Archive of Our Own

There were five things Sophia hated.

One: mustard.

She didn’t know why. Ketchup was fine. Mayo was fine. But mustard? Just the smell of it made her nose wrinkle like her body rejected it on principle alone.

Two: the cold.

Not the cozy kind—the kind that slipped through sleeves and settled into your bones. Airports were always full of it. That was why she wore two sweaters beneath her brown coat, hands shoved deep into her pockets while pretending she wasn’t shivering.

Three: being left out.

Sophia liked small circles. Tiny ones, actually. Just enough people to make her feel seen without having to fight for space in a conversation. And within that circle, there had always been one person who mattered more than everyone else combined.

Four: crowded places.

Especially airports.

People rushed everywhere without looking, wheels screeching against tile floors, children crying, announcements blaring overhead like the world was ending every ten minutes. A little boy nearly crashed into her while chasing after his mother, only letting go of her hand for half a second before panic took over his face.

Sophia stepped aside quickly.

“Somebody’s going to eat airport tile today,” she muttered under her breath.

The joke almost made her smile. Almost.

And five—the worst one, the one she never said out loud—

letting go of someone you loved.

Someone irreplaceable.

Someone like Daniela.

Sophia stared at the large open windows, seeing her reflection blurred by falling snow outside. She let herself gaze into it, letting her mind drift back. Memories, laughter, small arguments, quiet afternoons—they all came rushing in at once, and for a moment, she felt both warmth and ache, the kind only first love—or love that has always been—could bring.

Twelve years ago…

Sophia was sitting cross-legged in the garden outside their front porch, carefully avoiding the muddy parts of the grass like her life depended on it.

She wore denim overalls with tiny strawberry patches on the knees and her hair in uneven pigtails her mother had rushed through that morning. Her little yellow shoes were already stained with mud anyway, which she considered a personal attack.

Nearby, her mother scrubbed the family car in the driveway while humming an old song from the radio. Her father was crouched beside the broken sprinkler system, muttering dramatically every time the hose sprayed water straight into his face.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbled after another splash.

Sophia barely looked up.

She was too busy committing crimes against her mother’s flower bed.

One by one, she plucked tiny red Santan flowers and threaded their stems together carefully, tongue peeking out in concentration.

Her mother, Carla, had already given her three lessons on never picking flowers in the garden. Sophia thought, If flowers didn’t want to be made into bracelets, why do they grow in such perfectly convenient little clumps?

She knew she wasn’t supposed to pick them, but in her defense, she was making art.

Or what she considered art at six years old.

She had almost finished her flower bracelet when two enormous moving trucks rumbled into the street.

Sophia froze.

The trucks slowed in front of the empty house next door—the one that had been abandoned for months because, according to neighborhood gossip, the previous owners “hated sunlight and joy.”

Movers jumped out immediately, carrying boxes and lamps and furniture wrapped in blankets. Adults shouted directions over each other while cardboard boxes labeled KITCHEN and FRAGILE disappeared into the house.

And then Sophia saw her.

A little girl around her age stepped out of the gray car, dark curls bouncing wildly around her face. She clutched a cream-colored puppy stuffed toy tightly against her chest like it was alive. One of her hands stayed wrapped around her mother’s fingers while her father spoke to the movers nearby.

For a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

The girl looked up.

Their eyes met across the lawns.

And Sophia swore—even now, years later—that something shifted inside her right then.

The curly-haired girl smiled first.

Not a small smile. Not a shy one.

A huge, toothy grin with a missing front tooth, as if she already knew a secret Sophia didn’t.

Then she lifted the stuffed puppy and waved it excitedly through the air.

Sophia’s cheeks burned so fast it startled her. She lifted her hand in a tiny wave back, suddenly aware of everything at once: her muddy shoes, the flower stems on her fingers, the way her heart had started beating weirdly hard.

It lasted maybe five seconds.

But somehow, Sophia would remember it forever.

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

Moonlight spilled across her bedroom floor while glow-in-the-dark stars clung crookedly to her ceiling. Sophia lay awake beneath her blankets, staring through the dim light of her lantern and thinking about dark curls and bright eyes and a smile that felt warmer than sunlight.

At six years old, she didn’t have the words for destiny.

But she remembered thinking, very clearly:

I hope she stays.

The next day, Sophia sat at the piano bench with her legs swinging nervously above the floor, staring at the sheet music like it had personally insulted her.

Her piano teacher kept saying things like “feel the rhythm” and “trust your fingers,” but Sophia was beginning to suspect her fingers were stupid.

Every key looked the same.

The piano itself smelled faintly like old wood, dust, and maybe chocolate somehow. She couldn’t explain the chocolate part. It just did.

Sophia pressed another wrong note.

The piano answered with a loud, offended HONK.

She gasped.

“So stupid,” she whispered to the instrument.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sophia jumped so hard her knee slammed into the piano bench.

For one horrifying second, she thought the piano had finally decided to fight back.

Another knock came from the front door.

Sophia slid off the bench and tiptoed dramatically toward the hallway like she was in a spy movie. She crouched beside the mail slot and peeked through carefully.

Two enormous hazel eyes stared right back at her.

Sophia yelped and nearly fell backward.

The eyes blinked.

Warm brown and gold swirled together like melted caramel under sunlight, and six-year-old Sophia’s brain immediately short-circuited.

What kind of eyes are those?

She slammed the mail slot shut.

“Mommy!” she squeaked. “There’s a person outside!”

Carla walked over, trying very hard not to laugh while opening the door.

Standing outside was a smiling woman holding a freshly baked pie that smelled so good Sophia almost forgave strangers for existing. Beside her stood the curly-haired girl from yesterday, still hugging the cream-colored puppy stuffed toy against her chest.

Sophia froze instantly.

The girl’s curls bounced as she lifted the stuffed puppy and waved it enthusiastically.

“Hi!”

Sophia stared at her.

Why is she waving with the dog too?

And worse—why is that adorable?

“Hi…” Sophia muttered weakly, cheeks already burning.

“Good morning! We just moved in next door,” the woman said warmly. “Thought we’d introduce ourselves.”

She offered her other hand to Carla. “I’m Ana Avanzini, and this is my daughter, Daniela.” She gestured toward her daughter, who was smiling and waving enthusiastically.

Carla beamed. “Carla Laforteza. Welcome to the neighborhood!” She reached out and patted Daniela’s hair. “You’re adorable.”

Then she gently nudged Sophia forward. “Go on, anak,” she teased softly. “Don’t hide behind me forever.”

Sophia swallowed.

“G-good morning,” she said carefully, standing up straighter. “I’m Sophia Elizabeth Laforteza. But you can just call me Sophia.”

She held out her hand with the seriousness of a tiny businesswoman closing an important deal.

The woman laughed kindly as she shook it.

And before Sophia could recover from the embarrassment of existing—

Daniela launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her.

Sophia stopped breathing.

Every thought inside her head disappeared instantly.

Do people just do this?!

Her arms stayed awkwardly frozen at her sides while Daniela hugged her like they had known each other forever. Then, just as suddenly, Daniela pulled away with a grin so bright it almost hurt to look at.

Sophia’s heart felt weird.

Not bad weird.

Just… weird weird.

Carla invited the Avanzinis inside. The two adults chatted enthusiastically in the living room, laughter spilling over as they shared stories.

Meanwhile, Daniela wandered over to the toy shelves, eyes wide and curious, poking at the stuffed animals and little action figures, completely absorbed in exploring her new friend’s world.

Sophia tiptoed back to the piano, her mind spinning.

But she couldn’t play with an audience, not even a tiny, adorable one.

Sophia stared down at her sheet music again.

There was still one unfinished line left at the bottom of the page.

Her teacher said she wasn’t allowed to stop halfway through a piece.

Sophia personally believed unfinished songs probably haunted houses.

So she lifted her fingers carefully and started again, softer this time, pressing the keys like she was trying not to wake a sleeping dragon.

A few notes in, she suddenly felt someone beside her.

Daniela stood there, watching her hands closely.

Sophia immediately forgot how fingers worked.

“Why did you stop?” Daniela asked, voice curious and commanding like she was a tiny general.

“I… I’m done,” Sophia mumbled, glancing at the sheet like it had turned into a scary monster.

“No, you’re not,” Daniela said, pointing.

“What do you mean?” Sophia squeaked.

“You’re still here. You can do it. You play reallllyyy gooood,” Daniela insisted, nodding seriously.

“You… can read this?” Sophia asked, wide-eyed.

Daniela nodded. “Duh! It’s just squiggles and dots. Easy.”

Sophia’s brain fizzled.

Normally, she hated when people acted better than her at things.

But Daniela didn’t sound mean about it.

She sounded… excited. Like Sophia playing piano was the coolest thing she had ever seen.

“Here,” Daniela said, leaning over the keys. “Like this.”

Carefully—tongue sticking out in concentration—Daniela pressed the remaining notes one by one. Not perfectly.

But correctly.

Sophia’s eyes widened.

She actually did it…

That day, they played together, laughing at mistakes, whispering like spies, and creating a tiny world where only the piano, the toys, and their giggles existed. From the living room, their moms peeked and smiled, but for Sophia, the real magic was in that little girl with the curls.

After that, the Lafortezas and the Avanzinis became practically inseparable.

Birthdays, Sunday barbecues, Christmas dinners, grocery runs, random beach trips—if one family was there, the other probably wasn’t far behind. At some point, their parents stopped knocking before entering each other’s houses.

And somehow, in every single gathering, Sophia and Daniela always disappeared eventually.

Adults would be mid-conversation before one of the mothers suddenly asked, “Where are those two?”

Usually, they were outside inventing their own universe.

Sometimes they were pirates digging for treasure at the beach, building sandcastles so elaborate they argued over architectural decisions like tiny married homeowners. Other times, they wandered the shoreline collecting seashells for each other like sacred offerings.

“This one looks like you,” Daniela would say proudly, handing Sophia a completely ordinary shell.

Sophia would accept it anyway like it was priceless.

Daniela once invited her into the treehouse her father built in their backyard, and Sophia remembered thinking it was the coolest place on earth. They hung fairy lights inside, stuffed blankets into the corners, and made up dramatic passwords nobody remembered the next day.

During sleepovers, they built blanket forts that collapsed every fifteen minutes because Daniela kept laughing too hard and kicking the pillows apart.

And when one of them got a Happy Meal?

The other absolutely needed the exact same Happy Meal.

Not similar.

Exact.

Sophia still remembered Daniela crying once because Sophia got the dragon toy while she got the panda.

“We can trade,” Sophia offered immediately.

Daniela sniffled. “Really?”

Sophia nodded like it was the easiest decision in the world.

