“Of course. You eat sandwiches every day—anything with bread, really, and you like strawberry milkshakes more than chocolate. I’m a good observer, babe.”
She winked and started ordering before I could say anything else.
This was my first sleepover ever, and it was nice to be able to see into another person’s life. Aly’s world felt so different from mine. Bright. Loud. Safe. I wondered what it felt like to grow up knowing you’d never have to fight for stability, never have to worry about money or being alone or wondering who’d stay.
Aly looked up from her phone and caught me staring. Her expression softened, and she tossed the phone aside before patting the spot next to her on the bed.
“Come here,” she said gently.
I hesitated for a second, then got up and sat beside her, cross-legged. The mattress dipped under my weight.
“Food’ll be here in twenty minutes,” she said, stretching. “Then we’re gonna talk about whatever you want. Or nothing. Your choice.”
I nodded, staring down at my hands again.
Her room felt safe.
Too safe that I didn’t feel like a burden.
My lips trembled first. A warning. Then the sting came, that hot, unbearable ache behind my eyes that I tried to blink away but couldn’t.
Aly froze up when she noticed. “Rora?”
And before I could answer, before I could even find a word, she reached over, pulled me down next to her, and wrapped her arms around me as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
That was it. That was all it took.
The sob broke out of me before I could stop it. Loud, ugly, real. My body shook against hers as she rubbed my back gently, whispering, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
But I wasn’t okay.
I wasn’t okay at all.
“H-he’s gone,” I choked out between uneven breaths. “He’s—he’s gone, Aly.”
She stiffened. “Who?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back the next wave, but it was useless. It broke through like a dam giving up.
“He said—” My voice cracked. “He said he doesn’t want to see me again.”
Aly went quiet. The silence that followed wasn’t judgemental, just… stunned. Then, softly, she whispered, “God, please don’t tell me it’s Joshua.”
And I just nodded, the movement jerky, desperate.
Aly’s eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief. But before she could say anything else, I broke completely, shaking in her arms, tears soaking through her shirt, fingers gripping her like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
“Oh, baby, no,” she murmured, voice cracking as she tightened her hold. “Oh, Rora…”
“I-I don’t understand,” I sobbed. “He—he was so sweet, Aly. He took care of me. For weeks. Weeks.” I pulled back just enough to look at her, vision blurred and messy. “He cooked for me, he let me stay with him, he—he took in a stray kitten because he didn’t want me to skip meals to feed it, he—he becamesomeone I thought I could trust again, and then he just—” My voice broke entirely. “He left. Like all of it meant nothing.”
Aly’s brows pulled together, pain flickering in her expression.
“He kept me company,” I continued, words tumbling out uncontrollably now. “He didn’t let me be alone. He made sure I ate, that I slept, that I didn’t fall apart, and then one day, he just told me he didn’t want to see my face again. And I—” I hiccupped through the sob. “I love him, Aly. I love him so much, and he’s gone. He’s gone, and I can’t even be mad at him because I still—” My voice broke. “I still love him.”
Aly’s arms tightened around me again, her hand running through my hair, grounding me through the storm I couldn’t stop.
She whispered, almost to herself, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he could be kind. I didn’t think Joshua Lockhart had it in him.” Her voice was shaking, somewhere between guilt and heartbreak. “I didn’t even know you two were okay now. I thought he still—”
