If there was one good thing about being as emotionally drained as Cora was, it was that she didn't spend the entire motorcycle ride screaming in Farron's ear. It was a good thing for Farron, at least; Cora supposed she could've used the chance to vent her pent-up emotions. But she was too exhausted to even do that, only having enough energy to wrap her arms around Farron's waist and hold on tight as the world rushed by around them.

Cora wasn't sure how long it was until they stopped, and even then, she had figured they were waiting at an extra long stoplight until Farron shifted under her arms.

"Cora?" she whispered, her helmet tapping Cora's when she turned. "We're here."

It still took Cora a few seconds to recognize that "here" was Farron's apartment building. A part of her wished she could be at her own place instead, where she could lock herself in her apartment for a few days and cry herself to sleep. At the same time, she didn't think she could stand the sight of her shabby living conditions and pile of unpaid bills just then. Plus, she wasn't picky about where she cried herself to sleep, just as long as it was done.

It was a strenuous journey up to Farron's floor, even with the support of the elevator and Farron's hand wrapped around her own. Throughout the trek, Cora could only imagine being in the safety of Farron's apartment, letting herself fall apart in a heap on the ground.

But when they were finally inside and the lock clicked behind her, all Cora could do was stare at the living room before her, her emotions nowhere to be found.

Farron's hand squeezed her shoulder before sliding down to rub small circles on her back. "Did you want to sit down? I'll make you something to eat."

While Cora wasn't hungry, the couch was looking pretty cozy—that, and she didn't think collapsing in the middle of the entryway would be very convenient if Farron had to go somewhere. So after a slow nod, Cora trudged towards the sofa, only pausing when she found it already occupied.

Augustus the Third didn't stir the slightest when Cora approached, nor when she squeezed herself on the sliver of open cushion beside him. Before Cora could worry that another thing would go wrong that day, the tabby let out a soft chirp when Cora rubbed behind his ears, and Cora continued her ministrations, focusing on the comforting rumble of his soft purrs. It wasn't the sleep-inducing sobbing she was hoping for, nor was it screaming herself hoarse into the void, but it was a close runner-up.

At some point, she must've fallen asleep, because the next thing she remembered was opening her eyes to find Farron draping a blanket over her shoulders.

"Sorry," Farron whispered with a wince, dropping the blanket as if it burned her. "I just...wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

Cora hurriedly pushed herself upright as she blinked her dry, heavy eyes. "Thanks. Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Don't be," Farron said, propping herself on the edge of the cushion in front of Augustus and ignoring his grumpy meow. "You were tired."

As Farron reached for a dish on the coffee table, Cora let her expression fall with her spirits. Farron may have had no problem making excuses for her, but Cora knew she hadn't done anything that day—nothing of value, at least.

"I made some fried rice," Farron said, holding out a bowl to Cora. "It's nothing special, just some ingredients I had leftover from breakfast, but I hope it's still good."

Their breakfast. It felt like ages since they were last in Farron's apartment for that meal, and Farron had to leave for the emergency at Fruitastic. Cora hadn't realized it at the time, but that had been their last peaceful moment together, just before everything came crashing down around them.

"Cora?" Farron whispered, her voice wavering. "Could you eat a little, at least? Just a bite? You haven't had anything since this morning."

At the sight of Farron's watering eyes, Cora felt her chest hollow even more. What had she done to deserve Farron's sympathy? If anything, it was Farron that had gone through an ordeal. It was Farron that deserved to be comforted after the trials she endured the entire day. And not only was Cora useless in providing support, but she was partially to blame for Farron's hardships.

She had been careless enough to use their own resources, putting Fruitastic's precious ingredients in the middle of Darlene's wrath. She made Farron leave work early, in the middle of such a stressful day too. She caused Farron to panic, running around town looking for her. She had been lying to her—or at least withholding the truth—ever since they met. If anyone needed to apologize, it was—

"I'm sorry," Farron said, her gaze fixed on the bowl in her lap. "I shouldn't have made you stick your neck out for me like that. It was my problem, and I should've handled it on my own. I should've been able to handle it."

As tears began to well in Farron's eyes, Cora's heart ached. She wanted to reach out to Farron, to hug her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay...but what good was Cora's word? Not only that, but after everything she did, what gave her the right to do any of those things?

"You didn't do anything wrong," Cora said, hoping Farron would believe her words alone. "It was my choice."

Farron nodded, sending a tear trickling down one of her cheeks. "I know, and I'm so grateful for that. You didn't have to do any of that, and not only did you help me, but you were amazing at it. But..." She then took a deep breath, then turned to Cora. "I know how much you care about that job, and if it wasn't for me..."

"She would've found a reason to get rid of me eventually," Cora said as quickly as she could, hoping to—needing to lift Farron's spirits. "At least from this, Kevin found out what she's really been doing this whole time."

Even though Farron nodded, she didn't seem convinced as her gaze fell between them. As undeserving as Cora felt, she held out a hand, and when Farron's fingers immediately wrapped around hers, Cora knew what she had to do. After everything Farron had done for her, not just that day but all the ones before, it was the bare minimum Cora could offer her.

