Time is not your friend.
I need to apologize. Now. Before?—
Before what? Before it’s too late? It’s already too late for Dahlia. Before someone else dies? They will, if Marcus isn’t stopped. Before Alex decides I’m not worth forgiving?
That one scares me most.
I stand on shaking legs. Follow the path back through the shop.
The woman stands at the register, wrapping something in tissue paper.
“I didn’t pick anything yet,” I say.
“Yes, you did.” She holds up a small velvet box. “This came in yesterday. Was not supposed to. Vendor error, they said. But I knew someone would come.”
She opens the box.
Inside rests a dandelion frozen in resin. Suspended. Perfect. The white seeds caught mid-wish, frozen in time like someone captured the exact moment before magic happens. On a rose gold chain. Delicate. Beautiful.
It’s so perfectly Alex I could cry.
“This one.” I grab it like I’m afraid someone else will take it first. “I need this one.”
“I know.” She’s already wrapping it in tissue paper the color of twilight. Purple-blue-pink. The colors of our ritual. Ties it with twine. Hands it to me like she’s passing over something sacred.
“Remember—what must be said, say it today.”
“I will.” I clutch the package. “I promise.”
Outside, the cold is a shock after the shop’s warmth. The traffic on Passyunk is loud after the muffled quiet inside.
I pull out my phone. My hands are shaking.
I open voice memos. Stare at the red record button.
This is it. No more practicing. No more organizing the words until they’re perfect.
Just... truth.
I hit record.
“Alex. Hi. So—” I stop. Delete it.
Try again.
Record.
“Hey. I fucked up. Like, really fucked up. And I know you probably—” My voice sounds wrong. Too casual. Like I’m not taking this seriously. Delete.
Record.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right about everything and I was—” Too stiff. Too formal. Like I’m reading from a script. Delete.
Record.
“I’m standing on Passyunk in my pajamas—” I laugh. It sounds slightly unhinged. “Never mind. Starting over.”
Delete.
