Didn’t plan that either.
But there it is.
Forty-eight hours of non-stop writing.
No sleep.
Just words and rhythms.
And it’s mostly done.
Now I just have to put it together.
The car comes to a stop.
The driver steps out, moving to open the door.
Bella is gone before it’s fully open.
“Wow! Oh my God!” she yells, already halfway to the entrance.
I don’t move.
Not yet.
Hilary shifts beside me, like she’s about to follow.
I lift a hand.
“Hold up.”
She pauses.
Looks at me.
Really looks at me this time.
And everything in my chest tightens.
I step out first, the cool city air hitting me as I straighten.
Then I turn. And offer her my hand.
Simple. Nothing dramatic. But it feels like more.
A choice—that’s what I’m offering her.
She hesitates.
Just for a second.
And in that second, I wonder if I pushed too far.
If she’s going to pull away.
If she’s going to remind me again that I don’t belong in her world.
Then—she places her hand in mine.