Daniela hugged her so hard she almost dropped her fries.

Even Charlie betrayed Sophia eventually.

Her golden retriever adored Daniela to an almost offensive degree. The moment Daniela entered the house, Charlie abandoned Sophia completely and followed Daniela around like a lovesick security guard.

“Wow,” Sophia muttered once while watching Charlie rest his head dramatically on Daniela’s lap. “Okay. Traitor.”

Daniela only laughed and scratched behind Charlie’s ears.

“He just knows I’m the favorite.”

“You literally met him second.”

“And yet.”

Sophia hated how smug she looked.

One night, during a sleepover at Sophia’s house, rain tapped softly against the windows while the two of them lay beneath a mountain of blankets inside their fort.

Daniela held a flashlight beneath her chin dramatically while reading from a children’s storybook, completely overcommitted to every character voice.

Sophia tried very hard not to laugh.

“You’re doing too much,” she whispered sleepily.

Daniela gasped. “Art should never be silenced.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, but she smiled anyway.

The flashlight cast soft shadows across Daniela’s curls while she kept reading, voice slowly growing quieter as the night deepened around them.

Sophia could barely keep her eyes open anymore.

Everything felt warm.

The blankets.

The rain.

Daniela sitting beside her.

And right before sleep finally pulled her under, she heard Daniela whisper softly—

“Goodnight, Fifi. I love you.”

Sophia’s eyes fluttered open slightly.

I love you.

The words settled strangely inside her chest.

Big.

Warm.

Important.

She wanted to say it back immediately.

But nine-year-old Sophia didn’t fully understand what love meant yet. Was it the same as gratitude? Or happiness? Or wanting someone beside you all the time?

Maybe it was all of those things mixed together.

Sleep tugged at her too quickly before she could figure it out.

And somewhere between childhood and forever, Sophia’s heart began learning a language it would spend years trying to understand.

Six years later, Sophia decided middle school was a scam designed specifically to embarrass people.

Everything was changing too fast.

One day, boys were eating glue sticks for fun, and the next, everyone suddenly smelled like perfume and insecurity.

Sophia hated it.

Right now, she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor while Daniela painted her nails a soft cherry red with the concentration of a surgeon performing open-heart surgery.

“Stop moving,” Daniela complained.

“I’m not moving.”

“You literally twitched.”

“I breathed.”

“That counts.”

Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically but stayed still anyway.

Outside her bedroom window, late afternoon sunlight spilled across the room in warm gold streaks, catching dust particles in the air and turning everything softer somehow. Her playlist hummed quietly from an old speaker while Daniela leaned closer to blow gently on the wet polish.

And suddenly—

Sophia forgot how to breathe correctly.

Daniela was close.

Too close.

Close enough for Sophia to notice the tiny beauty mark above her eyebrow. Close enough to smell her strawberry shampoo. Close enough that sunlight tangled itself inside her curls and made her look unfairly beautiful.

Sophia stared.

Daniela’s brows furrowed in concentration while carefully holding Sophia’s hand.

“You keep smudging,” Daniela muttered.

Sophia barely heard her.

Something weird twisted low in her stomach.

Warm. Heavy. Wrong.

Her eyes drifted slowly across Daniela’s face like she was seeing her properly for the first time.

And then—

Oh.

Oh, something is happening.

Sophia’s entire body went rigid.

A strange feeling pooled low in her abdomen and panic shot through her instantly.

She stood up so abruptly the nail polish bottle nearly tipped over.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Daniela blinked. “Wait, I’m not done with your—”

The bathroom door slammed shut.

Sophia sat on the toilet seat in complete horror, heart pounding so hard she thought she might actually pass out. After several seconds of mentally preparing herself for death, she slowly peeked into her underwear.

Blood.

Sophia stared blankly.

Oh no no no no—

She got her period.

She thought.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Unless she was somehow dying.

A knock sounded gently against the bathroom door.

“Fifi?”

Daniela’s voice came softly from the other side of the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

Sophia covered her face with both hands.

She was sitting on the closed toilet seat like someone had just delivered devastating news from the government.

“Not really,” she said weakly.

There was a pause.

Then Daniela’s voice became quieter. “Can I come in?”

Sophia stared at the door.

Absolutely not, her brain said.

She is your best friend, another part of her brain argued.

This is humiliating, the dramatic part of her brain added. I should move countries.

Sophia sighed, long and tragic, the kind of sigh only a fifteen-year-old girl could release when she believed life had personally chosen her as its favorite victim.

Then she unlocked the door.

Daniela stepped inside immediately.

Her curls were a little messy from lying on Sophia’s bed earlier, and her face was full of concern. Real concern. The kind that made Sophia want to cry more because Daniela always looked at her like everything she felt mattered.

Sophia looked up at her miserably.

“I think I got my period.”

For exactly one second, Daniela only stared at her.

Then—

“Oh my God!”

Sophia flinched.

Before she could even ask if she was dying, Daniela threw her arms around her.

“We’re women now!”

Sophia blinked into Daniela’s shoulder.

This was not the reaction she had prepared for.

In her head, she had imagined panic. Maybe screaming. Maybe Daniela running to call Carla. Maybe an ambulance, even though she was pretty sure people did not call ambulances for periods.

But Daniela was hugging her like Sophia had just won Miss Universe.

Daniela pulled back, eyes shining with excitement. “See? I told you it didn’t matter that you got yours later than everyone else.”

Sophia stared at her. “This is your reaction?”

“Yes!” Daniela said, grinning. “This is iconic.”

Sophia slowly looked down at herself, then back at Daniela. “I am literally bleeding.”

“And surviving,” Daniela said proudly. “Very powerful of you.”

Sophia gave her a look.

Daniela continued, placing both hands on Sophia’s shoulders like she was giving an important speech to the nation.

“Now we have to become mysterious and powerful and wear sunglasses indoors like actual It Girls.”

“We’re fifteen.”

“And?”

“My mom still cuts mangoes for us.”

“That’s part of the brand.”

Sophia tried not to laugh.

She failed.

A small laugh slipped out, shaky and embarrassed, but real.

Daniela smiled wider, like she had won.

And somehow, in the middle of the most horrifying bathroom moment of Sophia’s life, Daniela made it feel less like the end of the world.

That was Daniela’s talent.

She could walk into Sophia’s disaster and hang fairy lights around it.

Later that night, Daniela slept over like always.

The two of them lay beneath Sophia’s blankets while rain tapped softly against the windows. The room smelled like baby powder, nail polish, and the strawberry lotion Daniela had used too much of because she claimed “moisturized people have better futures.”

Daniela fell asleep almost immediately.

Of course she did.

Daniela could fall asleep anywhere. In cars. On couches. Once, during a school program, with her eyes half-open, which Sophia still believed was demonic.

Now she was curled beside Sophia, one arm thrown loosely around her waist like it had always belonged there.

Sophia stayed awake.

Completely awake.

Painfully awake.

The room was quiet except for the rain and Daniela’s soft breathing. Every now and then, Daniela’s fingers moved slightly against Sophia’s shirt, and Sophia felt her whole body freeze like she had been caught committing a crime.

A very confusing crime.

Because the weird feeling had not gone away.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

It was not just the hug.

It was not just Daniela being close.

It was everything.

The staring.

The panic whenever Daniela leaned too near.

The way Sophia got annoyed when other girls made Daniela laugh too hard.

The way Daniela’s smile sometimes felt dangerous.

Not dangerous like a scary movie.

Dangerous like standing too close to the edge of a rooftop and realizing part of you wanted to look down.

Sophia swallowed hard.

This had been happening for a while now.

Maybe even longer than she wanted to admit.

Maybe it started with Daniela’s hand grabbing hers at the beach.

Maybe it started with Daniela calling her Fifi.

Maybe it started when they were six years old and Daniela hugged her before Sophia even knew how to hug back.

Sophia turned her face toward the wall, trying to escape her own thoughts.

Bad idea.

Her posters were there.

Actresses. Musicians. Fashion campaigns. All the women she thought made her room look mature and sophisticated, even though there was still a stuffed rabbit on her shelf wearing a friendship bracelet.

Her eyes landed on one poster in particular.

Keira Knightley.

Sophia stared at her.

Then, for some completely unhelpful reason, her mind thought of Atonement.

The longing. The silence. The whole tragic, dramatic feeling of people wanting things they could not say out loud.

Sophia’s stomach twisted.

No.

No, no, no.

She could not be thinking that.

She could not be feeling that.

Not about Daniela.

Not her best friend.

Not the girl currently asleep beside her, breathing softly like she had no idea she had just detonated Sophia’s entire life.

Sophia squeezed her eyes shut.

You just got your period.

Maybe this is hormones. Maybe this is normal. Maybe every girl gets her period and suddenly wants to emotionally stare at her best friend like a sad music video.

But the thought did not comfort her.

Because deep down, Sophia knew this was not new.

It had only finally found a name.

She opened her eyes again.

Daniela shifted in her sleep and moved closer, her forehead brushing against Sophia’s shoulder.

Sophia stopped breathing.

Her heart hurt.

Not in a funny way this time.

In a terrifying way.

Because she loved Daniela.

Maybe not in the way little girls loved their best friends because they shared snacks and secrets and matching hair clips.

Maybe not in the safe way Sophia had been pretending.

Maybe in the way that could ruin everything.

Her parents could not know.

Daniela could not know.

No one could know.

Sophia stared at the ceiling as rain kept falling outside, soft and steady, like the world had not just changed.

Beside her, Daniela slept peacefully.

And Sophia lay there, wide awake, holding a secret so big it felt like it might crack her ribs open.

Three years later...

Sophia woke up to the violent screech of her alarm and immediately regretted being alive.

For a solid thirty seconds, she stayed face-down on her bed, debating whether graduating was truly worth this level of suffering.

Eventually, responsibility won. Barely.

She dragged herself into the shower, went through her usual routine, and dressed for the cold. A cream sweater under her khaki coat, jeans tucked into boots, and her favorite red-and-white scarf wrapped twice around her neck.

Outside, autumn had fully settled in their neighborhood.

The trees glowed burnt orange beneath a pale morning sky. Dried leaves skittered across the sidewalks whenever the wind blew. Everything smelled cold and nostalgic at the same time.

After breakfast, Sophia kissed Charlie on the head, said goodbye to her parents, and stepped onto the front porch stairs.

And waited.

It had been a habit for years—every morning, without fail.

She tucked her hands into her sleeves and stared at the leaves swirling across the pavement.

Her thoughts drifted somewhere dangerous: college. The future. Distance. The terrifying possibility that one day, she and Daniela would stop orbiting each other so naturally, until they became people who only liked each other’s posts from a distance.

