I’m taken back to my senior year. Nearly a decade ago now. The day my mom got her cancer diagnosis, I thought that was it. Rock bottom. The lowest of lows. But grief’s got trapdoors you don’t see coming until the floor’s already given out beneath you.
Turns out, that day was just the beginning.
Everything that came after unraveled so fast. The appointments, the quiet looks from doctors who’d already made up their minds, the way Mom’s laugh got quieter while my fears got louder.
Helpless doesn’t even cover it. There’s nothing quite like watching someone you love fight a battle you both know they’re going to lose.
When it got too loud in my own head, I used to come to this clearing. I still do. It’s not much to look at. Just grass and trees and sky, but it’s mine.
Tucked deep in the hills, hidden behind a winding trail that snakes through trees older than god, it’s the one place nobody ever looks for me. Which is probably for the best, considering I’m completely unhinged right now.
At twenty-seven years old, I’m sitting here like some freshly dumped prom queen, still in my work dress and heels. Mascara is streaked down to my chin. My eyes are puffy. The very picture ofshe’s not doing well.
If anyone stumbled across me, I’m pretty sure they’d slowly back away. Maybe even whisper a little prayer for me on the way out.
Right now, with nothing but the hush of the wind throughthe trees and the low hum of cicadas settling into dusk, I don’t have to care. Here, in this quiet little nowhere, I can fall apart without having to explain myself to anyone.
I don’t doubt that James loved me once upon a time, but I’m realizing that he never really knew how to love someone who didn’t fit into the mold he was so comfortable with. Looking back, it’s clear. We were both clinging to the hope that the other would change, holding on to different versions of what we thought we could be. We were doomed from the start. We just hadn’t figured it out yet.
Or I guess,Ihadn’t figured it out.
We met during my senior year of college, when the only thing that existed was that weird, empty space after I lost my mom. I was barely human. Just…existing. Floating through my classes like a ghost in leggings and oversized hoodies, surviving on caffeine and autopilot.
And then there was him.
He had that kind of confidence that didn’t just turn heads but rearranged entire rooms. He was the sun and the rest of us were just caught in his orbit.
And yeah, I got pulled in. How could I not? That easy grin, his jet-black hair that always seemed perfectly, artfully tousled, and those warm brown eyes that made it dangerously easy to forget how broken I was. I didn’t have anything left to give, but I convinced myself that standing close enough to him would trick the universe into letting me borrow a little of his light.
It happened on a random Tuesday. On one of those blurry, gray afternoons not long after midterms when I was just trying to breathe without falling apart. He walked up to me, all charm and smirks, knowing exactly what kind of impression he was making.
“Are you a parking ticket?”he asked, his voice smooth,confident, and completely unbothered by how ridiculous he sounded.“Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”
I remember rolling my eyes, torn between secondhand embarrassment and the amusement I hadn’t felt in months. But I laughed.
God help me, I loved that line.
I fell hard. I let myself get caught up in the idea of us. I convinced myself that it was real. Thatwewere real.
two
JULIETTE
I’m still sitting in the grass when the faint sound of footsteps comes from behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. There’s only one person who always knows where to find me when I vanish. No matter how far I retreat, she finds me every single time.
Then again, I also sent a frantic text before I left work, unloading everything like she would have the power to fix it.
When I glance up, Bree’s stormy blue eyes are already on me. “Do you want me to give you some more time alone?”
There’s no judgment in her words, no pressure. Bree’s always known when to stay and when to give me space, when to let me have my silence and when to fill it. She doesn’t try to fix me, but somehow, being around her makes it easier to want better for myself. She offers soft words when the world is harsh and a shoulder that doesn’t flinch when I lean a little too hard.
She watches me, patient as ever, and gives me the space I need to decide. “No,” I say. “There’s nothing left for me to do here.”
She stands and extends a perfectly manicured hand,pulling me up with no hesitation. Bits of old leaves and soil fall away from my clothes.
“Where can I take you?” she asks. “Do you want to go home and grab some stuff?”
I huff out a bitter laugh. “You mean James’s house? No thanks. Anything I left there can stay.”
