Chapter 7: "Faithfully"

Preparation for Natalie’s Gathering

The office is a whirlwind of activity, floral arrangements half-strewn across the room, catering menus piled on one side of my desk, and a scattering of candles waiting to be placed just right. My phone vibrates with last-minute messages from vendors, but I barely glance at them, my mind racing between details. Everything needs to be perfect for tonight. I’ve planned a hundred events like this before, but tonight feels different.

I can’t stop wondering—will he be there? The secret admirer. I haven’t been able to shake the thought since the last note. I’m excited about the gathering, yes, but there’s something more. A spark of curiosity that’s been building with each gesture. Who could it be? And what does it mean that I’m starting to hope he’ll reveal himself?

I shake the thought from my mind, focusing on the last touches. “Jenny, can you make sure the centerpieces are ready to go? And we need to double-check the seating arrangements. I don’t want any surprises tonight.” My voice is brisk, focused, but there’s a buzz beneath it all—an energy I can’t quite contain.

Just as I’m about to head out to finalize the decor in the main room, Ollie strolls in, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, a grin on his face.

“Thought you could use a coffee break,” he says, holding up two cups, his tone casual but warm. “You’ve been in event-planning mode for days now.”

I smile, grateful for the break. “I’ve got about a million things left to do, but I’ll take five minutes.” I take the coffee from him, the warmth of the cup seeping into my hands. “You look suspiciously relaxed for someone still debating a big career move.”

Ollie chuckles, sliding into the chair across from me. “Yeah, about that... I’ve been thinking a lot. The promotion is great, obviously, but moving to a new city? Starting over? It’s a lot.”

I nod, taking a sip of my coffee and leaning against the desk. “It is a lot. But is it what you want?”

He shrugs, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t know. There’s something exciting about the idea of a fresh start, but at the same time... I’ve got a good life here. Friends, routine, people I care about. I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up.”

The conversation lingers in the air, his words hanging between us. I can tell he’s torn—caught between the pull of opportunity and the comfort of what he knows. I feel a pang of empathy, understanding that crossroads all too well. “Whatever you decide,” I say softly, “you have to be sure it’s what’s right for you. Not just what seems like the right next step.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks, Nat. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our coffee, before I glance at the time. “Alright, break’s over. I’ve got an event to finish prepping, and you’ve got some thinking to do.”

Ollie stands, stretching as he looks around the room. “Good luck with the gathering tonight. I’m sure it’ll be perfect, like always.”

“Thanks,” I say with a grin, the excitement bubbling back up as I think of the evening ahead. “Who knows? Maybe tonight will surprise us both.”

He gives me a wink and heads out, leaving me with a smile on my face and a mind buzzing with anticipation. As I turn back to the chaos of event planning, my thoughts drift again to the evening, to the guests, and to the possibility of finally uncovering the identity of my secret admirer.

Lucas Prepares for the Gathering

The apartment is dim, the only light coming from the desk lamp casting a soft glow over the papers scattered across my table. My latest designs are spread out in front of me, the lines and curves just beginning to take shape. There’s something different about these sketches—something more fluid, more alive than my previous work. It’s subtle, but I can feel it. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m finally starting to break out of this creative block.

But even as I look at them, the weight of the looming deadline presses down on me. There’s always more to do, more to refine, and it’s hard to justify taking time away from the project when there’s still so much left unfinished.

I glance over at the mirror, where I stand, half-dressed, adjusting my tie for what feels like the tenth time. Natalie’s gathering. I promised her I’d go, even though part of me still wants to back out, to stay here with my work and avoid the awkward small talk, the questions about what I’ve been up to.

But then again, staying here in this quiet apartment, isolated with nothing but my designs, feels... heavier. Almost suffocating.

I frown at my reflection, tugging at the collar of my shirt, trying to shake the tension out of my shoulders. Why am I so torn about this? It’s just a few hours—socializing, catching up with people. Nothing I can’t handle. And maybe, just maybe, it’s what I need. God knows I’ve been stuck in my own head for too long.

I turn back toward the table, my eyes falling on the latest sketch. There’s a fluidity to it, a looseness in the lines that wasn’t there before. It feels... more organic, less rigid. A part of me wonders if it’s a reflection of something else—maybe, after all this time, I’m finally starting to let go. Let go of the breakup, the pressure I’ve been putting on myself.

