. I shut the door behind me, eager to escape the world that now felt so harsh and empty.

Fiona had burst into my life like a ray of sunshine, transforming my once dull perspective on friendship and life itself. Memories flooded my mind—each laugh, each adventure shared only deepened the ache in my heart. How could she be gone? It felt like a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake.

As my thoughts spiraled deeper into despair, I felt the familiar weight of tears. Just then, a gentle knock interrupted the storm inside me.

“Can I come in, Kayla?” My mom’s voice was soft, and though I didn’t respond, she opened the door and stepped in.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said, sitting beside me and pulling me into a tight embrace. In her warmth, I let the tears flow freely, her steady presence reminding me that I was not alone.

Days passed, and graduation day arrived. As I prepared for this pivotal moment with my friends, an undeniable void lingered—the absence of Fiona loomed large. We were meant to share this milestone together.

“I miss her,” Ashley’s voice broke the silence, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Me too,” Lila echoed, a somber reality settling over us.

I nodded, emotions swirling in my heart.

The memory of Fiona filled our minds, each of us grappling with her loss. “She was so excited for today. She thought we had all the time in the world to start university together,” Lila said, her voice laced with sadness.

"Now I understand why she always wanted to seize every moment," Ashley remarked quietly.

“I miss her so much,” I admitted, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek.

“Same,” they murmured, shared grief binding us in that moment.

When the time finally came to leave for school, I felt a mixture of emotions swirl within me as we played Fiona’s favorite playlist in the car. The familiar tunes wrapped around us like a comforting hug.

"Fiona loved this song," Jake said, a bittersweet smile crossing his face.

"She really did," I agreed, feeling a pang of longing.

As the graduation ceremony unfolded, anticipation and anxiety bubbled inside me, and finally, it was my turn to step up for my valedictorian speech. This was our moment, one I wished more than anything to share with Fiona.

"Good evening, everyone.

I stand here as your valedictorian, which still feels surreal to say out loud. I’ve spent weeks trying to come up with something meaningful to say — something worthy of the people sitting in front of me, and the ones we’ve lost along the way.

High school is supposed to be a story about growth, and success, and figuring out who we are. But the truth is, it’s also about the people who shape us. The late-night talks, the laughter in the halls, the heartbreaks, the failures, and the friendships that remind us we’re not alone.

I wouldn’t be here without mine.

To every person who stayed up studying, who cried in the bathroom between classes, who didn’t always believe in themselves — but showed up anyway — you made it. And that’s more than enough.

We’re walking out of these doors into a world that’s uncertain. But we’ve learned how to keep going. We’ve learned how to hold each other up. And maybe that’s the most important lesson of all.

Thank you. I’m proud of us. I really am.

This part wasn’t supposed to be written. But here I am, writing it because I need to, because she deserves to be remembered out loud.

Fiona wasn’t just my best friend. She was a spark—one of those people who made ordinary days feel electric. She had this laugh that made you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t.

When she slipped into a coma, we all kept waiting for her to come back. I used to believe that if I just said the right words and told the right memory, she’d open her eyes and roll them at me for being so dramatic. But she didn’t. And now all I have are those memories—and I will carry them, always.

I dedicate this moment to her. To every story, we never finished. To every plan we made that she never got to see. I’ll keep going, Fiona. I’ll keep living for the both of us. And I’ll never let the world forget you. Thank you,"