She’s created a world that doesn’t need me, and yet all I want is to be part of it.
I know it hasn’t been easy, and I know I wasn’t here to help her through any of it, but I can’t help but feel…proud. For her. For all she’s accomplished.
And a little bit shattered that she did it all without me.
I linger across the street, hands stuffed deep in my jacket pockets, watching the way she moves through the space—graceful, confident. The girl I remember is still in there somewhere. She’s built something beautiful. Something she deserves. But I can’t walk in there. Not yet.
Because if she looks at me with indifference…if I see that I’ve become a memory she no longer mourns…I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
I know the people in town still talk about me, still have their opinions about what happened, why I ended up in prison. And Kenna—she doesn’t owe me anything. She doesn’t owe me a second of her time.
But I owe her everything. Even if she never lets me say it.
I keep walking.
The days slip by. I wander through familiar faces—places I haven’t been to in years—just trying to fill the silence. I stop by a few old spots, run into a couple of people I used to know, but none of it feels like home.
They look at me like they want to believe I’ve changed, but no one says it out loud. And honestly, maybe they shouldn’t.
I still don’t know where I fit into this place anymore, but I know I won’t find it byhiding.
So I keep moving, hoping one of these streets will lead me back to her.
I decide to take a walk to the shore. It’s always the same, no matter how much time passes. The scent of the salt in the air, the rhythmic crash of the waves against the sand—it’s like stepping into another version of myself, one I left behind a long time ago. I used to come here to think, to clear my head, and today, it’s where I find myself again.
I’ve been walking for what feels like hours, my feet sinking into the sand with every step. The late afternoon sun paints the sky with shades of orange and pink, and the cool breeze tugs at my jacket, reminding me that life moves forward, whether I’m ready.
But part of me is still stuck back there—on the day I let go of the one person who believed in me.
I find a spot near the water’s edge and sit down, watching the waves roll in. It’s quiet here. Peaceful in a way that almost makes the chaos of everything else feel distant. I pull my knees to my chest and let the memories flood in.
The last time I was here with Kenna was years ago. Back when everything felt simple—before everything I did drove us apart. We were still kids, still figuring out who we were and what we wanted. It was summer, and the heat had wrapped around us like a blanket, the warmth that made the world feel safe.
I remember the way she laughed. Her head tilted back, eyes bright, and her fingers tangled with mine like they belonged there.
I decide then to go to the salon in a few days. If I don’t run into her by then, I’ll make the first move. I won’t force it, but I’ll go. I’ll figure out a way to see her, to talk to her, even if it’s just for a minute.
Because maybe…just maybe…there’s still something left to salvage.
It’s the day I’m going to the salon. I’m standing across from Enchanted Locks. There are only a few people inside. My heart beats faster than it should. The nerves settle in like they always do when I think about Kenna, but this time it’s different. I’m not worried about what she’ll say. I’m worried about what I’ll say.
Worried that the moment I see her, all my rehearsed lines will vanish, and all I’ll be able to do is look at her like I used to. She was the only thing that ever made sense in my life.
I step up to the door, take a deep breath, and push it open.
The soft hum of hairdryers, the rhythmic snip of scissors, the chatter of the customers—it’s all so normal, so familiar, but there’s a hollow feeling that cuts through the noise. Something is missing.
And that something is her.
It’s like walking into a dream I’ve had a thousand times, only this time, she’s not there waiting for me.
I glance around quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of her somewhere, but the salon is quiet aside from the few stylists working. None of them are people I remember, and none of them areher.
A heavy sigh escapes me, but I force my chest to calm. Maybe she’s just out back. Maybe she’s taking a break.
Maybe the universe is just giving me a few more seconds to get it together before I fall apart at the sight of her.
I keep telling myself that, but a part of me feels like I’ve just walked into a place I don’t belong, a place I’m not welcome.