I run my fingers over the paper, feeling the texture beneath my fingertips. For the first time in a long while, the work doesn’t feel like an escape. It feels like something I’m building for myself, not as a way to hide, but as a way forward.

I stand there for a moment longer, weighing the decision to stay or go. But the designs—the way they’ve evolved—tell me everything I need to know. I’m ready for more than just work. I’m ready to connect with people again.

Taking a deep breath, I step away from the table and grab my jacket. As I head toward the door, I catch one last glance at the designs. They’ll still be here when I get back.

And maybe, by the time I return, I’ll have something new—some fresh energy to bring into the work, something I’ve been missing.

I close the door behind me, the apartment fading into the background as I step out into the evening air. The gathering awaits, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not just doing this because I promised. I’m doing it because part of me wants to.

Mia Prepares for the Gathering

The soft glow of the evening light spills into my apartment, casting a warm hue over the space. Everything feels peaceful, the familiar hum of the city outside providing a steady rhythm to my thoughts. My outfit is carefully laid out on the bed—nothing too fancy, but polished enough to make me feel confident. Still, a nervous energy pulses through me, making my hands fidget as I smooth out the fabric.

It’s been so long since I’ve done this—since I’ve gone to a gathering where I don’t know most of the people. There’s excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, but it’s tangled with a thread of apprehension. I want to go. I want to step out of my shell, meet new faces, and, maybe, let myself enjoy the night. But there’s a part of me that hesitates.

I glance at myself in the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. My reflection stares back at me, and I can see it in my own eyes—this lingering worry, this quiet fear that I can’t seem to shake. What if I don’t fit in? What if it’s awkward? I’m so used to being alone, wrapped in my work and my thoughts, that the idea of opening myself up to something—someone—new feels like stepping onto shaky ground.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing over the dress I’ve chosen. I try to push the nervous thoughts away, focusing instead on the possibilities the evening holds. Maybe it’s time. Maybe tonight is a small step toward something different.

As I stare down at the outfit, my mind drifts, like it always does lately, to the letters. The calls. The shadow of that secret I’ve been carrying. A part of me wants to tell Natalie, to pull her aside and finally confide in her about everything—the strange notes, the unsettling phone calls that seem to know too much. It’s been weighing on me for weeks, this gnawing uncertainty about who’s behind it all.

But I don’t. I can’t. Not yet.

What would I even say? How would I explain it without sounding paranoid? I’m still trying to understand it all myself. The thought of bringing it up makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, and right now, I’m not ready to open that door. Not with Natalie, not with anyone.

I stand up, taking a deep breath, and smooth the dress one more time before slipping it on. The fabric feels soft against my skin, and as I look at myself in the mirror again, I catch a glimpse of something I haven’t seen in a while—hope. There’s something about tonight that feels important, like it could be the start of something new if I let it.

I grab my coat, slinging it over my shoulders, and head for the door. As I step out into the hallway, the familiar sense of nervous anticipation flares up again, but this time, it’s tempered with something stronger—a cautious excitement. Tonight is about more than just showing up. It’s about letting go, even just a little, of the walls I’ve built around myself.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, I’ll start to trust again.

Lucas and Mia Meet at the Gathering

Natalie’s home is everything I expected—warm, inviting, with twinkling lights casting a soft glow over the room. The space feels intimate, filled with quiet conversations and bursts of laughter here and there. The kind of gathering that makes you feel like you’re part of something, even if you don’t know most of the people.

I step inside, already feeling the weight of the day’s work pulling at me, but I push it down. Tonight, I’m here to be present, to break out of the isolation that’s been my comfort zone for too long. I make my way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and half-hearted smiles, the small talk washing over me without much sticking. Everyone seems friendly, but I can’t shake the lingering sense that I’d rather be back at my desk, working.

And then I see her.

She walks in just moments after I do, welcomed by Natalie with the kind of warmth that makes you instantly feel at ease. Her presence feels... different. Not that I know her yet, but something about the way she carries herself catches my attention. I watch as she’s introduced to a few guests, smiling politely, but I can tell there’s a hint of apprehension in her eyes. Maybe she’s feeling the same out-of-place tension I am.

Our eyes meet across the room. It’s brief, just a flicker, but it’s enough to make me pause. There’s something there—a quiet connection, like we’re both wondering why we’re here and not back in the comfortable silence of our own spaces.