Her chest ached at the thought.

Before she could spiral further, a loud engine roared down the street, followed by an obnoxious honk.

Her lips curled. There she was.

A black scooter rolled to a stop by the curb. Daniela pulled off her helmet, and a cascade of blonde curls spilled free, catching the morning light. She had dyed them during her freshman year, after a season of quiet insecurity over her natural dark curls and a restless desire to become someone new—or at least feel like she could. Now, those golden strands framed a grin that spread easily across her face, bright and familiar as ever.

“You’re late,” Sophia called out, standing.

Daniela tossed her the spare helmet effortlessly.

“Good things take time,” she said smugly. “That’s why I’m always late.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “That logic is genuinely concerning.”

“And yet you wait for me every morning.”

“That’s because I fear for public safety when you drive alone.”

Daniela gasped dramatically. “Wow. Hurtful.”

After their usual back-and-forth, Sophia climbed onto the backseat and wrapped her arms around Daniela’s waist automatically.

For a split second, Daniela went still.

Sophia felt it—something small, a hitch in her breathing beneath the layers of sweater and scarf.

Then Daniela exhaled shakily. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” Sophia answered quickly. Maybe she imagined it.

The scooter sped through sleepy autumn streets. Wind pushed against her cheeks, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. She leaned lightly against Daniela’s back, watching the scenery blur. Golden leaves. Fogged windows. People clutching coffee cups like life rafts.

And Daniela.

Sophia stole a glance at the side mirror. Daniela’s reflection caught her briefly, curls flying, smile at something ahead on the road. She looked so effortless, so unconcerned. Sophia could spend hours staring and still not get tired.

Suddenly—

“Oh, look who finally woke up!” Daniela shouted.

Sophia turned. Manon was climbing into her car nearby.

“YOU BETTER NOT BE LATE TODAY!” both Sophia and Daniela yelled in unison.

Manon rolled down her window just enough to flip them off. “You two act like a married couple!”

Sophia nearly choked. Daniela barked out a laugh beside her.

As the scooter slowed near a stoplight, Sophia noticed Daniela glance at her through the mirror. Their eyes met briefly. Daniela looked away first.

Sophia’s heartbeat stumbled.

Weird.

Trying to ignore it, she leaned forward and rested her head lightly against Daniela’s shoulder, closing her eyes. Just for a second. Long enough to pretend nothing was changing.

Moments never lasted long enough anymore.

Soon, the familiar school building appeared.

Their last week.

Sophia climbed off the scooter once they parked, removing her helmet and handing it back carefully. Their fingers brushed. Daniela’s hand twitched slightly.

Sophia noticed.

Daniela opened her mouth. “Hey, do you maybe want to walk with me to—”

“Daniela!” A voice cut through the parking lot.

Monty.

He slung his arm around Daniela and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Daniela smiled, but Sophia noticed it didn’t reach her wide eyes—she looked surprised.

Daniela was technically seeing someone. Not officially, more like a three-month-long “what are we?” situation.

Daniela had dated before, but usually relationships lasted months—the longest being six or seven months back in freshman and sophomore year. Then junior year hit, and she had suddenly stopped seeing anyone. Until now. Until Monty. A freaking sleazy asswipe, according to Sophia.

Monty was your typical football athlete: filthy rich, popular, apparently talented at lifting weights and nothing else, with maybe two percent of kindness buried somewhere deep (Sophia’s professional assessment). The rest? A textbook douche. Sophia already knew you’d see why soon enough.

“I could walk you to your class,” Monty said smoothly, not even glancing at Sophia.

Yup. Reason number one.

“Oh… um, sure. But Sophia—” Daniela hesitated.

“No, you go ahead. I’ll be fine,” Sophia cut in firmly.

“See? Let’s go?” Monty repeated, with a grin like he was winning at life.

Reason number two.

“O-okay… I’ll see you around, Fifi,” Daniela said quietly, and turned to walk beside Monty. Her arms remained stiff at her sides, her posture oddly tense compared to her usual fluid movements.

“Bye, Aliyah!” Monty called, flashing a peace sign and finally glancing at Sophia for half a second.

“Wanker,” Sophia muttered under her breath.

Reason number three, confirmed.

Luckily, Sophia made it to English class just before the final bell rang.

Barely.

She slipped into an empty seat somewhere in the middle row, breathing a little harder than necessary as she pulled her notebook from her bag.

A second later, Daniela and Monty entered behind her.

Unfortunately.

Sophia didn’t even need to turn around to know Monty had sat beside Daniela. She could hear him already, voice low and smug, saying something that made Daniela groan under her breath.

Sophia opened her notebook with more aggression than needed.

At the front of the room stood Mr. Morris, their ancient English professor who dressed like he personally exchanged letters with Shakespeare.

Nobody knew his real age.

There were rumors he had taught during several wars.

Maybe even invented essays as punishment for mankind.

Today, he paced slowly in front of the board, one hand behind his back, the other holding a piece of chalk like a weapon.

“Human flaws,” he said dramatically, adjusting his glasses. “The backbone of storytelling. Pride. Greed. Vanity. Sloth. Tardiness—”

His eyes lifted pointedly toward the class.

“—which several of you seem determined to embody daily.”

A few students snickered.

Manon’s seat was empty.

Suspicious timing.

Mr. Morris sighed deeply, like a disappointed Victorian father staring out a rainy window.

“Now then,” he continued. “Why do authors repeatedly return to these moral traits? What purpose do they serve beyond merely creating conflict?”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The kind of silence where everyone suddenly became fascinated by their notebooks.

A guy near the window pretended to read his notes like his life depended on it.

Someone coughed with the desperation of a person trying to become invisible.

Sophia stared down at her notebook.

Eye contact was a trap.

Behind her, Monty whispered something to Daniela.

Daniela hissed back, “Shut up, I’m listening.”

Mr. Morris immediately looked up. “Mr. Montgomery.”

Sophia almost smiled.

Almost.

Monty straightened in his seat. “Yeah?”

“Since you appear eager to contribute,” Mr. Morris said calmly, “perhaps you’d like to answer.”

A pause.

Then Monty, with the confidence of a man who had never once feared consequences, said, “Uh… because people like drama?”

The classroom exploded into laughter.

Someone actually slapped their desk.

Monty grinned proudly, like he had just saved literature.

Sophia didn’t laugh.

Mostly because she was listening for Daniela.

And there it was.

Nothing.

No giggle.

No laugh.

No amused little breath.

Daniela was quiet.

Sophia frowned slightly.

That was weird.

Daniela laughed at almost everything. She once laughed for three minutes because Sophia accidentally called a croissant “bread with ambition.”

But not now.

Not at Monty.

Mr. Morris pinched the bridge of his nose.

“An oversimplification bordering on tragedy,” he muttered.

For some reason Sophia still couldn’t explain, her hand lifted.

Immediately, she regretted it.

Mr. Morris blinked, as though a quiet student volunteering was rarer than a solar eclipse. “Yes, Ms. Laforteza?”

Sophia sat straighter.

Her heart began beating annoyingly fast.

“Authors use moral traits because they make characters human,” she said carefully. “Flaws create tension, but they also reveal motivation. They show what a character wants, what they fear, and what they’re willing to lose. Sometimes a weakness becomes the thing that pushes the story forward.”

She paused.

Then added, quieter, “Or the thing that destroys them.”

The room went still.

Even Monty stopped making noise, which Sophia considered a small academic miracle.

Mr. Morris stared at her for a moment before slowly nodding. “Excellent.”

A few students clapped.

Then others joined in, mostly because teenagers were deeply vulnerable to social pressure.

Sophia felt heat crawl up her neck.

She looked down quickly, pretending to fix the corner of her notebook.

But instinctively, stupidly, helplessly, she glanced behind her.

Daniela was looking at her.

Not just looking.

Smiling.

Like Sophia had personally discovered fire.

Then Daniela whistled softly and clapped louder than everyone else, eyes bright with unmistakable pride.

Sophia’s stomach flipped so hard it probably deserved medical attention.

Stop looking at me like that.

You’ll kill me.

Right on cue, the classroom door burst open.

Manon stumbled inside looking personally victimized by the universe.

Her hair was messy, one boot was untied, and she held an iced coffee like it had carried her through war.

Mr. Morris closed his eyes. “Ms. Bannerman.”

Manon placed a hand on her chest, still catching her breath. “Technically,” she said, “I’m only emotionally late.”

The class burst into laughter.

Mr. Morris sighed.

It was not a normal sigh.

It was the sigh of a man who had once believed in education and now regretted it.

“With your timing,” he said, folding his hands, “perhaps you can interpret today’s quote for the class.”

Manon froze.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“In front of everyone?”

“That is generally how a class works.”

Someone snorted.

Mr. Morris turned to the board and wrote in large, elegant letters:

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Manon squinted at the quote.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Sophia watched her with genuine concern.

Finally, Manon nodded like she had just cracked the secrets of the universe.

“I think it means life is horrible,” she said seriously, “but sometimes you still romanticize it because otherwise you’d lose your mind.”

The room went silent.

Manon lifted her iced coffee slightly.

“Also, my car ran out of gas this morning, so personally, I am the gutter.”

The class erupted again.

Even Mr. Morris looked momentarily impressed, though he seemed deeply offended by his own approval.

“Hm,” he said. “Crude delivery. Surprisingly valid interpretation.”

Manon smiled proudly. “Thank you. I’ve suffered enough today to understand poetry.”

“Sit down before I change my mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

Manon collapsed into an empty seat as if she had just returned from battle.

Sophia shook her head, fighting a smile.

A few minutes later, the bell rang.

The room instantly erupted into movement. Chairs scraped against the floor. Bags zipped shut. People talked over one another like they had been held hostage by silence.

Sophia packed her things slowly.

Behind her, Daniela laughed softly at something Manon whispered.

And despite everything—

Monty.

College.

The future.

The terrifying ache living beneath Sophia’s ribs.

That sound still felt like home.

Which was exactly the problem.

The days blurred together after that.

Too fast.

Every sunrise felt like a countdown Sophia didn’t ask for.

Soon enough, she found herself back in the library during her part-time shift, quietly organizing returned books alongside Yoonchae.

The library had become one of Sophia’s favorite places over the years. It smelled like paper, dust, old coffee, and silence—the kind of silence that felt comforting rather than lonely.

Today’s tasks involved sorting unused books, fixing crooked shelves, checking circulation records, and trying not to lose their minds over the printer, which seemed to harbor a personal vendetta.

Yoonchae scanned a stack of returns while Sophia sat behind the circulation desk, printing someone’s manuscript.

The printer groaned ominously.

