Days blended into weeks, quietly slipping past me as break settled into its own rhythm.
Life at home took on a slow, comforting routine — nothing dramatic, just small moments that felt safe enough to lean into.
Every morning, I woke up early to the soft glow coming through my curtains. I'd sit by the kitchen island with a warm cup of tea while my mom rushed around preparing for work, tossing random reminders at me like:
"Don't forget to stretch your laundry before washing."
"Open your windows, let the sun in!"
"You better not sleep the whole day!"
I always rolled my eyes, but those tiny rituals somehow stitched me back together.
My days were full of little things — helping my dad fix things in the garage, teaching my younger brother a recipe he swore he'd never make again, taking slow evening walks around the block with soft music in my ears. Just enough to keep my heart steady.
And yet, sometimes, when everything was quiet, I still felt that familiar sting.
Not every day… but some nights.
---
It was on one of those slow afternoons that my phone lit up unexpectedly.
Denzel.
We hadn't really talked since school closed, so seeing his name flash on my screen almost made my heart skip.
> Denzel:
hey
i found a song that reminded me of you
thought you'd like it
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
He sent the link — an indie track, soft guitar, kind of mellow. Exactly my type of song.
I put my headphones in and played it, and for the first time in a while… I didn't feel sad. Just calm.
I typed back:
> Me:
it's actually really nice
thanks
He replied almost immediately.
> Denzel:
told you
your taste is predictable
I laughed, shaking my head, even though no one could see me.
It wasn't flirty.
It wasn't deep.
Just light. Easy.
Something my chest genuinely needed.
We chatted a bit after that — nothing heavy. Just music, random jokes, and him teasing me about my playlist being 90% "daydream songs." It wasn't a conversation that changed anything. But it made me breathe softer.
---
Lily and I finally met up toward the end of the week.
She ran to me the second she spotted me across the café entrance, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs with her hug.
"You look alive!" she said dramatically, pulling back to inspect my face. "Actually alive. I'm proud."
I rolled my eyes. "Wow. Thanks."
We spent hours talking — about her boyfriend, her parents, the break, classes, fashion ideas for next semester.
She didn't bring up Kade.
Not once.
She knew better.
Instead, she kept me busy.
We tried an overpriced dessert place.
We took pictures in a random boutique mirror and pretended we were trying to build an aesthetic feed.
We even went to a pottery workshop, and hers turned out perfect while mine looked like a collapsed mushroom.
She laughed until she cried.
And I realized something…
Being around her felt like breathing again.
---
The rest of break continued like that — full of tiny, ordinary moments.
Helping my mom bake something new every weekend.
Going to the movies again with my dad because he claimed the popcorn "hits different."
Trying to read but getting distracted by my brother begging me to play video games.
Listening to new music Denzel kept recommending, as if he'd made it his personal mission to expand my playlist.
Little by little, the weight on my chest softened.
I wasn't healed.
Not completely.
But I wasn't breaking anymore either.
I was… adjusting.
Recovering.
Finding myself again piece by piece.
And for the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel heavy.
It felt possible.