Before I can think too much about it, Natalie makes her way over, Mia by her side. “Lucas, there’s someone I’d love for you to meet,” she says with that signature warmth of hers. “This is Mia.”

Mia. The name feels familiar on my tongue even though I’ve never said it before.

We exchange polite smiles, the usual pleasantries—“Nice to meet you,” “Likewise”—but there’s an undercurrent of something unspoken between us. It’s not uncomfortable, just... tentative. Like we’re both testing the waters, unsure of how deep they go.

“So, Natalie tells me you’re an architect?” Mia asks, her voice soft but genuinely curious.

I nod, shifting my weight slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been working on a project that’s been... well, taking up most of my time.”

She smiles, a small but knowing one. “Sounds familiar. I’m a writer, and it’s hard to pull away from a project once you’re in deep.”

Her words resonate with me more than I expect. There’s a shared understanding in that statement, something about the way we both seem to immerse ourselves in work, maybe to avoid other things. “Exactly. It’s hard to let go, even when you know you need to step back.”

The conversation flows easier after that. I tell her a bit about the community center project I’ve been designing, the way I’ve been experimenting with more fluid, organic forms—trying to break out of the rigid structures I’ve always relied on. She listens intently, not just nodding along but asking thoughtful questions, showing a real interest. It’s rare, honestly, to find someone outside of work who seems to actually care about what I do.

“The way you describe it,” she says, “it sounds like more than just a building. It’s like you’re trying to express something through the design.”

Her words catch me off guard. I hadn’t thought about it that way, but maybe she’s right. Maybe the fluidity in my current designs is a reflection of something more—something personal. “I guess I am,” I admit, surprised by my own vulnerability. “It’s the first project in a while where I’ve felt like I’m doing more than just... constructing walls.”

She smiles softly at that, and for a moment, the room feels smaller, quieter. There’s a tension between us—not the bad kind, but the kind that feels like potential, like something unspoken that’s waiting to be acknowledged.

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But just as quickly as the moment settles, it slips away. We’re both cautious, holding back, neither of us ready to fully let our guard down. I can see it in her eyes, the way she’s engaged but still keeping part of herself at a distance.

We talk a little longer, about her writing, about how difficult it can be to balance passion with reality. It’s easy, the conversation, but there’s still that lingering hesitation. As if we both know this could be something, but we’re not ready to dive in yet.

The night continues around us, the laughter and conversations swirling in the background, but my focus keeps drifting back to Mia. I don’t know what it is yet, but there’s something there, something worth exploring—if we’re both willing to take the risk.

For now, though, it’s enough just to be here, in this moment, with someone who feels as guarded and curious as I am.

Natalie’s Secret Admirer Gesture

The soft hum of conversation and laughter fills my home, the twinkling lights casting a warm glow over the room. I’ve been moving from group to group, checking in with guests, making sure everyone’s comfortable. The evening has gone smoothly, just the way I planned, but there’s this tiny flutter of excitement underneath it all that has nothing to do with event planning.

As I slip away for a moment, just to catch my breath, I spot something small and discreet left on the side table by the hallway. It’s a note—folded neatly, almost as if someone meant for me to find it but didn’t want to make a big show of it.

Curious, I pick it up, my fingers running over the smooth paper. It’s unmarked, no name, no indication of who it’s from. I unfold it slowly, half-expecting it to be a little thank-you from one of the guests. But when I read the words, I realize it’s something more.

“A small reminder that even amidst the crowd, some things are meant just for you.”

The handwriting is neat, deliberate. My heart does a little skip as I stare at the note, the meaning behind it hitting me. This isn’t just a casual thank-you. It’s personal—very personal. There’s something about the simplicity of the gesture that makes it feel... intentional, like the person behind it knows me well enough to understand I’d appreciate the subtlety.

I glance around the room, scanning the faces of the guests, but no one seems out of place. Everyone’s engaged in conversation or laughter, completely unaware of the small mystery unfolding in my hands.

For a moment, I brush it off as a sweet gesture from a friend, someone who’s just trying to make me smile. But there’s something else lingering beneath the surface. This is the third note I’ve received now, each one a little more personal than the last. It’s becoming harder to write it off as just a friendly gesture.

