Chapter 2: "Who's Crying Now"
Lucas Encounters a Reminder of Jessica
The city buzzes around me, the sound of traffic, footsteps, and distant conversations blending into a steady hum. I walk fast, weaving through the crowd, my thoughts tangled in the project, the deadlines, the constant pressure. My feet move on autopilot, leading me toward the café a few blocks away. It’s just supposed to be a quick break, but the weight on my shoulders feels heavier than usual today.
The autumn air has a bite to it, a chill that’s crept in overnight, signaling the slow march toward winter. I pull my jacket tighter around me, trying to shake off the cold, but something else clings to me—something heavier than the crisp breeze. I keep walking, head down, the street ahead blurring into a mess of faces and moving cars.
Then I see her.
My heart stutters, skipping a beat before racing forward. Across the street, in front of a café, a woman stands, her back to me. Her hair, that familiar shade of dark chestnut, catches in the wind, and for a split second, it’s like I’m frozen in place. Jessica.
I stop, the crowd flowing around me, but I barely notice them. It’s like the air’s been sucked out of the world, and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart. She’s standing just out of reach, just across the street, and I feel myself pulled toward her, the way I always was. There’s that ache again, that hope, even though I know better. Even though I should know better.
Do I cross the street? Just to see if it’s really her? What would I even say if it was? I tell myself it’s stupid, that I should keep walking, but my feet won’t move. The memories start flooding back, uninvited—the nights we stayed up late talking about our future, the plans we made, the way she’d smile when I talked about my work like it was the most important thing in the world. The way everything fell apart, too.
I swallow hard, my eyes glued to her. I could go over there. I could say something, see if there’s still... something. But no. I can’t. Not after everything. I’ve got work to do. Deadlines. The community center. That’s what matters now, right?
But what if it’s her? What if—?
The woman turns, and my chest tightens, only to release all at once when I see her face. It’s not Jessica. Of course it’s not. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling equal parts relieved and... disappointed? I don’t know. There’s a hollowness that settles in, a reminder of everything I thought I’d buried. I turn away, shaking my head, trying to brush it off.
Get a grip, Lucas. It wasn’t even her.
But the damage is already done. My mind is spinning, dredging up thoughts of her—of what we had, what we lost. I keep walking, faster now, but the tension stays. I catch my reflection in the glass storefronts as I pass by, and I barely recognize the person staring back. The weight of the project, the pressure, the loneliness—it’s all there, etched into my face.
I reach the café, pushing through the door, the smell of coffee hitting me in a rush. I stand in line, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Have I really moved on? Or am I just pretending, throwing myself into work because it’s easier than facing what’s still buried deep inside?
The barista calls out my order, and I take the coffee without a word, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The city keeps moving around me, oblivious. But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to break, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
Mia Reflects on Mark
The soft glow of the lamp bathes the living room in a warm, golden light. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, sinking deeper into the couch, a cup of tea warming my hands. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air from the candle flickering on the table, mixing with the cool breeze coming through the open window. The curtains flutter gently, and for a moment, everything feels still.
The music playing softly in the background stirs something in me. It’s not a song I recognize, not exactly, but the melody carries me back to a place I haven’t visited in a long time. Before I realize it, my thoughts are drifting... to him. To Mark. I take a slow sip of my tea, the heat grounding me, but it doesn’t stop the memories from creeping in.
I haven’t thought about Mark in months. Or maybe I have, and I just haven’t let myself feel it. Funny how you can tuck things away so neatly, like stuffing clothes into a drawer and pretending they don’t exist.
We had good times—at least, that’s what I tell myself when I think back. Dinners that stretched late into the night, spontaneous road trips where we laughed until our sides ached. The way he’d make me feel like the only person in the room when his attention was on me. But it’s the red flags I see more clearly now, the ones I tried so hard to ignore. The lies he told, the subtle ways he chipped away at my trust long before the infidelity.
The final blow came so suddenly. I still remember the way my stomach twisted when I found out. The messages, the excuses that didn’t quite add up. And then, the truth, hitting me like a freight train. It broke something in me that day—something I haven’t quite been able to fix.