“Don’t start with me today,” Sophia muttered.

Beside her, Yoonchae snorted. “You talk to machines like they personally wronged you.”

“They have,” Sophia replied, eyes narrowed.

Yoonchae hummed, stamping return dates onto books.

“So. Saturday’s game,” she said casually.

Sophia groaned instantly. “Must we discuss it?”

“Yes,” Yoonchae said calmly. “Because Daniela’s cheering.”

Sophia’s expression softened automatically. Then immediately hardened again.

“And Monty’s playing,” Yoonchae added.

“There it is.”

Sophia jabbed at the printer settings, like it personally embodied Monty.

“He’s not even good at football,” she muttered.

“He’s literally the captain,” Yoonchae pointed out.

“That means nothing to me.”

Yoonchae laughed quietly, and the printer beeped angrily in protest.

“See? Even technology hates him,” Sophia said.

Before Yoonchae could respond, movement near the counter caught Sophia’s attention.

A familiar hardcover rested there. Atonement by Ian McEwan.

Sophia blinked.

Then she looked up.

Daniela stood on the other side of the desk.

Her eyes were red—not dramatically crying red, but emotionally raw and trying desperately to pretend otherwise.

Sophia’s heart folded in half.

“Oh, Dani,” she said softly, lips already pouting.

Daniela pointed a warning finger at her immediately. “You are not making me watch that movie.”

Sophia nearly laughed.

“You’d actually enjoy it,” she teased.

“No.”

“It’s less painful than the book.”

“That is a lie.”

Sophia grinned. “Okay, maybe slightly less painful.”

Daniela groaned dramatically and leaned against the counter. “I trusted you.”

“You’ll survive,” Sophia said gently. “And I’ll be the best date ever during our movie night.”

The word date escaped her lips, and Sophia’s brain short-circuited briefly.

Daniela smiled anyway—a soft, sleepy kind of smile, followed by a tiny giggle that made Sophia want to melt into the floor.

Daniela sighed. “Pretty sure I would die of heartbreak."

“I’ll write your eulogy personally.”

“I expect flowers too.”

“Obviously.”

Daniela laughed quietly, and for a moment, everything felt easy.

Warm library lights.

Daniela standing there.

Their little bubble of conversation.

Then—

“Hey, babe.”

Sophia’s mood died instantly.

Monty appeared beside Daniela like a curse accidentally summoned.

Sophia resisted the urge to hiss.

Monty frowned slightly when he noticed Daniela’s face.

“What happened?” he asked.

Daniela rubbed her eyes quickly. “Nothing. I think I just got allergies.”

Sophia almost rolled her eyes into another dimension. Allergies. Sure.

Monty immediately touched Daniela’s forehead, conducting a clearly unnecessary medical examination.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s sit down for a bit.”

Daniela glanced at Sophia for half a second before nodding reluctantly.

Monty guided her toward the couches near the side of the library.

Sophia watched them go, jaw tightening slightly.

Her nose flared.

Beside her, Yoonchae casually flipped another page.

“Jeez,” she murmured. “Dani really hates that guy.”

Sophia’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

Yoonchae blinked innocently. “Nothing.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

She turned toward the printer.

“Oh, for the love of—”

The manuscript had been violently eaten halfway through printing.

Paper jam.

Of course.

Sophia closed her eyes slowly.

“Stupid printer.”

The next morning, Sophia found herself trapped in chemistry lab at eight a.m., which she considered a personal violation of human rights.

She stood beside Lara at their station, safety goggles perched awkwardly over her eyes, making everybody look vaguely ridiculous while measuring chemicals with painful precision.

The lab smelled of rubbing alcohol, burnt metal, and stress.

Sophia scribbled calculations into her notebook while Lara worked with the terrifying calmness of someone who genuinely enjoyed chemistry—an unsettling behavior, honestly.

Around them, students moved between stations while their professor lectured about chemical reactions and “proper safety precautions,” which inevitably meant someone would almost explode something within the hour.

Sophia adjusted her gloves and nearly jumped out of her skin when Lara leaned in and whispered:

“Your lover has been staring at you for like fifteen minutes.”

Sophia choked on her own saliva. “Jesus, what now?”

Lara subtly tilted her head. Sophia followed her gaze.

Daniela stood by her lab station, test tube in hand, eyes fixed on Sophia.

They met—just for a heartbeat—and then Daniela quickly averted her gaze, pretending to focus on her worksheet.

Weird. Very weird.

“Well?” Lara prompted.

“Back to business, Raj,” Sophia muttered, trying to sound normal.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“When are you finally going to tell her?”

Sophia nearly dropped her graduated cylinder. “Never,” she said instantly.

Lara gave her a long look. “You’re exhausting.”

“I’m surviving,” Sophia replied.

“You’ve been ‘surviving’ for years.”

Sophia ignored her aggressively, returning to her molarity calculations.

Unfortunately, peace was a myth.

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Monty called across the room.

Both Sophia and Lara looked up simultaneously.

“Uh oh,” Lara muttered.

Monty stood beside Daniela, holding an unlabeled bottle with the confidence of a man about to cause catastrophe.

“Monty, I don’t think you’re supposed to mix—” Daniela warned.

Too late.

He poured it directly into her beaker.

For one terrifying second, nothing happened.

Then the mixture fizzed violently, gray-green and threatening.

“Oh my God,” Sophia whispered.

“That’s going to explode,” Lara cursed.

Sophia didn’t hesitate. She lunged, yanking Daniela backward off her stool just as—

BOOM.

Glass shattered, smoke puffed upward, and students screamed dramatically.

Monty froze. “Oh.”

Sophia still held Daniela close, heart pounding violently.

Daniela stared at the wreckage, eyes wide, while their professor looked seconds from cardiac arrest.

“What… did you do?” he asked.

Monty raised his hands defensively. “In my defense—”

Lara marched over, smacking him across the head with her pencil case.

“OW!” he yelped.

“You absolute moron! You nearly blew Daniela up!”

“I said in my defense—”

Lara smacked him again, harder. Monty wisely did nothing. Lara had once been his ex, and Sophia guessed he regretted underestimating her.

Meanwhile, Daniela finally looked up at Sophia.

Really looked at her.

Sophia realized her hands were still gripping Daniela’s waist—close. Too close.

Daniela’s breathing hitched slightly. Sophia pulled away immediately.

“Sorry,” she blurted.

Daniela blinked, then whispered softly: “No… thank you.”

And there it was again—that look Sophia couldn’t quite understand lately. Warm, nervous, almost as if Daniela wanted to say something but kept swallowing it down.

Sophia’s stomach twisted.

Across the room, Lara watched knowingly, narrowing her eyes.

Sophia glared.

Lara only smiled.

Saturday arrived faster than Sophia wanted.

Everything lately did.

One minute it was Monday, and the next she was inside the photography darkroom with camera straps hanging around her neck while Megan dramatically complained about chemical stains on her sleeves.

The room smelled faintly of film solution, paper, and coffee somebody definitely forgot hours ago.

Several photographs soaked gently in trays nearby.

Some were Megan’s.

Most were Sophia’s.

And unfortunately for Sophia’s dignity, almost all of hers involved Daniela somehow.

Megan held up one photo toward the light suspiciously.

Another Daniela picture.

“Wow,” she muttered. “Stalker much?”

Sophia barely looked up from adjusting her camera lens.

“The school literally asked for cheer photos.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s journalism, Megan. Very professional.”

Megan snorted loudly.

Sophia rolled her eyes while transferring files onto her laptop.

“Don’t start with me. You have approximately six hundred candid photos of Yoonchae.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Megan opened her mouth.

Paused.

Then pointed dramatically. “Because she’s adorable.”

Sophia stared at her blankly.

“Oh, so when you do it, it’s romance. But when I do it, I belong on a watchlist.”

“Exactly.”

Sophia scoffed.

Megan grinned knowingly while flipping through more printed shots.

“You know,” she said casually, “it’s actually kind of beautiful. Your undying devotion to your best friend.”

Sophia made a sound somewhere between a choke and a dying cough. “Please never phrase it like that again.”

Megan only laughed harder.

Soon enough, they gathered their equipment and headed toward the football field for the final game of the season.

Shockingly, the weather was nice.

The autumn sun blazed brightly overhead, warming the bleachers just enough to make the cold tolerable. Students crowded the stands wearing school colors while teachers, parents, and relatives filled the rows with loud conversations and even louder school spirit.

Sophia immediately spotted her family.

Her mother Carla waved enthusiastically the second she saw her while Godfrey called out her name dramatically like she was entering a boxing ring.

Nearby sat the Avanzinis along with several relatives, already armed with banners and enough energy to power the entire stadium.

Sophia smiled despite herself and waved back.

Above them, Yoonchae and Megan had somehow ended up sitting beside Manon.

Correction:

Yoonchae was sitting peacefully.

Manon was screaming like she’d been possessed by school spirit itself.

Yoonchae covered one ear tiredly.

Megan stared at her with so much affection it was genuinely disgusting.

Sophia nudged her lightly while lifting her camera. “Hey. Pspsps.”

Megan blinked. “What?”

“She’s not the main event.”

Megan sighed dreamily anyway. “She’s really adorable, isn’t she? I wish I could tape Manon’s mouth shut sometimes.”

Sophia laughed.

But the sound caught in her throat when the announcer’s voice boomed across the field.

“And now—our cheer squad!”

The crowd erupted immediately.

Sophia instinctively lifted her camera.

Then she saw Daniela —and Lara, right beside her.

Her blonde curls bounced in a high ponytail, ribbons snapping with every motion. The sunlight hit her just so, highlighting the confident grip on her pom-poms, the precise sway in her movements.

It was unfair to everyone else present.

Sophia’s heartbeat went rogue, her lens trembling.

The music started, and the squad erupted into motion—flips, somersaults, perfect synchronization. Lara’s hair was tied back neatly, her expression fierce and focused as she executed every stunt with precision and confidence.

The crowd roared, but Sophia barely heard anything over the thrum of her own chest.

Because Daniela looked so… alive. Bright. Fierce.

Mid-routine, Daniela glanced toward the bleachers. Toward Sophia.

Their eyes met.

Not a big, performative smile. A small, real one.

Sophia almost forgot how to press the shutter.

By the final stunt, the entire stadium held its breath. Daniela landed flawlessly.

The crowd erupted. Sophia snapped photo after photo, her focus completely absorbed by Daniela.

Megan would definitely have opinions later.

After the performances ended and the football game finally started, Sophia and Megan returned to the bleachers carrying their cameras. This time, Lara joined them, brushing past the chaos of students and finding her place among their friend group.