"I have to tell you something," Cora said, her mouth already feeling dry over her impending confession.

Farron's gaze lifted, but her hand remained steady on Cora's—for now.

"Earlier today, in that fancy neighborhood...the house I was looking at..." Cora took a deep, shuddering breath. "That's where I grew up."

Cora paused. Farron remained silent and still.

"And the people in the driveway..." Cora blinked away the tears that began to pool in her eyes over the memory: her mom's turned back, her dad's slow shake of his head. "Those are my parents. It was the first time I've seen them in...eight years." She forced out a short laugh, but the sound caught in her throat. "I don't even know why I went there—what I expected to happen."

Why had she gone there anyway? Nothing had changed, she hadn't changed, so why did she think they would be any different? It was naive hope, a childish dream, and she should've known better.

"What happened?" Farron whispered, her hand steady against Cora's. "Before?"

Cora hesitated, afraid to say the truth herself. "I let them down. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough for them, just like I wasn't good enough for you."

When Cora's shaking voice was trapped behind her tears, Farron scrambled to set aside the bowl on her lap before shifting closer, squeezing Cora's fingers with one hand and her shoulder with the other. "Cora, that's not true. That's not true at all. Look, I don't know what happened in the past, but now, you've done so much. You're more than good enough—you're amazing."

While Cora didn't deny it, she couldn't accept it either. Maybe Farron did have a point. Maybe Cora did enough—for now. But how long would that last?

"That's what I was told before," Cora said, her gaze drifting down to where Farron's hand wrapped around her own. "That I was amazing. That I was 'gifted,' 'bright beyond my years,' 'going places.'" Again, she tried to laugh. It didn't work. "Guess I did go some place, just not very far."

She sighed. Being cryptic wasn't going to help anyone, but the truth refused to leave her, fighting to remain hidden. Despite that, Farron stayed by her side, holding her hand and gently squeezing her shoulder. An explanation was the least she deserved.

Cora tightened her grip on Farron's fingers, both to give her strength and to keep Farron's touch in her memory, just in case it would be the last time.

"The furthest I got was college, sophomore year, at one of the best schools in the country—and one of the most expensive. I was studying..." Cora laughed self-deprecatingly, her gaze still focused on their intertwined hands, "biomedical engineering. On the pre-med track. With a minor in business administration. Can you believe that? Me?"

If Farron could or couldn't believe it, she didn't say so, and Cora didn't press her. Instead, Cora fell silent, feeling the emotions from her memories build up like water in a sinking ship—and she wasn't sure she could swim.

"I hated bio," Cora hissed, the truth spilling out from between her gritted teeth. "I hated science. I hated numbers." She took a deep breath, reeling herself back to composure. "But I could do it. With enough time, with enough studying, I was just as good as anyone in my classes, maybe even better. In my freshman year, I was killing it. I was setting the curve, my classmates were hating me, I was doing everything I needed to do."

She remembered that excitement, her thrill over her success. The summer after had been her best ever, even with the calculus and economics courses she had to take to graduate early. Or maybe it had been like any other vacation, and it only became a dream once it fell out of reach.

At the realization, Cora's spirits fell as well. "And then sophomore year came...and I just didn't. I just...stopped. And I don't know why."

She didn't know why, but she remembered the feeling. She remembered hearing her alarm go off at five in the morning, only to sleep in and miss her morning classes. She remembered hunkering down in the library and refusing to leave until she finished her assignments, then spending the time crying over her textbooks. She remembered only stepping into the dining hall to get a banana or apple for lunch, not wanting to be surrounded by the chaotic conversation within. She remembered staring at her blank midterm, worth twenty-five percent of her grade, for the full hour and a half and doing none of it.

She remembered her trip to the dean's office. She remembered seeing her parents there, already waiting for her. She remembered their cold, disappointed stares as if she had just seen them—maybe because she had, no more than an hour ago as they watched her from their driveway.

"My parents...weren't happy." That was an understatement. Cora could still hear the yelling echoing in her ears, the reverberations rattling her skull. "They said...they couldn't support me anymore. That there was no point in wasting their money on me. That I...I wasn't a worthy investment."

After her last words left her lips, barely discernible with her wavering voice, Cora paused to take a shuddering breath. She didn't expect tears to fill her eyes too, refusing to stop. It wasn't long before they overflowed and streamed down her cheeks, and Cora buried her head even more, succumbing to the shame that burdened her shoulders.

Suddenly, a small weight pressed against one of her thighs, then her other. Through her tears, she saw a dark brown blur moving onto her lap, and it wasn't long before the points of pressure became one large one as Augustus plopped himself onto her legs. The sudden and unexpected comfort was enough to startle a small laugh from Cora, and she gratefully petted his head with her free hand.

"Thanks, Augustus," she mumbled, exhaustion washing over her as his soft purrs echoed through her.

She had never told anyone what had happened—how could she? She had been left with no one to tell. While her failures occurred nearly a decade ago, the memories haunted her every day since, weighing her down little by little. Her admission took some of the pressure off, but perhaps that was what had been keeping her grounded, like a sheet of paper on a windy day. Now, with her secrets out in the open, she was being carried away by the storm in her mind.