I set the cup down on the coffee table, my eyes drifting to the small shelf across the room. There it is, the little box I haven’t touched in ages. It sits there, quiet, almost unassuming. But I know what’s inside. I stand up slowly, drawn to it like I’m not entirely in control. My fingers brush against the lid as I pull it down, the cool wood smooth beneath my touch. I hesitate, my heart beating a little faster, before I open it.
Inside is the photograph. And the necklace. The tiny pendant he gave me, the one that was supposed to mean something. I pick it up, holding it between my fingers, the weight of it feeling so much heavier now than it did back then. A flood of emotions hits me—grief, anger, maybe even a little sadness for the girl who wore it, the one who believed in promises that were never meant to last.
I snap the box shut. I don’t need this. Not anymore.
I place the box back on the shelf, out of sight, out of mind. The past is there, but it doesn’t own me. Not anymore. I can feel the pull of those memories, but I won’t let them drag me down. I can’t. I’ve come too far to go back now.
Sitting back down on the couch, I pick up my tea again, staring out the window as the city hums quietly outside. The cool breeze brushes against my skin, but inside, I feel warm. I’m still here. And that’s what matters.
Mark is my past. But I’m still figuring out my future. And I won’t let him define it.
With a deep breath, I let the thoughts of him fade, pushing them away just like I did with that box. It’s time to move forward. And for the first time in a while, I believe I can.
Lucas in His Office - Push-and-Pull Dynamic
The light pours through the windows, bright and indifferent, but it doesn’t touch me. It bounces off the white walls, glancing over the clutter on my desk, but it does nothing to break the weight pressing down on my chest. I sit there, staring at the half-finished blueprint in front of me, the lines rigid, lifeless. Just like every other attempt I’ve made since this morning.
I can’t focus. I keep seeing her.
The woman on the street. The way her hair caught in the breeze, the way my heart raced for that split second, thinking it might be Jessica. I can’t get it out of my head.
I drop the pencil and lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face. I shouldn’t be thinking about her. I know I shouldn’t. But I am. She’s there, in the corners of my mind, the memories creeping in like a slow drip I can’t turn off. I could call her. Just to check in. Just to see how she’s doing. It wouldn’t hurt, right?
But no. That’s a lie, and I know it. Reaching out now would undo everything. The space I’ve carved out for myself, the distance I’ve worked so hard to keep. It would open up a door that’s better left closed. She’s moved on. I need to move on. I should be focused on this project, on this deadline, but instead, I’m stuck here, torn between the past and the present.
I glance at my phone sitting on the desk, the screen dark and silent. One call. What would it change? Maybe it’d give me the closure I never got. Maybe it would help. Maybe it would—
No. I slam my hand down on the desk, harder than I meant to, and the pencil rolls off, clattering to the floor. I bend to pick it up, but when I straighten, I can feel the tension coiling in my chest, tightening around my lungs.
I look down at the sketch in front of me, the lines jagged and unnatural. This isn’t right. Nothing about this is right. I grab the paper, crumpling it into a ball, and toss it into the pile of failed attempts growing beside my desk. Another one down. Another failure.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I run my hand through my hair, glancing at the calendar on my computer. The deadline stares back at me, bold and unforgiving. Two weeks. I’ve got two weeks to pull something together, and I’m wasting time thinking about someone who’s not even part of my life anymore. I can’t afford this. I can’t let my personal life interfere with everything I’ve worked for.
But no matter how much I try to push it away, it keeps coming back. The what-ifs, the almosts, the ache I’ve been ignoring for months. I clench my jaw and force myself to pick up the pencil again, staring at the blank sheet in front of me.
I need to get this done. I have to get this done.
But the lines don’t come. And neither do the ideas.
The only thing that comes is her face, hovering at the edges of my thoughts, pulling me back to a place I don’t want to go.
I look out the window, but the view, like everything else, feels distant.
Natalie Receives a Note from Her Secret Admirer
The office is a whirlwind of color and life, every surface covered with swatches of fabric, floral arrangements, and event mock-ups. It’s chaos to most people, but to me, it’s home. The faint scent of fresh roses lingers in the air, blending with the light streaming through the large windows. I move around the room, balancing a clipboard in one hand and my phone in the other, juggling vendor calls and emails without missing a beat.
“Tell them the centerpieces need to be delivered before noon, not after,” I say into the phone, nodding to myself as I scribble something onto the clipboard. “No exceptions, okay? Great, thanks.”