They squeezed beside Yoonchae and Manon while the Lafortezas and Avanzinis continued aggressively supporting the school like their lives depended on it.

The game itself was chaos.

People yelling.

Cheering.

Players crashing into each other dramatically.

And Monty—

being Monty.

Every five minutes he somehow found time to wave toward Daniela or shout something obnoxious across the field whenever he scored.

At one point he literally pointed at her after a touchdown.

The crowd around them cheered loudly.

Except for the Avanzinis. Who looked visibly unconvinced.

Sophia’s parents looked more confused than supportive.

Beside Sophia, Manon physically recoiled.

“Oh, that’s nauseating,” she muttered.

Yoonchae nodded solemnly. “Douche behavior.”

Megan made a gagging noise.

Sophia crossed her arms tightly.

Then she looked toward Daniela.

She smiled back at Monty automatically—but her eyes betrayed her. The corners of her mouth twitched, almost like a frown was fighting its way underneath.

Sophia noticed immediately.

Finally, the game ended. Their school won. The stadium erupted. Students swarmed the sidelines; teammates tackled each other dramatically; the marching band nearly deafened everyone.

Monty ran straight toward Daniela, grinning like a hero returning from war, reaching for a celebratory kiss.

But Daniela slipped away.

Sophia blinked.

She ran toward the bleachers instead, straight for them. Before Sophia could react, Daniela wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close with a strength that left her breathless.

“You did amazing,” Sophia whispered, pressing against her. “Seriously… the cheer routine. You killed it.”

Daniela exhaled, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Thanks… but you know what?”

Sophia tilted her head. “What?”

Daniela grinned mischievously. “I changed my mind. You’re coming with me to movie night—at my house.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Wait—you mean me? As your… date?”

Daniela’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. “Exactly. You. My official movie night date.”

Sophia arched an eyebrow. “Does that include Atonement?”

Daniela’s gaze sharpened, locking with Sophia’s. Their eyes held for a heartbeat longer than natural.

“If I’m ever going to cry,” Daniela whispered, voice soft now, “at least I’ll have you right there beside me.”

Sophia’s chest tightened. Her breath caught, and for a fleeting, reckless second, she allowed herself to memorize the warmth of Daniela, the way her body felt against hers.

Behind them, Megan, Yoonchae, Manon, and now Lara watched silently.

“Finally,” Manon shouted, jumping slightly. “We’re officially cheering for the right person!”

Megan’s mouth went wide—then she quickly covered it with her hand, stifling laughter.

Yoonchae giggled softly, shaking her head.

Sophia, still holding Daniela in a careful, deliberate hug, smiled quietly.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” she murmured.

Daniela laughed softly against her shoulder. “You already are.”

Manon, unable to contain herself, shouted again, “Go, Dani!”

And this time, Megan and Lara joined in without objection, clapping and cheering loudly alongside Yoonchae.

Sophia’s heart ached in the best way possible. Amidst the chaos of school spirit, Monty, and the crowd, this moment—the teasing, the promise, the warmth—felt like the only thing that truly mattered.

Later that day, Megan texted in the group chat: there was a party at Monty’s house at 7 p.m. to celebrate the game—and also to celebrate the upcoming graduation.

Sophia and Daniela were in Sophia’s bedroom at 5:30 p.m., readying themselves for the party. Sophia had never been a fan of parties, but Daniela insisted she come.

“It’s the last one,” Daniela said.

She sounded bright. Excited.

But there was something underneath it.

Something Sophia couldn't quite name.

The kind of thing that made her pause for a second before brushing it off.

They had originally planned to watch Atonement at Daniela's house.

Cry together. Complain together.

And inevitably spend the rest of the evening debating whether Briony deserved forgiveness.

Daniela always argued yes.

Sophia always argued no.

Not because Sophia lacked empathy.

But because if somebody ruined Daniela's life the way Briony ruined Cecilia's and Robbie's, Sophia was fairly certain she'd end up on a government watchlist.

Instead, Megan's text arrived.

Then Daniela mentioned Monty had invited her personally.

And suddenly their plans disappeared.

Sophia hated how often that happened lately.

Not because Daniela chose Monty.

Well.

Maybe a little.

But mostly because it felt like the world was suddenly about Monty whenever Daniela existed.

Daniela was currently rummaging through both her closet and Sophia’s closet like a raccoon searching for treasure.

“I want to do something different,” Daniela announced.

Those words should have terrified Sophia.

And apparently, they should have.

Because twenty minutes later, Sophia’s gloved hands were stained with dark brown hair dye while Daniela locked herself inside the bathroom.

The entire room smelled aggressively chemical.

Sophia stared at the mess on the sink.

“This is how people get poisoned,” she muttered, scrubbing dye from the counter with a towel she was ninety percent sure Carla liked.

From inside the bathroom, Daniela called, “Beauty requires sacrifice!”

“This towel did not consent!”

Daniela laughed.

Sophia tried very hard not to smile.

Then the bathroom door opened.

After cleaning the mess, Sophia turned around—and nearly froze.

For a second—she was six years old again.

Standing in her front yard.

Holding a flower bracelet she was not supposed to be making.

Watching a girl with dark curls wave a stuffed puppy at her from across the street.

Daniela stood in the doorway quietly.

The blonde curls were gone.

Dark brown waves framed her face instead.

Familiar in a way that reached back through years Sophia thought she had safely folded away.

Daniela looked nervous.

Which was wrong.

Daniela did not do nervous.

Daniela did dramatic. Daniela did confident. Daniela did “I’m wearing sunglasses indoors because I’m mysterious now.”

But nervous?

That made Sophia’s chest hurt.

Daniela’s gaze met hers, quietly observing.

“Is it that bad?” Daniela whispered to herself, avoiding Sophia’s eyes.

“You still look beautiful,” Sophia said immediately.

Daniela’s eyes glimmered for a fraction of a second before she changed the topic. “Okay… help me choose. Which dress?”

She held up two dresses.

One was light blue.

Pretty. Soft. Elegant.

The kind of dress that looked like it belonged in a garden party where everyone drank lemonade and pretended not to gossip.

The second was leopard print.

Short.

Dangerous.

The kind of dress Sophia personally believed should come with a warning label and possibly a parental advisory.

Heat crawled up her neck.

She pointed to the second one. “This one.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Sophia regretted everything. "Yep."

"Interesting."

"Don't make it weird."

"You made it weird."

Daniela disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready, leaving Sophia to contemplate the party outfit.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened again.

And Sophia immediately knew she had made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

When Daniela emerged, she was wearing a sultry animal-print slip dress with black lace at the bust, a deep V-neckline, thin straps, and a fitted silhouette that emphasized her curves. The dress had a daring high side slit. Accessories completed the look: gold hoop earrings, a thin gold choker, gold bangles, and subtle, natural glam makeup with defined eyes and glossy lips.

Sophia could hardly breathe. Daniela caught her staring and smiled.

Everything about her looked unfair.

Like the universe had designed Daniela specifically to destroy Sophia’s peace.

“Monty would love your outfit,” Sophia said, half-teasing.

Daniela’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “I know. What about you? Don’t tell me you’re going to wear that for your first and last party?” She pointed at Sophia’s pants and hoodie.

“Why? What’s wrong with these?” Sophia asked.

Daniela laughed.

Actually laughed.

"Fifi."

"What?"

"You look like you're about to do my taxes."

Sophia gasped dramatically. "I happen to look fantastic."

"You look comfortable."

"Thank you."

"That's not a compliment."

"You're impossible."

"No, you're impossible."

Daniela crossed the room and immediately began attacking Sophia's closet.

"No."

"Dani."

"No."

"Daniela."

"No."

Five minutes later Sophia found herself shoved inside the bathroom with clothes she'd never voluntarily wear.

Outside, Daniela collapsed onto the bed and grabbed her phone.

A text from Monty appeared.

can't wait to see you tonight ;)

Another followed.

wearing something pretty for me?

Daniela frowned and stared at the messages. She didn’t reply.

Instead, she opened the girls' group chat.

Megan was arguing with Manon.

Lara was threatening violence.

Yoonchae was trying to restore peace like a tired diplomat.

Everything felt normal there.

A soft nudge touched her arm.

Charlie.

Daniela smiled immediately. “There he is.”

Charlie, slow and careful with his old joints, climbed beside her. His muzzle was almost entirely gray now, and his legs shook slightly as he settled against her thigh.

Daniela swallowed hard.

She hated noticing these things. Every gray hair, every tremble in his steps—it was a reminder of how fast time moved. Charlie wasn’t supposed to get old. Neither were they.

She lifted him gently into her lap. He rested there happily, warm and familiar. A soft weight that grounded her.

“You’re still my favorite boy,” Daniela whispered, scratching behind his ears.

Charlie thumped his tail weakly in response.

The bathroom door creaked. Daniela looked up—and froze.

Sophia stood there awkwardly in the doorway. Hair down, casual yet magnetic. A light beige cropped shirt with a cat print. High-waisted black shorts. A decorative belt with silver accents. Playful. Simple. Somehow perfect.

Daniela’s brain stalled completely.

Sophia shifted nervously. “That bad?”

“What?”

“The outfit.”

“No,” Daniela said, softly, too fast, almost too quiet.

Sophia blinked.

Daniela’s cheeks warmed.

“No,” she repeated, softer this time. “You look…”

The word lodged in her throat.

Sophia walked over and sat beside her. Too close. Too intimate.

Charlie, sensing the tension, abandoned Daniela immediately and nestled against Sophia.

Daniela stared at him, incredulous.

“Wow. Loyalty means nothing to you,” she muttered.

Sophia scratched behind Charlie’s ears, smiling quietly. “I'm his mom, after all.”

Daniela glanced at her. That stupid smile. That quiet, pretty smile.

“If I knew you were going to dress like this for parties,” Daniela murmured, “I would've spent the last few years finding excuses to take you to every single one.”

Sophia laughed softly.

“You look beautiful,” Daniela said before she could stop herself.

Sophia looked up.

Daniela immediately panicked. “Not as beautiful as you were when you cried after Charlie ate the cupcake you made for me.”

Sophia groaned.

“There she is.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are not.”

“I am.”

Daniela laughed again.

Sophia thought she could listen to that laugh forever. And suddenly, that thought scared her. Because forever was starting to feel shorter than it used to.

Daniela looked away first.

“Want me to do your make-up?,” she said quietly.

Sophia’s lips curved. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I’m polite.”

Daniela carefully set Charlie on the bed, then knelt in front of Sophia. She spread brushes, glosses, and palettes across the blanket with methodical precision.

The room became heavy with quiet. Not awkward. Heavy in that tender, electric way that made Sophia’s pulse climb.