So it was a relief when Farron moved next to her, taking the tabby's former spot. Her sturdy presence was exactly what Cora needed, and Cora didn't hesitate to rest her head against Farron's shoulder, pressing herself even closer when Farron's arm wrapped around her. And it was that comfort that gave Cora enough courage to continue.

"They kicked me out the next morning," she whispered, too scared to say the words any louder. "They gave me a couple hundred dollars and whatever I could fit in a suitcase, saying that it was considered charity. A donation. Goodwill. They even offered me a ride to a shelter with the promise that I would never associate myself with them again, not unless I 'decided to quit slacking off' and make a name for myself on my own. And I took the deal."

She remembered thinking it was all a bad dream, that they were only trying to scare her into action. But as she waited outside the shelter with her suitcase at her feet, staring at the street where their car disappeared, her worry grew while her hope faded.

The moments after that had been a disoriented blur. She remembered dragging her bag into the shelter in a daze, barely hanging on, but as soon as a worker approached her and asked her a question... Well, if she hadn't known what a panic attack was by then, that had definitely done the trick.

"I thought..." Cora continued, trying to escape the terror of her memory, "all I needed was some time to refocus, to get my head on right again. I thought I could get a minimum-wage job, save enough money, go to a community college, and work my way up to where I'm expected to be."

She let out a long exhale. When she inhaled, she focused on the smell of Farron's vanilla shampoo and nature-fresh laundry detergent. "I never thought that eight years later...I would still be stuck on that first step. That nothing would've changed—that I haven't changed."

For years, that had been one of her greatest fears. That she was still lazy, a slacker, a good-for-nothing freeloader, and even uttering the words would cause her to spiral. But just then, after saying them to Farron, after everything she admitted, she felt...nothing. Whether that was numbness or acceptance, though, Cora wasn't sure. But when Farron's arm around her shoulders pulled her closer, Cora was happy to follow, taking comfort in Farron's steady presence at her side.

"Whether or not you've changed...I can't tell you that," Farron said, her husky tenor soothing Cora's pounding pulse. "I wish I could, but I don't know who you were before." She shifted to press a kiss against Cora's hair. "But I know who you are now. And I know that you are the hardest working person I know. You've probably always been that person."

As much as Cora wanted to believe her, she wasn't sure she could. She couldn't even bring herself to nod in agreement, not when she felt like doing so would be a lie.

"What happened in your sophomore year..." Farron continued, as if she could sense Cora's doubt. "That wasn't your fault. I don't care what your shitty parents say, that wasn't your fault at all, and you are not a failure. You were stressed and exhausted and burnt out. They should've gotten you help or let you take a break, not throw you out on the streets—not abandon you."

A part of Cora knew Farron was right, that what her parents had done was cruel and unnecessary. Still, when she thought about how much they had done for her before that moment, she couldn't blame them for being upset. She couldn't blame them for giving up on her.

"You're not a failure, Cora," Farron said, holding Cora even tighter. "You dropped out, sure, but you're still here. You're still trying, and hell, you are trying hard. You haven't failed yet. Besides, who needs your parents' shitty goals anyway? You're your own person, not their investment or whatever. You get to decide what you want to do with your life. You get to decide if you've failed. Not your parents, not your shitty manager, not even me. Only you can decide your path."

Her path... Cora wasn't even sure what that was anymore. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do for her education or for her career, she wasn't sure if she wanted a family or where she wanted to retire. For the last few years, all she had been thinking about was what her parents wanted. Never had she given herself the chance to decide what she wanted. Never, except for one occasion: Farron.

When Cora turned to Farron, Farron stared at her with a moment of confusion before revealing her soft smile. As soon as the sight filled Cora's chest with warmth, she knew the truth: she didn't want the path her parents set for her, and she never did. Because nothing in her life had ever filled her with pride in the way that a single look at Farron would do in an instant. And now, it was time for a change.

Maybe Cora did slack off before—but maybe she didn't. Maybe she could've tried harder, or maybe she had always done the best she could. Whatever the truth was, she couldn't change the past. All she could do now was forge her future. And maybe the fact that she came to that conclusion proved that her worst fears were wrong. She had changed, just not in the way she expected.

The realization shocked a smile from her. In turn, Farron's smile vanished, replaced by concern.

"Uh...are you okay?" Farron asked, her arm tensing around Cora's shoulders.

It took Cora a moment to remember Farron hadn't witnessed Cora's internal epiphany, and her sudden mood switch was probably a reasonable thing to be worried about otherwise.

"Oh! Yeah," Cora said, nodding quickly. "I just thought of something, and now I'm good. Totally cool. Cool...well, probably not beans anymore, but cool..." She paused. "I may need to think of another phrase."

Farron chuckled, placing another gentle kiss atop Cora's hair. "Then I'll help you. I'll help you with a new catchphrase, with a new job, whatever you need. I'll be there."

When Farron pulled her in for a hug, Cora eagerly accepted, soaking in the warmth of Farron's touch and basking in the joy that filled the previously vacant void in her chest.

If that moment was the first on her new path, Cora couldn't wait to see what else was in store.