As soon as I hang up, I’m immediately back into the details of the upcoming wedding. It’s only a few days away, and every last thing has to be perfect. There’s no room for error.
“Natalie,” my assistant, Jenny, calls from the doorway, holding a small envelope. “This just came for you.”
I glance up, distracted. “From who?”
She shrugs, grinning. “No return address. Looks mysterious.”
I take the envelope from her, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It’s small, plain, and somehow... personal. I tear it open and pull out a simple handwritten note. The penmanship is neat, careful.
Dear Natalie,
The event you planned last week was truly beautiful. Your attention to detail and creativity didn’t go unnoticed. Thank you for making it a night to remember.
—A.
I stare at it for a second, blinking. There’s no name, just the initial, but the compliment makes me smile. Whoever it was, they certainly know how to make an impression.
“Looks like someone’s got a secret admirer,” Jenny says, her voice lilting with teasing amusement. She leans in closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the note.
I laugh, rolling my eyes, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in my chest. “Oh, please. It’s probably just a thank-you from a client.” I tuck the note into my drawer, trying not to let it linger in my mind for too long. “Back to work, Jenny. No time for mysteries when there’s a wedding to perfect.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, her grin widening. “Sure, it’s just a thank-you. You’ll let me know if ‘A’ sends flowers next, right?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I say, laughing as I turn my attention back to the contract on my desk. But even as I dive back into work, the note stays with me—a pleasant little mystery tucked in the corner of my thoughts. Who could it be? I shake my head, reminding myself that I’ve got bigger things to focus on.
Still, as I run through the final details for the wedding, I can’t help but wonder. Who is A?
\ Light-Hearted Conversation Between Ollie and Natalie
The smell of coffee wraps around me like a warm blanket as I step into the shop, instantly feeling the familiar comfort of the place. I spot Ollie near the window, already seated with two steaming mugs on the table. His grin widens when he sees me, and I slide into the seat across from him, letting out a contented sigh.
"Please tell me this coffee is strong enough to carry me through the rest of my day," I say, reaching for the cup. The first sip is perfect, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders start to melt away.
“You look like you’ve been through it,” Ollie chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Another day in wedding hell?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I say, rolling my eyes. “This one bride... absolute nightmare. I mean, bridezilla doesn’t even cover it. She wanted gold peacocks at the reception. Real ones. Can you imagine?”
Ollie bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee. “Gold peacocks? You’re joking.”
“I wish I were,” I reply, shaking my head in disbelief. “And when I told her that it might not be... feasible, she threatened to ‘take her business elsewhere,’ as if there’s a magical peacock rental shop I’m unaware of.”
Ollie’s laughter is contagious, and soon I’m laughing too, the stress of the day fading with every shared joke. This is what I love about meeting up with Ollie—no matter how hectic things get, he always manages to bring a little levity to my day.
“So,” I say, leaning forward with a grin, “what about you? How’s the glamorous world of... whatever it is you do?”
Ollie raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you know, just thinking about packing up my entire life and moving to Seattle for this promotion I was offered. No big deal.”
I blink, taken aback for a second. “Wait—what? Seattle? When did this happen?”
He shrugs, trying to play it off casually, but I catch the hesitation in his voice. “A few weeks ago. The company’s expanding, and they want me to head up a new team over there. It’d be a pretty big career jump... could be fun, right? A little career adventure.”
“A little adventure?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Ollie, that’s huge! But...” I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t sound too excited. What’s the catch?”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, but his eyes dart away for a moment. “I mean, it’s a big decision, you know? New city, new life. Leaving behind everything here.”
“Everything... or everyone?” I ask, giving him a playful nudge. “Come on, who’s got you second-guessing this? Spill.”
Ollie rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “No one, really. It’s just... I don’t know. It feels like there’s a lot to consider.”
I tilt my head, watching him closely. “You’re deflecting, but okay, I’ll let it slide for now. But seriously, are you thinking about taking it? Seattle could be a whole new chapter for you.”
He hesitates, his fingers tapping against the mug. “Maybe. It could be great for my career, but...” His voice trails off, and for the first time, I can see that the decision is weighing on him more than he lets on.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms with a teasing smile. “Well, whatever you decide, just make sure you keep in touch with your lowly friends back home when you’re out there becoming a big shot.”
