“I was never enough to make him stay,” I whisper to the darkness, but the crashing waves nearly swallow my words. The truth I’ve been desperately avoiding slams into me all at once, and tears spill hot down my cold cheeks. “I wasn’t enough then. I’m not enough now. I’ll never be enough.”
Mia whines softly and rests her heavy head on my knee. Her eyes catch fragments of starlight as she looks up at me with unconditional love. She’s always here. She’d never abandon me, no matter what better options appeared.
I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand. Breathe in the salt air. The rose petal is still clutched in my fingers, leaving its perfume on my skin like a ghost. I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, trying to release the crushing weight from my chest.
I should go home. It’s late and these cliffs are dangerously in full daylight, let alone darkness. But I linger a moment longer, staring up at the stars. Out there, life continues. Lights flicker on in distant cities. People make choices. The world doesn’t pause just because my heart is breaking.
The scent of roses follows me as I finally stand to leave. They remind me of promises that dissolved like morning fog. Of hope that might bloom or might wither. Of a love that keeps growing stubbornly in my chest even when I desperately wish it wouldn’t.
CHAPTER 15
Fragile Truces
I’ve mastered the art of avoidance. Three days of arriving early before Zayn’s coffee delivery, volunteering for house calls to stay out of the office, taking the long route home to bypass his office building. Three days of sending his calls to voicemail and pretending his texts don’t exist. Three days of ignoring the constant ache in my chest that keeps me awake at night. I’m exhausted, but at least I haven’t had to face him. Haven’t had to hear him say out loud that he’s leaving again.
I flip on the lights, my eyes burning from another sleepless night. My desk looks wrong without the coffee cup that’s been appearing there for weeks. I twist my hair into a messy bun, pull on my scrubs, and start prepping for the day before anyone else arrives. If I look busy enough, maybe no one will notice my poor state or the dark circles I couldn’t quite cover with concealer.
By noon, I’ve messed up three vaccination records and nearly administered the wrong medication to Mrs. Peterson’s Chihuahua. My brain feels like it’s operating through thick fog.
“Sophie.” Dr. Martinez’s voice startles me. She’s standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face. “That’s the third time you’ve reviewed that same chart in ten minutes.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, shuffling papers aimlessly. “Just distracted.”
Dr. Martinez steps closer. “Is this about the preservation hearing? Or something else?” The way she emphasizes “something else” makes heat crawl up my neck.
“I’m fine.” My voice comes out too high. “Just tired.”
Dr. Martinez gives me a look that says she’s not buying it for a second. “Take a break. Eat something. You look like you’re about to collapse.”
I nod, grateful she doesn’t push further. I escape to the break room, which smells faintly of burned popcorn someone nuked yesterday. The microwave clock reads 1:42. I sink into a chair and unwrap my turkey sandwich, appetite completely absent. My phone buzzes again—the eighth missed call from Zayn in three days. Thirteen unread texts I can’t bring myself to open. I power it off entirely.
This is pathetic, hiding from a grown man like I’m some lovesick teenager. I’m twenty-three years old, not thirteen. But he’s not any man, and I’m not just sad—I’m terrified of reliving it all. Of hearing him actually say the words:I’m returning to Seattle. The prestigious career won. You lost. Again.
“I should just quit,” I tell my sandwich. “Move to Montana. Work with ranch animals exclusively. No more Zayn, no more painful memories, no more?—”
The break room door swings open. It’s Zayn. He looks rough—hair disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, shadows under his eyes that mirror mine. When our eyes meet, electricity shoots down my spine despite everything.
“You’re avoiding me,” he states flatly.
I set down my sandwich carefully. “I’m busy.”
“Busy ignoring my calls.” He steps inside and lets the door close behind him with a soft click. “Busy taking the long routehome to bypass my office. Busy volunteering for house calls when you never want to do them.”
Emotion wells up. He’s been watching what I do. “Did you need something specific, or…?”
He moves closer, and I stand too abruptly. My hip collides painfully with the table edge. I wince.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice drops lower, frustrated but wounded underneath. “We were making real progress on the preservation case. We compiled all that documentation together. We were working as a team. Then suddenly—nothing. You won’t speak to me, won’t even look at me.”
“I heard you.” The words escape before I can trap them. “At the courthouse. With Cameron.”
His expression freezes. “What exactly did you hear?”
“Enough.” I wrap my arms protectively across my chest, trying to shield what’s left of my heart. “Three hundred thousand dollars plus performance bonuses. Partnership track. Exactly like the position you couldn’t refuse five years ago.” My voice cracks, betraying how much this still destroys me. “Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll be very successful back in Seattle.”
His voice goes dangerously quiet. “You didn’t hear my response to him.”
“I didn’t need to.” I pivot away and busy myself with the coffee maker, anything to avoid his eyes. My hands shake so violently I spill water across the counter. “Let’s be honest—we both know how this story ends. Prestigious firm versus small-town veterinary clinic? Pretty obvious which one wins.”