Tucking the note into my pocket, I rejoin the party, moving through the conversations with ease, but my mind keeps drifting back to the note. Who could it be? Why now? The admirer has been careful, subtle, but this feels more deliberate than before, like they’re testing the waters, waiting for me to catch on.

I smile and laugh with my guests, but the note stays in the back of my mind, adding a quiet layer of intrigue to the evening. I know I can’t dwell on it now—there are people to host, and I still have a gathering to run—but the curiosity lingers, building quietly in the background. I’ll figure it out. Eventually.

But for now, the mystery can wait. At least until the night quiets down and I’m left to wonder who’s paying such close attention to me.

Ollie and Natalie Discuss Life Decisions

The night has softened, the hum of the gathering now just a quiet murmur in the background. Most of the guests have left, and the energy in the room has shifted—less lively, more reflective. I find myself in a quieter corner of the house, sinking into one of the overstuffed chairs near the window. The twinkling lights outside catch the edges of the glass, and for a moment, I just breathe, letting the calm settle in.

Ollie slides into the chair across from me, the comfortable silence between us thick with unspoken thoughts. We’ve always had that ease—the ability to sit in silence without the need to fill it, but tonight, I can tell there’s more on his mind.

“You good?” I ask, turning toward him with a gentle nudge. I know him well enough to see when something’s brewing beneath the surface.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. Just... been thinking a lot lately.”

I don’t push, just wait. Ollie always comes around when he’s ready.

“About the promotion?” I offer, and he nods, staring down at his hands like the words are hiding in his palms.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a big deal, right? Great opportunity, more responsibility, everything I’ve been working toward. But...”

I lean forward a little, my curiosity piqued. “But?”

He glances up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of hesitation and longing. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve built a good life here. Friends, routine. Moving to a new city, starting over... it’s scary. And part of me wonders if I’m really doing it for the right reasons.”

There it is. The heart of it. I can see the weight of the decision pressing down on him, pulling him in two different directions. It’s not just about the job; it’s about leaving behind the comfort of the life he’s built. The people. The connections.

I nod slowly, feeling the words rise up in me, not just for him, but for myself, too. “I think when it comes to making big decisions, there’s always going to be that tug between what feels safe and what feels like growth. And neither one is wrong. But you have to ask yourself what you’re looking for right now—stability, or something new.”

He takes that in, letting it sit for a moment. “What about you?” he asks, turning the conversation back on me. “Any big decisions you’ve been sitting on?”

I laugh softly, but it’s more to cover the sudden flood of thoughts swirling in my head. The secret admirer, the notes, the small gifts—it’s all been stirring something in me, but I’m not even sure what to do with it yet.

“I don’t know,” I say, playing it off lightly, but Ollie catches the shift in my tone. “There’s been... stuff. You know how it is. Life throws these little unexpected things at you, and suddenly, you’re rethinking everything.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Like secret admirers?”

I blink, surprised. “How did you—?”

“Natalie,” he says with a grin, “I may be wrapped up in my own stuff, but I’m not blind. You’ve been a little... preoccupied lately.”

I smile, shaking my head. “Yeah, okay, you got me. I’ve been getting these notes. Sweet gestures, little gifts. It’s nice, but... I don’t know who it’s from. And now, I’m trying to figure out what it means. If I even want to know.”

He leans back, his expression softening. “Sounds like you’re at a crossroads, too.”

I shrug, feeling a bit more vulnerable than I expected. “Maybe. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want. Not just from work, but from... everything else. Relationships, life in general. And I guess, like you, I’m torn between what’s comfortable and the unknown.”

Ollie nods, and there’s a quiet understanding between us now. We’re both navigating the same uncertain waters, trying to figure out what we’re supposed to do next.

“Whatever you decide,” he says, his voice steady, “I know you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I smile at that, grateful for the support. “Same goes for you, Ollie. Whatever happens, you’ll make the right call.”

The conversation feels like a deep breath, a moment of clarity between two friends who’ve always had each other’s backs. We sit there for a while longer, not needing to say much more, the weight of our decisions lighter now that they’ve been shared.

As the night winds down, I feel the quiet strength of our friendship settle around us like a warm blanket. We may not have all the answers yet, but at least we’re not alone in figuring them out.

Mia Confides in Lucas

The noise of the gathering has faded into the background, leaving only the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. I find myself in a quieter corner of Natalie’s home, away from the last few guests who linger in the main room. Lucas is next to me, his presence calm and steady, like an anchor in the midst of the evening’s chaos.

