Harper’s eyes narrow dangerously. “What did he do?”
I pull out a chair and collapse into it. “The hearing was a disaster. Lawyers from his old firm showed up—expensive suits, smug faces, the whole corporate arsenal. His old boss offered him a partnership. Three hundred thousand dollars plus bonuses.” I attempt a laugh but it emerges as something closer to a choked sob. “Pretty substantial upgrade from our small town.”
Sara slides a glass of water in front of me, moving like I’m made of cracked glass. “Did he accept?”
“I didn’t stay to hear his answer.” My voice breaks despite my best effort to sound detached. I drink some water but my throat still burns. “But nobody refuses that kind of money. Nobody.”
Harper throws her wooden spoon down. Red sauce splatters across the white counter like blood spatter. “That absolute bastard. All this—the daily coffee, the fundraiser, the roses—just to bail again when something better comes along?”
“Harper,” Sara says quietly, a warning note.
But Harper’s already wound up, pacing the kitchen, her red hair swinging with each turn. “We should totally key his car. No, wait—better idea. We fill his office with packing peanuts. Or glitter. So much glitter he’ll be finding it in his suits when he’s sixty.” She stops, eyes bright with vengeful creativity. “I know a guy who can reprogram his phone to play ‘Baby Shark’ on every incoming call.”
Despite everything, I manage a weak laugh. “I don’t think property damage is the solution here.”
Sara retrieves a bottle of wine from the rack. “Let’s relocate to the living room. Dinner’s going to need another twenty minutes anyway.”
We migrate to the couch with our wine glasses. Mia senses my distress immediately, abandoning her bed to press againstmy legs. I run my fingers through her soft fur, grateful for her solid warmth anchoring me.
“Did he actually say he was accepting the job?” Sara asks, tucking her feet beneath her. The lamp behind her creates a halo in her blonde hair.
I shake my head. “No, but?—”
“So you don’t actually know his answer,” she points out gently.
Harper snorts into her wine. “Please. Three hundred thousand dollars or our struggling small town? That’s not exactly a difficult choice.”
“Not everyone prioritizes the biggest paycheck,” Sara counters. “Maybe he’s changed. Maybe he values different things now than he did at twenty-one.”
I stare down at my wine glass, watching light refract through the burgundy liquid. Five years ago, I genuinely believed he’d choose me. That I was enough. That what we had mattered more than anything Seattle could offer. I was catastrophically wrong then—so why would I be right this time?
“Even if he stays now,” Harper says, her voice softer but still skeptical, “what happens next time someone dangles a bigger opportunity? People don’t fundamentally change, Soph.”
“Some do,” Sara insists. “Sometimes it takes losing something irreplaceable to understand what actually matters.”
They continue debating, their voices washing over me like waves. Harper’s protective fury crashing against Sara’s optimistic hope. I stop listening and just stroke Mia’s fur, over and over. Outside the window, twilight deepens to true darkness. Stars emerge one by one. The same stars I watched five years ago when he left. The same stars that’ll keep burning regardless of what happens tomorrow.
“Sophie?” Sara’s voice cuts through my fog. “What do you actually want? Not what you think will happen, but what do you want?”
What do I want? I want to stop caring. I want to be over him. I want his boss’s offer to mean nothing to me. I want to travel back five years and somehow not fall so completely that it still hurts this much now.
I stand abruptly, making Mia’s head pop up in surprise. “I need air.” I grab Mia’s leash from the hook by the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“Soph, it’s dark out there,” Harper protests, worry replacing anger.
“I have my phone.” I clip Mia’s leash on without meeting their eyes. “We won’t go far.”
But I do go far. All the way to Cliffside Trail where the path runs along the cliff edge above the churning ocean. It’s darker than I anticipated, the moon hiding behind thick clouds. I use my phone’s flashlight to navigate, illuminating patches of damp grass and tree roots.
The wind whips my hair across my face and carries the scent of salt and seaweed from far below. Waves crash against rocks in that steady, eternal rhythm. Mia walks beside me, her nails clicking on rocky sections of the trail. She stays close like she senses my fragile state, looking up at me now and then.
We reach the bench—our bench, the old weathered wood where Zayn and I used to sit for hours talking about everything and nothing. I sink onto it, feeling the cold seep through my jeans. Mia settles at my feet with a contented sigh, warming my ankles.
In the darkness, I can’t tell where the black ocean ends and the night sky begins. Just endless darkness punctuated by white foam where waves break against rocks. My chest feels equally vast and hollow.
I reach out to touch the roses Zayn planted.Putting down roots, he’d written on that card. What a joke. The petals feel like velvet under my fingertips, impossibly soft.
I pluck one petal free and roll it between my thumb and finger. It releases a sweet, clean fragrance even as it begins to bruise.