Ollie chuckles again, though there’s something heavier in his eyes now. “Yeah, we’ll see. Big shot or not, I don’t know if I’m ready to leave everything behind just yet.”
The words hang in the air for a moment, and I don’t press him further. It’s clear he’s got some thinking to do, and I’ve learned that pushing Ollie too hard only makes him retreat.
“So,” I say, steering the conversation back to lighter ground, “should I get you a gold peacock for your going-away party? I hear they’re all the rage.”
He laughs again, and the tension lifts, just a little. But as we sip our coffee and chat about everything else, I know there’s more going on behind Ollie’s easy smile.
Whatever he decides, it’s going to change things—for both of us.
Lucas and Mia Confront Their Lingering Feelings
The apartment is quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside, the soft flicker of lights breaking through the dark. I sit on the edge of the bed, the phone heavy in my hand, the screen glowing in the dim room. Jessica’s number is right there. One tap, and I could hear her voice again. Just one tap.
I stare at it, my thumb hovering over the screen, my chest tight. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But the urge is there, clawing at me. It’s the same feeling I had earlier, when I saw that woman on the street and thought, just for a second, that it was her. All those memories rushing back, pulling me under before I could even breathe.
Why are you doing this to yourself, Lucas? I press the phone harder in my hand, my mind swirling with thoughts of the past—the nights we spent talking about everything, her laugh when she was teasing me, the way we planned our future like nothing could stop us. Except something did.
The breakup is still fresh, like a wound that hasn’t quite healed. The phone feels heavier, my hand shaking slightly as I grip it tighter. Just call her. But what would I say? What could I even ask? That I miss her? That I haven’t moved on? That the woman on the street, who wasn’t even her, made me feel like I was back in that mess all over again?
I close my eyes, my mind spinning. My thumb hovers over her name. One call. Just one.
But I stop. I can’t do this. Not again.
I let out a frustrated sigh and throw the phone onto the bed, watching as it bounces once, then lands face down on the covers. The weight in my chest lifts slightly, but not enough. Not yet.
I run my hands through my hair and stand, walking to the window. The city lights blur beneath me, cars moving like they’ve got somewhere important to go. Unlike me. I lean against the glass, the cool surface calming me, reminding me that I’m still here. Focus on what’s ahead, not what’s behind.
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In her apartment, Mia holds the small keepsake box in her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of the lid. The room is still, the only light coming from the small lamp by her bed. She’s been staring at the box for what feels like forever, the weight of it sitting heavy in her hands.
She knows what’s inside. She’s opened it before. But tonight feels different, like she’s standing at the edge of something she’s not sure she wants to face.
With a deep breath, Mia opens the box. Inside is a photo, worn at the edges, the image slightly faded. Her and Mark, back when everything was still new and full of promise. She holds it up to the light, her eyes scanning the faces, the smiles. It feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was.
She sets the photo down and pulls out the necklace, the one he gave her. It glints in the soft light, and she holds it in her palm, feeling the weight of it. The memories rush in, thick and suffocating. The good times, the bad times, the betrayal. She thought she’d moved past it, but seeing this, holding this, it brings it all back.
For a moment, she lets herself feel it—the regret, the anger, the longing for the closure she never got. But then, as quickly as it came, she lets it go. She places the necklace back in the box, closing the lid with a soft click.
This time, it feels different. Final.
Mia sets the box back on the shelf, her heart lighter, her mind clearer. She’s done with this. Done with the past. She can’t keep letting it haunt her. She deserves better. She deserves to move forward.
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I step away from the window, feeling the weight of the decision settle over me. The phone sits there, untouched, silent. I didn’t make the call. I didn’t need to.
Maybe I’ll always carry Jessica with me, the way people carry scars. But it’s time to stop reopening the wound. It’s time to focus on what’s in front of me, not what’s behind.
I take a deep breath, my body feeling lighter, even if the past still lingers in the corners of my mind. It’s there, but it doesn’t own me. Not anymore.
And for the first time in a long time, I think I’m ready to let go.
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Mia closes her eyes as she settles into bed, feeling the weight of the box lifted from her heart. She’s not fully there yet, but tonight, she made a choice.
We both did.
The past will always be part of us, but it doesn’t define us. Not anymore.