I don’t know how we ended up here—just the two of us—but I’m not uncomfortable. In fact, there’s something about the quiet between us that feels right. Easy, even. We’re not strangers anymore, not after the conversations earlier, but there’s still so much we don’t know about each other. And yet, I feel like maybe he’d understand more than most.

He glances at me, his eyes warm but curious, and for a moment, I debate whether or not to say what’s been on my mind all night. I’ve been carrying this weight for weeks now—the letters, the strange calls—and I haven’t told anyone. Not even Sophie, my closest friend. But something about Lucas, about this moment, makes me think I might be able to trust him.

Still, the hesitation is there, knotting in my chest. I don’t want to burden him. We’ve only just met, after all. What if he thinks I’m overreacting? What if he just nods politely, offers empty reassurances, and then forgets all about it by tomorrow?

But then Lucas shifts, leaning in just slightly, his expression soft but concerned. “You okay?” he asks quietly, like he can sense the internal struggle I’m having. His voice is low, and somehow, that makes it easier. Less pressure.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk about. It’s... complicated.”

He doesn’t interrupt, just waits, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I’ve been getting these letters,” I begin, my voice faltering slightly as I force the words out. “And calls. From someone I don’t know. At first, I thought it was just a prank or someone being weird, but... it’s been happening for a while now. And they—whoever it is—they seem to know things about me. Personal things.”

There, I’ve said it. And suddenly, the weight of it feels a little lighter.

Lucas’s face remains calm, though there’s a flicker of something—concern, maybe?—in his eyes. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

I shake my head, my fingers absentmindedly twisting the edge of my sleeve. “No. I didn’t want to worry anyone. And I guess I didn’t want to admit that it’s been bothering me this much.”

He nods slowly, processing what I’ve said. “That sounds... unsettling. And I get why you wouldn’t want to tell people right away, but it’s a good thing you’re talking about it now. You shouldn’t have to handle this on your own.”

His words are simple, but there’s something comforting in the way he says them—like he’s not judging, not trying to fix it, just letting me know he’s there.

I look down at my hands, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. “It’s just... I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but the more it happens, the harder it gets.”

Lucas doesn’t rush me, doesn’t push for more. Instead, he leans back slightly, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But you shouldn’t ignore it either. Maybe we can figure out what’s going on together.”

I meet his gaze, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. “But I want to. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For the first time in weeks, I feel something shift inside me—like maybe I don’t have to carry this burden by myself anymore. There’s a quiet understanding in the way Lucas looks at me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

Just then, I catch a glimpse of Sophie across the room, her eyes flicking toward us with a knowing smile. She’s probably noticed the quiet exchange, always the one to pick up on the things left unsaid. She flashes me a quick, teasing look, as if to say, Don’t hold back.

Lucas doesn’t seem to notice, but I can’t help but smile softly to myself. Sophie’s right, in her way. Maybe it’s time to stop holding everything so close to my chest. Maybe it’s time to start trusting someone else, even if it’s just one step at a time.

The gathering continues to wind down around us, but in this quiet corner, with Lucas sitting beside me, I feel something new. Something like hope.

Lucas and Mia’s Lingering Thoughts

The soft glow of the city lights filters into my apartment as I close the door behind me. The quiet wraps around me like a familiar blanket, but tonight it feels different—less comforting, more hollow. I drop my keys on the table and run a hand through my hair, the events of the evening playing on a loop in my mind.

Mia.

I keep seeing her face, the way her eyes flickered with uncertainty as she told me about the letters, the calls. The trust she placed in me, a near stranger. I wasn’t expecting that—wasn’t expecting to feel this pull toward her, like I want to protect her, help her through whatever’s been haunting her. But then, as I sit on the edge of my bed, I can’t help but wonder if I’m in any position to do that.

I’m still untangling my own mess. The breakup, the pressure of work—it’s all been weighing me down, keeping me at arm’s length from anything or anyone that could make me feel... well, more. And yet, there was something about the way Mia opened up, the way she looked at me with a kind of cautious trust. It stirred something in me I haven’t felt in a while.

But am I ready for this? For something more than just getting through the day?

I sigh, leaning back against the wall, my mind spinning in circles. Maybe it’s not about being ready. Maybe it’s about just... taking a step. Being there, even if I don’t have all the answers yet.

