"Please. Have you seen Nick?"
"He's, uh, in a meeting. With Kelly. The retreat coordinator."
My stomach drops. "Is everything okay?"
Devon hesitates. "I'm sure it's fine. Just routine stuff."
But his tone says otherwise.
I grab my coffee and sit with Madison, Joelle, and Claire. They're discussing their final full day—one last group activity, farewell dinner tonight, then checkout tomorrow.
"You're quiet," Madison observes. "Is everything okay with Nick?"
"Yeah. I think so."
But doubt is creeping in. What if the meeting is about us? What if someone saw us at the warming hut? What if Kelly is warning him off?
I spot Nick across the room an hour later, talking to Kelly by the windows. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders. Kelly's expression is professional but firm, and Nick's nodding, jaw tight.
When Kelly walks away, Nick glances toward our table. Our eyes meet.
He looks away first.
That tiny rejection lands like a punch. I watch him leave the dining hall without coming over, without a smile, without anything.
"That was weird," Joelle says.
"Maybe he's just busy."
But I don't believe it.
The rest of the day passes in a fog. I don't see Nick at lunch. Don't see him at the afternoon group activity. Don't see him at the spa.
My roommates try to distract me, but all I can think is that I did something wrong. Pushed too hard. Wanted too much. Scared him off by being too intense, too needy, too me.
By dinner, I've convinced myself this was all a mistake. A week-long fantasy that was never meant to survive contact with reality. Nick probably does this every retreat—finds a lonely woman, makes her feel special, then disappears when things get complicated.
Except that doesn't match the man who held me in the warming hut. Who looked at me like I was the only person in the world. Who whispered that he was falling for me.
Unless I imagined that part. Heard what I wanted to hear instead of what he actually said.
During dinner, I see Nick across the room talking to another instructor. He's laughing at something she says, relaxed and easy. Like he's not avoiding me. Like everything's fine.
Like I don't exist.
The invisibility I thought I'd shed wraps around me again, familiar and suffocating. Just as I apparently deserve.
"Daria." Madison touches my arm. "Talk to us."
"There's nothing to talk about. I was stupid and thought—" My voice cracks. "I thought this was real."
"Maybe it is," Joelle says. "Maybe something happened. You should talk to him."
But I can't face the rejection I'll see in his eyes, or hear him explain it was fun, but he's not looking for anything serious. Or have him let me down easy while confirming every fear I've ever had about not being enough.
So, I do what I've always done. I make myself small. Quiet. Invisible.
After dinner, I go back to the suite and start packing. Tomorrow we leave, and I can put this whole humiliating experience behind me.
