The small bookstore was dim, warm, and packed with folding chairs and a crowd buzzing with quiet anticipation.
Eleena's hands trembled as she clutched the worn copy of the literary journal with her story inside. The smell of old pages and fresh coffee filled the air.
She had never done anything like this before.
Backstage, her heart drummed like a storm.
What if I forget my words?
What if my voice cracks?
What if no one cares?
But then, a familiar hand found hers.
Calen smiled gently.
"You belong here," he whispered. "You've earned this moment."
She squeezed his hand and nodded.
When her name was called, she stepped onto the small stage. The room fell quiet.
Eleena took a breath and looked out — not at the crowd, but at the faces lighting up with curiosity and kindness.
She began to read.
Her voice cracked once, but she pushed through.
She read The Leaving Season aloud — every raw line, every quiet ache, every small victory. The words felt alive, no longer just ink on paper but a bridge between her and the listeners.
By the end, there were tears. Not just hers, but others too.
When she finished, the applause came slow and steady, like a tide lifting her up.
Afterward, as people approached with soft words and grateful smiles, she spotted someone standing quietly near the back.
It was Jace.
He looked different. Older. Wiser.
Their eyes met briefly.
No words. No explanations.
Just a nod — a silent acknowledgment that she had grown beyond what either of them had imagined.
Calen wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
"You were incredible," he said.
Eleena smiled, feeling a weight lift from her chest.
For the first time, she wasn't afraid to be seen.
Not broken. Not afraid
Just whole.