THE YEAR WE FELL APART

CHAPTER ONE ZOEY POV Grief messes with you. Not just in your head. In your body. You forget how to breathe right. Your heart skips at the smallest things—a song, a street name, a scent. One second you're fine, the next, you're sinking. I thought I was done sinking. But the moment I saw Ryan Carter standing outside Room 108, all the air in my chest vanished. He looked... the same. And not. Taller maybe. Shoulders broader. Hair longer, a little messier. But those eyes? Still that stormy gray I used to write poems about. Still the eyes I saw in dreams I hated waking up from. I stopped in my tracks. So did he. “Zoey,” he said, like he wasn’t sure I was real. I didn’t answer. My throat wasn’t working right. He stepped forward. “You’re back?” I nodded. “Guess so.” He looked me up and down. “New school. New hair.” “You grew yours,” I said, trying to sound like I had it together. He smiled a little. Just for a second. “Didn’t expect to see you again.” “Yeah. Same.” Silence stretched between us. Not the good kind. Not the comfortable, quiet kind we used to have at 2 a.m., lying on his roof, staring at stars. This was the heavy kind. The too-much-left-unsaid kind. “I heard about your mom,” he said softly. I looked away. “Yeah. It was... a lot.” He nodded slowly. “You should’ve told me.” “I didn’t know how.” “You just disappeared, Zoey. One minute we were everything. Next minute, nothing.” “I couldn’t keep holding everything together,” I whispered. “Not when it felt like I was falling apart every day.” He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me like he wanted to believe me. But didn’t know if he could. Then he pulled something from his back pocket. A folded piece of paper. I knew what it was before he even opened it. My letter. “Where’d you get that?” I asked, my voice low. “Found it in the old art room. Tucked in one of the portfolios.” My legs felt shaky. “You read it?” He unfolded it. Didn’t even answer me. Just started reading, quiet at first. “I lied when I said I didn’t love you anymore…” His voice trailed off. I wanted to disappear. “That wasn’t meant for you,” I said. “But it’s about me. Isn’t it?” I didn’t answer. “I waited, Zo. For weeks. Then months. I would’ve waited longer if I knew there was still a chance.” “I thought I was doing the right thing,” I said. “Letting you go so you didn’t get stuck with the version of me that couldn’t stop breaking.” “You think I wouldn’t have stayed?” “I think you were already grieving. I didn’t want to be another weight on your chest.” He shook his head. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” More silence. Then he asked the question I’d prayed he wouldn’t. “Was it true? About the pregnancy?” Everything inside me stopped. I nodded. His whole body shifted—like the ground tilted underneath him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “It was early,” I whispered. “Seven weeks. I only found out after we broke up. Then… it was gone.” I expected him to yell. Cry. Something. But he just looked tired. So tired. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.” “I know.” I wanted to hug him. Apologize. Tell him I thought of him every day, that I still dreamed of the life we almost had. But then—buzz—my phone vibrated. Unknown number. I checked the message. I know what you did. Meet me at the train tracks tonight. Come alone. Or Ryan finds out everything. My heart dropped. Because this wasn’t about the letter. This was about the other secret. The one I swore would never come out.