Daniela cupped Sophia’s face, steadying it with a gentle pressure. Sophia’s skin was warm beneath her fingers, too warm—or maybe Daniela’s hands were just cold.

“Close your eyes,” Daniela whispered.

Sophia obeyed.

The brush moved over her skin. A light touch of color here, a shimmer there. Nothing excessive—Sophia already looked beautiful in a way that made extra effort almost insulting.

Every so often Sophia giggled when the brush tickled, and Daniela had to fight her own smile.

“Stop moving,” Daniela murmured.

“I can’t help it.”

“You’re impossible to work with.”

“I’m a difficult canvas.”

“You’re a menace.”

Sophia opened one eye. “You love me.”

Daniela froze. Half a second. But it happened.

Sophia noticed.

Daniela forced herself to keep moving.

“Unfortunately,” she murmured, “yes.”

Sophia smiled and closed her eye again.

Daniela leaned closer to apply a soft pink lipstick. Every motion was deliberate, careful. Too careful. Her eyes never left Sophia’s lips, and Sophia’s breathing grew embarrassingly loud in her ears.

“Smack your lips,” Daniela whispered.

Sophia obeyed again.

Then Daniela reached for the gloss, brushing her lower lip once… twice…

Sophia closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment.

Daniela stopped. Her hand hovered, still touching Sophia’s lips. The world shrank, and for a heartbeat, time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Daniela looked up.

Sophia opened her eyes.

Their gazes locked. Hazel against brown. Too close. Too quiet. Too much.

A notification suddenly lit Sophia’s phone. Both flinched.

“It’s Yoonchae,” Sophia whispered, voice tight. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”

Daniela nodded and stood too fast. “Right. Good. Five minutes. Great.”

Sophia looked away, cheeks flushed.

Daniela adjusted her rimless vintage glasses, already perfect, and whispered, “There. Much better.”

Sophia touched the frames. “You’re accessorizing me now?”

“Yes.”

“Am I a doll?”

“A very stubborn one.”

Before Sophia could answer, honks blared from outside.

Manon. Naturally.

“At least the car is here,” Daniela said, peering out the window.

Sophia grabbed her jacket.

“Does it have gas?”

Another honk.

Manon shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear: “FULL TANK, LOSERS!”

They laughed, a soft, shared sound.

Minutes later, they were in Manon’s car, squeezed together with Megan, Yoonchae, and Lara, heading toward Monty’s party. Sophia looked out the window as the neighborhood blurred past.

“Wait… your hair?” Megan suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening.

“What did you do?” Yoonchae added, leaning closer.

Lara gasped softly. “Oh wow. That’s… completely new. Totally unexpected!”

Even Manon, who was usually unflappable, blinked twice. “You… you changed it? And you didn’t even tell us?”

Daniela looked at each of them, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “I wanted a change,” she said quietly.

“Change? You mean stunning, bold, and absolutely gorgeous,” Megan corrected, grinning.

Yoonchae nodded vigorously. “Seriously, it’s perfect. Dark brown totally suits you.”

Lara leaned back, clearly impressed. “Wow. I did not see that coming.”

Manon shook her head, still caught off guard. “I’m… I’m speechless. You look amazing, Dani.”

Daniela’s eyes softened as she glanced at Sophia. Her fingers brushed against hers lightly. Sophia’s chest warmed at the small, intimate touch.

Daniela’s knee brushed hers once.

Neither moved away.

The moment they stepped inside Monty’s house, Sophia knew she had made a terrible mistake.

There were people everywhere.

Everywhere.

The living room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with students. Music pulsed so loud Sophia could feel the bass vibrating in her ribs. Colored lights flashed across the ceiling while clusters of seniors crowded tables, couches, staircases—basically every available surface.

Someone immediately bumped into her shoulder.

Sophia sighed. “Five minutes,” she muttered.

“What?” Daniela shouted over the music.

“I’m giving this five minutes before I retreat to the bathroom.”

Daniela laughed and grabbed her wrist before she could disappear. “Oh no, you don’t.”

“Dani—”

“You’re having fun tonight.”

“That sounds threatening.”

“It is.”

And somehow, thirty minutes later, Sophia was actually having fun. Which felt illegal.

The six of them stuck together most of the night. Manon danced like she was possessed. Lara seemed to know every song ever produced. Megan spent suspicious amounts of time looking at Yoonchae. Yoonchae spent suspicious amounts of time pretending not to notice.

And Daniela—Daniela practically dragged Sophia into the center of the crowd.

Sophia froze for a moment. Not because of the dancing, not because of the noise, but because she realized dozens of eyes were on her. Whispers floated past her ears: “Who’s she?” “She’s… hot.” “Wow.”

Her cheeks flamed. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could disappear into the floorboards.

Then Daniela’s arms slipped around her waist from behind.

Frozen. Breath caught.

“Relax,” Daniela whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Sophia to hear over the music.

Her heartbeat thundered, and the world around her blurred—people, lights, noise—all fading behind Daniela’s warmth and presence.

Eventually, Sophia gave in. She moved with the rhythm, laughing despite herself. For the first time that night, she forgot about Monty, about the whispers, about the crowd.

They moved on to beer pong.

Which was how Sophia ended up witnessing one of the most embarrassing moments in varsity history.

Manon somehow became a monster.

Nobody knew where her talent came from.

Not even Manon.

One by one she destroyed every opponent put in front of her.

Sophia, Yoonchae, Megan, Lara, and Daniela crowded around the table cheering loudly.

The final opponent was one of the football varsity players.

A guy who had spent the entire evening bragging about how unbeatable he was.

Three minutes later he lost.

Spectacularly.

The entire room erupted.

Manon climbed onto a chair. "I AM YOUR CHAMPION!"

"Get down before you break your neck!" Yoonchae yelled.

"THE PEOPLE LOVE ME!"

"The people are concerned for your safety!"

Sophia nearly cried laughing.

Later, after several rounds of increasingly ridiculous party games, somebody brought out a bottle.

Immediately everyone groaned.

"Absolutely not," Sophia said.

"Absolutely yes," Manon replied.

And somehow the six of them found themselves sitting in a circle.

Spin the Bottle.

High school's greatest contribution to poor decision-making.

The bottle spun.

And spun.

And spun.

Landing on Megan.

Then Yoonchae.

The group immediately lost their minds.

"Oh my God."

"Oh my God."

"OH MY GOD."

Megan turned bright red.

Yoonchae looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

The challenge was simple.

Say one thing you've never told the person.

Easy.

Supposedly.

Megan opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"You know..." she started.

Everyone leaned forward.

Megan glanced at Yoonchae.

Then immediately looked away.

"You know... you're really important to me."

The room exploded.

Manon screamed.

Lara slapped the floor.

Daniela almost fell backward laughing.

Meanwhile Yoonchae looked seconds away from short-circuiting.

"THAT'S IT?" Lara shouted.

"SHUT UP."

Sophia couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this hard.

The night continued.

Later, Lara and Daniela commandeered the DJ booth. The two of them argued over playlists, laughing, teasing, and occasionally shooting sly glances at Sophia, who couldn’t stop smiling despite herself.

Sophia sipped her drink nervously, trying to stay out of the spotlight. That’s when a tall guy she hadn’t noticed before leaned in, voice casual, eyes confident.

“Hey,” he said. “I think you’re really cute. Want to go get a drink sometime?”

Sophia’s cheeks burned instantly. She opened her mouth, but when she glanced toward the DJ booth, her stomach sank.

Daniela was looking at her. Frowning. Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed.

Sophia’s mind scrambled. She gave a shaky, awkward thumbs-up, a silent “I’m fine” signal—but Daniela’s frown deepened.

Her heart hammered. Panic rose like a tide. “Uh… I—thanks, but I… I’m already seeing someone. Gotta go. Bye.”

She turned abruptly and made her way toward the bathroom, feeling every eye on her and wishing she could disappear.

Daniela stayed at the DJ booth, still watching, her expression unreadable but sharp with concern. Sophia knew, even in her hurried retreat, that Daniela had seen everything.

Sophia stayed in the bathroom for what felt like an eternity. Ten minutes of spiraling thoughts, heart pounding, cheeks burning, and her mind replaying every moment from the DJ booth incident. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to steady her breathing, but the adrenaline wouldn’t let her.

Finally, she emerged, stepping into the living room with cautious eyes.

Before she could even decide where to go, a strong, familiar hand slipped around her wrist.

“Come on,” Daniela said softly but firmly, pulling her gently toward the center of the room.

Sophia’s pulse spiked. “D-Dani…” she whispered.

“No excuses tonight,” Daniela said with a small, encouraging smile. “You’re singing.”

Sophia froze. Her knees wobbled. She’d never imagined herself performing in front of all these people—especially not while every eye was on her.

“Me? Now? Seriously?” she stammered, cheeks flaming.

Daniela leaned closer. “Trust me. You’ve got this. I’ll be right here.”

With that quiet assurance, Sophia let herself be guided to the microphone. The music started. The room hushed slightly, anticipation hanging in the air.

At first, her voice was soft, uncertain—but clear. Then, as the melody flowed, confidence and emotion took over. Her tone grew stronger, richer, each note carrying sincerity and power.

People stopped what they were doing. Whispers turned into murmurs. Eyes widened. Phones lifted.

Sophia felt it, but barely noticed. She was lost in the song, in the sound of her own voice.

And then, in the corner of her vision, she saw Daniela—arms crossed, eyes bright, lips curled in pride, watching her intently. That look, quiet but intense, made Sophia’s chest ache in the most wonderful way.

By the final verse, the room had fallen silent. The applause hit like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. People cheered, whistles blew, and a few students even jumped to their feet.

“You were incredible,” Daniela whispered when Sophia finally lowered the microphone.

Sophia’s legs nearly gave out, but Daniela was there. The smallest brush of her hand against Sophia’s back grounded her.

After a while, Sophia escaped to one of the couches near the edge of the room.

Not because she wasn't having fun.

She had.

More fun than she expected, actually.

But there were only so many people a person could tolerate before wanting to climb into a cave and never return.

The music was still loud from here, though distant enough that it no longer rattled her bones. The lights flashed red, blue, purple across the ceiling. People danced. Laughed. Shouted over each other.

Sophia sank deeper into the couch and let out a breath.

Finally. Air.

Her gaze drifted toward the hallway, where Daniela was laughing softly, talking with one of her friends.

And, mercifully, Monty was nowhere in sight. Maybe his ass is drunk as fuck somewhere, Sophia thought bitterly, forcing herself to relax.

