I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, twisting my hands together while Mia watches me from across the room.

She's sprawled out in my desk chair, giving me that sympathetic-but-also-slightly-annoyed look that only a best friend can get away with.

The air feels heavy with words I haven't said, and emotions I'm not sure I want to process.

"So...she apologized?" Mia asks, her voice carefully neutral. "And you're still stuck on what to do?"

I nod, biting my lip. "Yeah. She showed up at my door yesterday morning, just... standing there with flowers and chocolate like that would make everything okay." I scoff, but even to my ears, the sound is weak. "I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?"

Mia shrugs, her gaze steady. "I guess it depends. Did she seem genuine?"

"She did," I admit, almost reluctantly. "It wasn't just the flowers. She actually looked like she felt horrible. Said she never meant to hurt me, that she was stupid." I feel my throat tighten. "But it doesn't change what she did, you know?"

Mia leans forward, studying me. "And you're still feeling something for her, even after all that?"

My cheeks heat up, but I don't deny it.

"I thought I could just shut it off. I mean, I tried. Every time I see her face in my mind, I remind myself why this whole thing happened in the first place. That it started as a dare. But then, how she looked at me. Like I mattered."

Mia sighs, tapping her fingers against the edge of the desk.

"Look, Luna, it's normal to feel confused. She obviously had some kind of impact on you, or you wouldn't be sitting here talking about this. But you don't have to make a decision right this second."

"I know," I say, rubbing my thumb along the edge of my jeans. "But it feels like I do. I hate feeling like I'm in limbo, like I'm waiting for something that might not even be real. I mean can I trust her? Really?"

Mia leans back, crossing her arms.

"Only you can answer that. But here's what I think." She pauses, making sure she has my attention.

"People make mistakes. Some are huge, and some hurt like hell. But if you really believe she's sorry, and if you think she's willing to prove that this wasn't just a game... then maybe it's worth giving her a second chance at this."

I stare at her, torn between relief and doubt. How dare she? She is supposed to be pulling me to the 'move on' side and not encouraging me to consider second chances.

"And if it happens again? What if I get hurt all over again?"

Mia's eyes soften, and she gives me a small smile.

"That's the risk with anyone, Luna. Relationships aren't safe. But you're the one who has to decide if it's really worth it."

I nod, thinking about what she's saying, but the ache in my chest doesn't go away.

I'd been so sure that I could forget her, bury myself in school and the competition and let the pain fade with time.

My contest is in two weeks; I should be focusing on that, pouring everything into it. But every time I pick up my camera, I see her along with all the moments we shared.

"I'm not ready," I say finally. "I'm not ready to forgive her."

Mia nods slowly, as if she's been expecting this.

"Then focus on what you can control. This contest means everything to you. You've been working on this for months, right? Maybe channeling all of this into that is exactly what you need."

I look around my room, at the photos pinned up on the walls, each one a moment I captured, a piece of myself I poured into the frame. Some are for the year book while others are just for me.

Photography has always been my escape, my way of dealing with the messier parts of life. And right now, it's the only thing that makes any sense.

"Yeah," I murmur to myself.

Mia gives me a reassuring smile. "You're strong, Luna. Don't let anyone make you feel any less Especially not her."

Her words offer comfort against the storm still raging in my heart. I know that keeping my distance is the right thing, the safe thing.

But a part of me still burns with longing, wondering if there's a version of this story where we both come out okay.

That night, after Mia leaves, I find myself in my little home studio. I set up my camera and start working, losing myself in the process. My hands move automatically, adjusting settings, framing shots, capturing the raw emotions swirling inside me.

I feel the pain start to melt away, just a little. The lens becomes a barrier between me and the world, a safe distance from everything I can't control.

Like it has always been before letting my guard down.

I snap photo after photo, but no matter how many photos I take, I can't quite push her out of my mind. She lingers there, in the back of my thoughts, her face haunting me.

I pick up one of the prints, holding it up to the light. A shot of a shadow cast across an empty street, lonely like it's waiting for something-or someone-to fill the empty space.

I stare at it, wondering if that's what I'm doing too. Waiting. Hoping that maybe, someday, this ache will fade.

But I know better than to pin my hopes on "someday." Right now, all I have is now, this contest.

When I finally put down the camera, I'm exhausted, but calm.

I know it's going to take time to move past this. But for now, my camera is enough to keep me grounded and focused on what I need to do.

As I head to bed, I realize that I can let myself feel both things at once-the hurt and the hope.

Because in the end, I don't have to have all the answers. I just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time, even if that means leaving her behind.