"Whatever spiral you're in. Stop."
"I'm not spiraling."
"Lucy. I'm practically your sister. I've watched you spiral since you were twelve. I know your spiral face."
Later that evening, I find myself back in my room. The sun's setting early, painting everything in shades of gold and pink.
I think about everything that's happened. Connor's words at dinner. Dad's encouragement at breakfast. Natalie's fierce certainty that Ryder cares about me. Emma's reminder that I'm brave.
I think about Ryder's silence. About all the ways I've been trying to interpret it.
And I think about what I want.
Not what Connor wants for me. Not what's safe or logical.
What I want.
I want Ryder. I want what we've been building these past weeks, the easy conversations and the charged silences, the way he listens and the way he laughs at my terrible jokes.
But more than that? I want to stop apologizing for wanting things. Stop making myself smaller to fit into other people's comfort zones. Stop waiting for someone else to decide if I'm worth choosing.
I deserve someone who fights for me the way I fight for them. Someone who shows up, even when it's hard. Someone who doesn't make me wonder if I'm too much or not enough.
And if Ryder can't be that person? If whatever's keeping him silent right now is a sign of bigger problems?
Then I'll walk away. It will hurt. But I'll survive.
Because I'm done settling for people who won't fight for me.
I grab my phone one more time. No new messages. No missed calls.
I take a breath and type:
Me:I need to know where we stand. Not today, not right now while you're dealing with whatever you're dealing with. But soon. We need to have a real conversation about this. About us. Because I'm not doing this halfway anymore.
I read it three times. My finger hovers over the send button.
Then I hit it.
The message delivers. I watch it sit there, those two little checkmarks confirming he'll see it whenever he looks at his phone.
The pounding in my ribs isn't anxiety. It's something else. Something that feels almost like power.
I've said what I needed to say. I've asked for what I deserve. Now it's up to him to decide if he can meet me there.
And if he can't?
Then at least I'll know I tried. At least I'll know I fought for what I wanted instead of waiting for someone else.
I set my phone aside and curl up under my covers. Outside, the stars are coming out, real ones this time. They're bright and cold and constant.
I used to make wishes on stars. Used to believe wanting something hard enough could make it real.
Maybe I still do.
But tonight, I'm not wishing for Ryder to come back. I'm not wishing for Connor to understand me or for everything to work out.
Tonight, I'm wishing for courage. For strength. For the ability to keep choosing myself, even when it's hard.