The purple lighting from the hallway shifted, washing over Daniela in a way that made her almost unreal. The dark brown waves framed her face perfectly. Electrifiying. Dangerous. Beautiful. Sophia’s pulse hitched, a mix of excitement and vertigo coursing through her. She wasn’t drunk—barely a sip—but something about the air, the lights, Daniela, made her dizzy, unsteady, utterly vulnerable.

Their eyes met.

Immediately.

Like she'd been looking for Sophia too.

The noise of the party seemed to disappear.

Sophia smiled.

And Daniela smiled back. Wide. Open.

The same smile she'd had at six years old.

The same smile she'd had at nine while reading bedtime stories.

At fifteen while painting Sophia's nails.

At sixteen while teaching her how to drive.

At seventeen while gushing over her celebrity crushes.

Time seemed to pause.

Without realizing it.

Without thinking.

Without breathing.

Sophia stood from the couch.

Their eyes never left each other.

Sophia wanted to close the distance, to let the years of longing and unspoken words collapse into one heartbeat. Daniela moved toward her too, and for the first time that night, the world shrank to the narrow space between them. Her chest tightened. Every nerve ending tingled.

And then Monty appeared.

Sophia’s stomach dropped like a stone. He walked up with that infuriating confidence, wrapped his hands around Daniela, and kissed her.

Just like that.

Everything fractured.

The warmth of purple lights, the bass, the cheering—it all blurred. All that remained was a cold, twisting knot in Sophia’s chest. All the moments, all the tiny private glances, all the laughter and stolen touches over the years—they had felt intimate, real. And now, in one instant, it was torn away.

Sophia’s vision blurred. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t see anything but Daniela’s lips pressed against someone else.

Her heart screamed, but she had no voice.

She turned and fled. Feet pounding over the floor, away from the lights, the music, the crowd. Every step was agony, every breath jagged. Her hands shook. Her chest ached.

Not once did she glance back. Not once at Daniela, at Monty, at the laughter and chaos of the party. She swallowed hard, trying to tell herself she should be okay.

After all, Daniela had had boyfriends before. She had survived heartbreak. Sophia had survived before.

But this was different.

This time, it burned deeper.

This time, it wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the intimate knowledge of everything she had loved about Daniela, all the closeness they had shared, all the tiny electric touches, the laughter, the soft words whispered late at night, the moments no one else knew.

It wasn’t fair. And Sophia knew, somewhere deep inside, that even if she survived tonight, a piece of her would stay with Daniela, aching and unspoken, for far longer than she could endure.

After walking for what felt like hours, tears streaking her cheeks, Sophia finally found a secluded spot in a dimly lit parking lot. A closed store stall offered some semblance of privacy, and she sank to the sidewalk, letting her body fold into itself.

The tears she had been holding back spilled freely. A sob escaped before she could stop it, muffled by the crook of her knees.

God, this was pathetic.

Pathetic.

And yet, she cried anyway.

The wind cut through her, cold and sharp. The concrete beneath her pressed relentlessly against her legs. Still, she stayed there, trying to make herself smaller, trying to make the ache in her chest hurt less. Nothing worked.

Normally, she would've cared about where she was. A dark parking lot. An empty street. The possibility of someone dangerous lurking in the shadows. Every horror story she'd ever heard should've sent her running somewhere safer.

But right now, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Let there be a killer on the loose.

Let someone step out of the darkness.

The thought barely registered.

Because whatever waited in those shadows felt insignificant compared to the devastation already tearing through her chest. At least a knife, a bullet, a pair of hands around her throat—those things would hurt for a moment. This ache felt endless. It had rooted itself beneath her ribs and refused to leave, turning every breath into something painful.

For the first time in her life, her own safety felt like an afterthought.

Time slipped by. Minutes—or maybe twenty—she didn’t know.

Footsteps echoed across the empty lot.

Please… just keep walking.

But they stopped.

Silence stretched between them.

“Fifi?”

Sophia froze. That voice. Warm. Familiar. Impossible.

Her heart thudded violently, but she didn’t dare lift her gaze.

The presence beside her shifted, and a weight settled carefully onto the concrete. Daniela sat down next to her, close enough for warmth to brush against her arm, but still allowing space.

Neither of them spoke. Traffic hummed faintly somewhere in the distance. The wind rattled dead leaves across the asphalt.

Sophia hated that she could still recognize Daniela’s perfume, faint and comforting even here.

Minutes passed in silence.

Finally, Daniela’s voice broke softly.

“You left.”

“Observant.” Sophia laughed bitterly. The sound cracked halfway through.

Sophia immediately hated herself for it. Because Daniela didn’t deserve that. Or maybe she did. She didn’t know anymore.

“Everyone’s looking for you,” Daniela said quietly.

“Good luck with that,” Sophia whispered.

“Yoonchae’s threatening to file a missing person’s report.”

A watery laugh escaped Sophia despite herself. Of course she was.

Daniela rubbed her hands together nervously—a habit Sophia knew inside and out. Every tell. Every gesture. Every nervous tic. And yet, knowing it all did nothing to prepare her for this.

“Why did you leave?” Daniela asked, voice soft, almost trembling.

Sophia shut her eyes.

Because watching him kiss you felt like getting hit by a truck. Because for one stupid second I thought—

She swallowed. “I just needed air.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why are you asking if you already know?”

Daniela opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came.

Sophia felt fresh tears burn her eyes.

“Fifi—”

“You should go back.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You should.”

“I’m not.”

“Monty’s probably looking for you.”

Daniela’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

The words came out sharper than intended. Daniela stared. Sophia looked away immediately. Because if she kept looking, she would cry again.

Then—

“That’s bullshit.”

Sophia lifted her gaze. Finally.

Daniela’s eyes were red, like she had been crying too.

“What?”

“That’s bullshit.” Daniela laughed shakily, humor and heartbreak mingling.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Sophia whispered.

Daniela frowned. “Say what?”

“I’ve been trying to say it for years,” Sophia admitted finally.

Daniela’s pulse stumbled.

Sophia pressed her palms against her eyes. Groaned. “God.”

“What?”

“I’m messing this up.”

“Messing what up?”

Sophia looked at her.

The streetlight caught in Daniela’s hazel eyes. Tears balanced on her lashes, refusing to fall. The sight alone hurt.

Not because Daniela was crying.

Because Sophia had spent years learning every version of her smile and every shade of her sadness, and somehow she had still convinced herself she could survive losing her.

“I hated every boyfriend you ever liked,” Sophia blurted.

Daniela blinked. “What?”

A broken laugh escaped Sophia. “There was this guy in eighth grade.”

“Ryan?”

“Yes.”

“You hated Ryan because he was annoying.”

“No.” Sophia shook her head. “I hated Ryan because he liked you.”

The silence that followed felt endless.

Sophia couldn’t stop. Once the words started, they tumbled out uncontrollably. “Then there was Caleb.”

Daniela blinked. “Caleb?”

“I hated Caleb too. He cheated on his girlfriend—before that. Before you.”

“Oh.”

“And then there was that photographer from summer camp.”

“That was one time,” Daniela muttered.

“I know.”

“Why?”

Because the truth was ugly. Selfish. Embarrassing.

Because she wasn't supposed to feel this way about her best friend.

“I didn't want them looking at you,” Sophia whispered. “Every time someone liked you, it felt like they were taking something from me.”

Daniela's breath caught.

Sophia laughed bitterly.

“The worst part?” she said. “I didn't even understand why.”

Her voice cracked.

“I kept telling myself I was being protective. Or jealous. Or dramatic.”

Another laugh. Another failure.

“But none of those explanations ever made the feeling go away.”

Daniela's eyes shone brighter.

Sophia looked down at her trembling hands.

“I think some part of me knew,” she admitted. “Long before I was brave enough to admit it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Daniela laughed through tears.

A sound so fragile it nearly shattered Sophia.

“I hated when people flirted with you.”

Sophia froze.

Daniela wiped furiously at her face. “I hated when you talked about crushes.”

Sophia couldn't breathe.

“I hated college applications.”

“What?” Sophia asked.

Daniela laughed brokenly. “Because every acceptance letter felt like a countdown.”

Sophia's heart stopped. “A countdown to what?”

“To losing you.”

Tears came harder now, streaming freely from both of them.

Daniela shook her head, hands trembling. “I tried so hard not to…”

Sophia didn’t answer. Deep down, she already knew.

“I tried to be normal,” Daniela said finally. Sad, weary, but true.

“I’ve tried,” she whispered, voice breaking. “So many times.”

Sophia’s chest stopped. “Dani…”

“I tried at the beach.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I tried at the treehouse.” Another.

“At your birthday.” Another.

“Movie nights. School dances. Finals week. Summer vacations.” She laughed softly. “I'd be having the best day of my life, and somehow the thing that made it special was always that you were there.”

Sophia couldn’t breathe. She felt something inside her break.

Not painfully.

The way ice breaks at the end of winter.

The way something trapped finally gives way.

Daniela looked exhausted.

Like she had been carrying this alone for years.

Daniela laughed softly through her tears. “I even tried tonight.”

Tonight.

The hallway. The smile. Walking toward each other.

Sophia suddenly understood.

All of it. Every single thing.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Daniela whispered, fragile and small, her voice breaking.

“I don’t know how to tell you that every time something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. Or when something bad happens, you're the first person I look for."

Sophia’s tears fell anew.

“I don’t know how to tell you that every future I imagine has you in it.”

Daniela wiped angrily at her own tears. “I don’t know how to tell you that college scares me, because what if you’re not there?”

Sophia’s chest shattered with the weight of it all. “Dani—”

“And I don’t know how to tell you—”

Her voice broke completely.

The next words refused to come.

Daniela covered her eyes. Shaking. Trying. Failing. Trying again.

Then, finally—a whisper.

Small. Fragile. Honest.

“I don’t know how to tell you because if I say it out loud, and you don’t feel the same…” Daniela laughed through her tears. “…I lose the most important person in my life.”

Silence.

The world stopped.

Streetlights. Wind. Cars. Everything.

Sophia stared at her. At the girl she had loved since she was six.

The girl who still couldn’t say the words.

Because she was too scared.

And somehow, that hurt more than hearing them ever could.

Sophia didn't think. She didn't hesitate. She simply moved forward and wrapped Daniela in a tight, desperate hug.

Daniela clung to her immediately.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Twelve years of friendship, of almost and maybes and things left unsaid, seemed to settle around them.

Sophia felt Daniela's shoulders shaking beneath her hands.

"Hey," Sophia whispered. "I'm here."

Daniela laughed through her tears. "I know."

Slowly, their breathing steadied. The parking lot grew quiet again, save for the distant hum of traffic and the rustling of leaves across the pavement.

Sophia reached up and brushed a tear from Daniela's cheek.

Daniela closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into the familiarity of the gesture.