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Mia’s apartment feels warm and familiar, but there’s a buzz of energy under the surface that I can’t quite shake. I hang my coat on the hook by the door and exhale, the weight of the evening settling in now that I’m finally alone.

I did it. I opened up. I told Lucas about the letters, the calls. The secret that’s been gnawing at me for weeks.

And it didn’t feel... wrong. It didn’t feel like too much. If anything, it felt like a release—like I could finally breathe again, even if it was just for a moment.

I sit down on the couch, curling my legs beneath me, my thoughts still swirling. There’s a part of me that’s relieved, but another part, the cautious one, is already starting to question if I’ve made a mistake. Lucas seems kind, understanding, but I barely know him. How much trust is too much, too soon?

I glance at the window, the faint reflection of myself looking back at me. I’ve kept people at a distance for so long, afraid of letting anyone too close. Afraid of the vulnerability that comes with trusting someone. But tonight... I took a step. And maybe that’s enough for now.

But still, there’s this lingering thought. A quiet hope, buried beneath the fear, that maybe—just maybe—I don’t have to go through this alone. That maybe, Lucas could be someone worth letting in.

The fear is still there, though, like a quiet whisper reminding me to stay guarded. But for the first time in a long time, the hope is a little louder.

Grace and Susan’s Heart-to-Heart

The soft crackling of the fireplace fills the room, a warm glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. I sit across from Susan, the comforting smell of tea rising between us as we settle into the evening. The room is filled with memories—family photos lining the shelves, old mementos tucked into corners—each piece adding to the sense of home that’s always wrapped around this space.

But despite the warmth of the room, there’s a heaviness in my chest. It’s been there for a while now, and I can’t seem to shake it.

“I’m really worried about him, Susan,” I say, my voice soft, but the concern in it is clear. “Lucas hasn’t been himself since the breakup. He’s always been strong, you know? But lately... I don’t know. It feels like he’s just drifting.”

Susan leans forward, resting her cup on the table. Her eyes, always so calm and steady, meet mine with that knowing look she’s perfected over the years. “He’s hurting, Grace. He’s buried himself in work because that’s easier than facing what’s really going on inside.”

I nod, wrapping my hands around the cup to steady the slight tremble in my fingers. “That’s what worries me. I see it in him, the way he’s just... shut down. It’s like work is the only thing he has left, the only way he can avoid feeling what he doesn’t want to feel.”

Susan’s quiet for a moment, considering. She’s always been good at that—giving things the time they need before responding. Finally, she speaks, her voice thoughtful. “Maybe that’s true for now. But I don’t think he’s as lost as you fear. He’s on the edge of something. I can feel it. Sometimes people have to fall apart before they can put themselves back together.”

Her words settle over me, and I sigh, leaning back into the cushions. “But what if he never does? What if he just keeps going like this, hiding behind his work?”

A small smile touches Susan’s lips. “He won’t. He’s stronger than you think, Grace. But you’re right, he can’t do it alone. It’ll take the right person to reach him, to help him see that there’s more to life than work. Someone who can help him find his way back.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, catching the hint in her tone. “You mean Mia, don’t you?”

Susan shrugs, but her smile deepens. “She’s already started to bring him out of his shell, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Sometimes, all it takes is the right kind of presence in someone’s life to remind them of what they’re missing.”

I let out a soft chuckle, but my heart lifts a little at the thought. “Maybe. I’ve seen the way he looks when she’s around—like something’s shifting inside him. But I don’t want to push him. He’s been through enough.”

Susan leans back in her chair, her eyes still warm, but there’s a hint of firmness in her voice. “You don’t have to push. Just be there. And when the time comes, he’ll take the steps he needs to. Sometimes, all we can do is stand by and watch, ready to help when they’re ready to lean on us.”

I sip my tea, letting the warmth seep into me as I think about Lucas, about everything he’s been carrying. “I just want him to be happy again, Susan. That’s all.”

She reaches across the table, giving my hand a squeeze. “He will be, Grace. He will. We just have to have faith that he’ll find his way.”

I smile, feeling a bit of the weight lift from my chest. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Lucas is closer to healing than I thought. And maybe... just maybe, Mia could be part of that journey for him.

The fire crackles softly in the background, and as we sit there, I feel a small flicker of hope start to burn a little brighter.