STEPHANIE
....

The drive to Amber’s place feels like a confession waiting to happen. I’m gripping the steering wheel of my rental car harder than I should, my knuckles pale against the dark interior of the car.

This knot in my chest has taken root, and no matter how many deep breaths I take or how many times I try to brush it off, it refuses to loosen. Amber always said I overthink things. She’s probably right.

When I get to her apartment, she opens the door wearing her usual sweatpants and hoodie, her hair tied up in a loose bun.

“Didn’t expect you to drop by,” she says, stepping aside to let me in. “What’s up?”

I shrug, slipping off my shoes. “Just needed to talk.”

Her brows lift. “Serious talk or 'we’re ordering pizza and watching bad Hallmark movie' talk?”

“Serious.”

Amber sighs, motioning for me to follow her into the kitchen. “Alright, spill. You look like you’re about to burst.”

I sit at the counter, watching as she rummages through the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. Amber doesn’t ask questions immediately; she waits, giving me time to find the words.

“It’s Mel,” I start, tracing the edge of the countertop with my finger. “She’s… amazing. She’s doing great. She’s healed, you know? Better than I ever thought she would be so soon.”

Amber pours two glasses of wine and sets one in front of me. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“It’s not bad,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “It’s just… now that she’s better, she doesn’t need me anymore. She’s been talking about going back home, and I know that’s what she wants, but it feels like the second she walks out that door, it’s over. Like none of this—us—was ever going to last.”

This is the first time I've ever dared to label us. Our thing. I never asked her out we just clicked and in my head that automatically transformed to her being someone special to me.

Amber sits across from me, her expression softer than usual.

“Steph, have you talked to her about this? Like really talked? Or are you just assuming what she’s thinking?”

I hesitate, and Amber gives me a pointed look. She knows.

“You haven’t, have you?” she says, exasperated. “Steph, you’re doing that thing again where you build up this whole story in your head without actually talking to the other person involved. You’re projecting.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” she cuts in. “And it’s not fair to her. Or to you.”

I sigh, taking a sip of wine. “It’s not that easy, Amber. What if I bring it up and it makes things worse? What if it pushes her away?”

“What if it doesn’t?” she counters. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. But avoiding the conversation isn’t going to make the fear go away. If anything, it’s just going to make things harder when she does leave because you’ll have all this unresolved crap between you two.”

I stare at the wineglass in my hands, the weight of her words settling over me.

“Just talk to her,” Amber says gently. “You might find that there’s a solution you haven’t even considered yet. But you won’t know until you try.”

***

That night, I sit on the couch in my apartment, waiting for Mel to show up. I’ve gone over what I want to say a hundred times in my head, but every time I think I’ve got it figured out, the words slip away like sand through my fingers.

When she walks through the door, she’s carrying two takeout bags and a smile that lights up the entire room.

“Thought I’d grab dinner,” she says, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. “Jeremiah’s probably at Diane's eating popcorn and orange juice, so I figured I’d sneak out and save us both.”

I laugh, but it feels forced. She doesn’t seem to notice as she starts unpacking the food.

As we eat, the usual ease between us feels strained—at least for me. Mel is as lively as ever, chatting about her day and laughing at her own stories. I try to join in, but my mind keeps drifting back to Amber’s advice.

Finally, when we’re both curled up on the couch, I decide to go for it.

“Mel,” I start, my voice hesitant.

She turns to me, her expression curious. “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Her smile falters, and I see the way her body tenses. “About what?”

“About… us. About what happens next.”

She pulls away slightly, shaking her head. “Steph, can we not do this tonight? Please? I just want to enjoy this—enjoy us—without overthinking everything.”

“But—”

“Please,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “Can’t we just stay in our bubble a little longer?”

The pleading look in her eyes is enough to make me back down. I nod, even though my chest feels heavier than before.

“Okay,” I say quietly. “We’ll leave it.”

She leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple, and I force myself to relax, to push the conversation out of my mind.

The next morning, I’m up before the sun. I leave a note on the side table, the words carefully chosen:

Morning, beautiful. Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you later. Have a good day.

I linger for a moment, watching her sleep, her hair a messy halo around her face. It takes everything in me to walk out that door.

At work, I throw myself into my tasks, determined to keep my mind busy. But by noon, I’ve run out of things to do. I sit at my desk, staring at the clock, the silence in the clinic pressing down on me.

When my phone buzzes with a text from an old friend inviting me out for drinks, I don’t hesitate to say yes. Anything to keep my mind off Mel.

By the time I get to the bar, the place is already buzzing with energy. My friend, Carly, waves me over to a table near the back, a bright smile on her face.

“Steph! Long time no see!” she says, pulling me into a hug.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I say, smiling despite myself.

We order drinks, and Carly launches into stories about her latest adventures, her energy infectious. For a while, I let myself get lost in the conversation, in the laughter and the noise of the bar.

But no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep drifting back to Mel. To the conversation we didn’t have. To the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes last night.

Carly notices me zoning out and nudges me gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically.

She gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t push.

I order us more drinks and we click glasses, but I know I can’t avoid this forever. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face it—face her.

But tonight, I let myself exist in the distraction, even if it’s only temporary.