Chapter 11
510 Words
For the first time in weeks, Fiona didn’t wake up to a text.
No “good morning, babe” from Jared.
No “just checking in” from Jason.
Just the hum of her phone as it lay still, untouched on her nightstand.
She stared at the ceiling, arms tucked under her head, letting the silence stretch around her like a blanket. It was strange—peaceful and lonely at the same time.
Maybe that’s what healing felt like. A kind of quiet that hurt before it helped.
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Fiona spent the morning doing everything slowly.
She made herself breakfast and actually sat down to eat. She watered the succulents on her windowsill. She even cleaned out the junk drawer—something she’d been “meaning to do” for two years.
By the time noon rolled around, her phone had only buzzed once.
A single message.
From an unknown number.
> Hey. You probably don’t remember me, but we had Lit together in first year. I saw your name pop up on my recommended reads list. You okay? — Liam.
She stared at the screen, confused for a moment.
Liam. Quiet, funny Liam who used to pass her doodles of dragons in the margins of his notebook during boring lectures. They’d talked a bit—mostly about books and how awful group work was. Then life got busy, and he just… faded into the background.
Fiona smiled.
> Fiona: Liam? Of course I remember you. And yeah… I’m okay. Just figuring things out.
> Liam: I get that. Want to catch up? I promise no dragons this time.
> Fiona: That’s a shame. I kinda liked the dragons.
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They met at the campus coffee shop that afternoon.
Fiona wore a hoodie and no makeup. She didn’t care. Liam didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he smiled at her like it was the best outfit she could’ve picked.
“Still writing?” he asked after a while, stirring his tea.
She shrugged. “A little. Not as much as I want to.”
“You should,” he said simply. “You always had that look—like you were carrying stories no one else had thought of yet.”
Fiona felt warmth bloom in her chest.
When was the last time someone saw her like that?
Not as Jason’s crush. Not as Jared’s girlfriend.
Just… Fiona. With her stories and her scars.
They talked for hours.
About nothing and everything.
He didn’t ask about the brothers.
And she didn’t offer.
It was the first conversation in a long time that didn’t feel like a performance.
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That night, she opened her journal again.
The same one she hadn’t touched since she and Jared first kissed.
She flipped past pages filled with Jason’s name. Past scribbled hearts and half-written poems.
She started fresh.
And she wrote:
> “I thought love was the moment someone chose you.
But maybe real love is when you choose yourself—
even if it means walking away.”
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- Writer