"You were my favorite part of everything.” Daniela’s voice trembled.

Sophia looked at her like she held all the answers.

The truth was, Daniela was looking at Sophia the same way.

Slowly, Daniela lifted a hand and brushed away the tears clinging to Sophia's cheeks. Her thumb lingered there for a moment, as though she was memorizing her.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

They had spent years talking.

Years laughing.

Years filling every silence.

And now, somehow, words felt too small.

Daniela's gaze softened.

"May I kiss you, Fi?"

Sophia’s lips trembled. Her body stiffened. Her heart threatened to burst in her chest. She was frozen, caught between disbelief and desire, between the shock of confession and the ache of wanting.

All she could hear was her own heartbeat.

Daniela waited.

Patiently.

Giving her the choice. Giving her an out. Giving her everything she had been too afraid to ask for herself.

Sophia couldn't move.

Not because she didn't want to. Because she couldn't quite believe this was real.

For a moment, uncertainty flickered across Daniela's face.

As if she thought she'd crossed a line.

As if she was preparing herself for heartbreak.

Immediately, Sophia reached for her.

The distance between them disappeared.

Daniela kissed back instantly, hands cupping Sophia’s face, their lips meeting in a tremulous, soft, but electric connection. They tasted the faint gloss on each other’s lips, the sweetness of closeness, the years of unspoken longing.

Sophia deepened the kiss instinctively. Daniela responded in kind, tilting her head, moving closer, every movement urgent, tender, desperate.

When they pulled back slightly, Daniela’s breath hitched. She pressed her forehead against Sophia’s shoulder, letting the warmth and weight of her presence ground them both.

“I never imagined this is what a kiss could feel like,” Daniela murmured softly, voice breaking.

Sophia froze. “Wait… first kiss? But—Monty—”

Daniela shook her head, a small, amused smile breaking through her tears. “I slapped him before he could. You probably misread it in the lights.”

Sophia exhaled, relief flooding her. “Even before your exes?”

Daniela nodded and giggled softly. “You’re the first in everything that matters.”

She kissed Sophia again, deeper this time, deliberate and unyielding. Her hands cupped Sophia’s face tenderly while Sophia wrapped her arms around Daniela, holding her close, feeling every heartbeat, every tremor.

Daniela reached for Sophia’s hand. “Come home with me.”

Sophia blinked. “What?”

“Not tonight,” Daniela clarified, squeezing her fingers. “Just…for the rest of my life, okay?”

Sophia nodded. “Okay.”

And for a heartbeat, the world—the streetlights, the distant traffic, the empty parking lot—ceased to exist. There was only them. Only the kiss. Only the quiet, undeniable truth of everything they had been holding back.

After that, they walked home side by side.

The night had grown colder, and neither of them had thought to bring jackets. Every now and then their shoulders brushed, neither bothering to move away.

The quiet between them wasn't awkward.

It never had been.

Not with Daniela.

Not with Sophia.

Streetlights painted long golden streaks across the pavement as they wandered through nearly empty streets. Fallen leaves crunched beneath their shoes. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A porch light flickered on and off.

Life continued around them.

Ordinary.

Unaware that the world had just shifted.

Sophia glanced over.

Daniela was already looking at her.

Caught.

Immediately, Daniela looked away.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Sophia laughed.

Daniela laughed too.

And just like that, everything felt normal again.

Or maybe not normal.

Better.

By the time they reached Sophia's neighborhood, most of the houses had already gone dark.

The familiar porch came into view.

The Santan bushes still sat beside the front steps, their flowers swaying gently in the breeze.

Daniela slowed.

Sophia noticed.

"You're staring at the flowers."

"They're still here."

"Of course they're still here."

Daniela smiled softly. "We used to make bracelets from those."

"We also used to think worms were dragons."

"They were dragons."

Sophia rolled her eyes.

Daniela looked offended.

As if she still believed it.

The sight made something warm ache inside Sophia's chest.

Because there she was.

The same girl.

Different and older and somehow entirely unchanged.

The same girl who had spent years sitting beside her in classrooms and cafeterias and waiting rooms.

The same girl who knew where Sophia kept spare blankets and which floorboards creaked and exactly how much sugar she liked in her coffee.

The same girl who had become so woven into her life that imagining a future without her felt impossible.

Once inside, they went straight to Sophia’s bedroom. Sophia lent Daniela some clothes—an oversized shirt and shorts. After freshening up, Sophia emerged in her own oversized band shirt and shorts to find Daniela sitting cross-legged on the bed. The soft glow of the childhood lamp cast stars and planets across the walls, creating a galaxy-like cocoon around them. Daniela was focused on making a flower bracelet, delicate fingers threading petals together.

Sophia watched quietly from the doorway.

Something twisted painfully in her chest.

Not sadness. Not yet.

Something closer to grief for time.

Because she suddenly understood how precious these moments were.

How temporary.

How easy it was to believe there would always be another night.

Another conversation.

Another tomorrow.

Until suddenly there wasn't.

"You know," Sophia said softly as she sat beside Daniela, "you never got any better at making those."

Daniela gasped. "Excuse you."

"It looks crooked."

"It has character."

"It looks like a flower survived a hurricane."

Daniela threw a petal at her.

Sophia laughed.

A few minutes later, Daniela finally held up her finished creation.

Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she reached out and took Sophia’s wrist, fastening the Santan bracelet around it.

"There." Daniela smiled. "It still looks better on you."

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The years seemed to fold in on themselves.

Eventually they climbed beneath the blankets.

Under the covers, Daniela curled herself into the crook of Sophia’s neck, their arms and legs tangled together in a perfect, effortless intimacy. They gazed up at the stars and planets projected across the ceiling, the room quiet except for the soft hum of their breaths.

Sophia ran her fingers gently through Daniela’s curls, careful and tender.

“Goodnight, Fifi,” Daniela whispered, her voice breaking just slightly, “I love you.”

Sophia felt her chest tighten, warmth flooding her heart. She pressed a kiss to Daniela’s temple and whispered back, “Goodnight, Dani...”

"...I love you."

And as the night ended and the stars faded from her room, the warmth of that moment lingered painfully, carrying Sophia forward to the cold reality of the airport, where she now stood watching the plane that had just taken Daniela away.

Earlier, while they were waiting for boarding, Sophia had made Daniela another Santan bracelet.

Not the last one.

She refused to call it that.

Last meant ending. Last meant final. Last meant there wouldn't be another.

And Sophia couldn't bear any of those possibilities.

So it was simply another bracelet.

One more to add to the collection of memories they had spent twelve years building together.

Twelve years.

A number that suddenly felt both impossibly large and painfully small.

Daniela had smiled when Sophia tied it around her wrist. Not just smiled.

She had turned her arm over and over, studying the tiny red flowers with the same care someone might give a priceless heirloom.

As though Sophia had handed her something irreplaceable.

As though she understood that the bracelet had never really been about flowers.

It had always been about coming back.

About promises neither of them knew how to put into words.

The boarding announcement came, a calm, automated voice drifting through the terminal.

It was routine. Forgettable.

The kind of words people ignored while checking their phones or gathering their luggage. Children complained. Travelers moved along. Life continued.

But for Sophia, those words felt cruel, like the universe had decided it was time.

Daniela stood, adjusting the strap of her bag. Sophia rose beside her, stiff and uncertain.

This was it.

The goodbye she had dreaded for months. The one she thought she could face. She wasn’t ready. Not even close. She tried to smile, tried to be strong, tried to be the person Daniela needed her to be. Daniela deserved excitement, not guilt, not tears. But Sophia’s chest ached.

Halfway to the gate, Sophia saw Daniela freeze. Her shoulders tensed, and then—she ran.

Not hurried. Not careful. Full force, straight to Sophia.

The impact nearly knocked the air from her lungs.

Sophia wrapped her arms around her immediately, holding on so tightly she briefly considered whether it was physically possible to attach Daniela to her and smuggle her onto the plane that way.

Daniela laughed through tears.

Sophia cried harder.

Eventually they pulled apart just enough to rest their foreheads together.

Eyes closed.

Breathing the same air.

Neither wanting to move.

Neither wanting the moment to end.

"You better come home to me," Sophia whispered.

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Daniela smiled.

Not the bright smile she gave everyone else.

The real one.

The one that belonged only to Sophia.

"I will." Daniela smiled softly, fragile and certain, carrying a quiet promise in her lips.

They leaned closer, hesitation thick between them.

The announcer’s last call pierced the bubble of intimacy.

Final boarding.

Neither of them moved at first.

But eventually reality won.

Slowly, painfully, their hands slipped apart.

Fingers brushing.

Lingering.

Holding on for as long as possible.

Until there was nothing left to hold.

Sophia stood there long after Daniela disappeared through the gate. She remained there even after the crowd thinned and airport staff began directing people elsewhere. Some irrational part of her kept expecting Daniela to come running back again, laughing and saying she forgot something important.

But she didn't.

Eventually Sophia found herself standing by the windows, watching the plane lift into the pale winter sky.

She watched until it became nothing more than a silver speck.

Then nothing at all.

Hours later, Sophia drove through snow-covered roads, both hands gripping the steering wheel as if holding herself together. The world outside blurred into streaks of yellow streetlights, snowflakes drifting lazily against the windshield.

The radio crackled to life.

A familiar song began playing.

One she knew far too well.

One that suddenly felt like it had crawled directly into her chest and made itself comfortable.

I see your face in my mind as I drive away,

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people,

And sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

Sophia almost turned it off. Almost. But she didn’t. She let it fill the car, let it echo through the hollow ache inside her.

Music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie,

It's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see

'Cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down,

Now I don't know what to be without you around

Tears slipped quietly down her cheeks. She laughed softly at herself, wiped them with the heel of her hand, only for more to follow.

And we know it's never simple,

Never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand,

Typical.

Daniela would've teased her relentlessly for this.

The thought made her smile despite everything.

I can't,

Breathe,

Without you,

But I have to,

By the time the song ended, the road stretched endlessly before her, disappearing into darkness and snowfall.

Sophia still didn't know what college would look like.

She didn't know how many late-night calls they would miss.

How many holidays they would spend apart.

How many airports waited for them in the years ahead.

She didn't know how difficult the distance would become once the excitement of something new faded and real life settled in.

There were a thousand things she didn't know.

What she did know was this:

For twelve years, Daniela had been the first person she wanted to tell everything to. The first face she sought in a crowd, the first voice she wanted to hear when something wonderful happened. And somehow, the first person she wanted when the world fell apart.

A few hundred miles couldn’t erase that. Time couldn’t. Life couldn’t.

As snow drifted across the windshield, Sophia realized something vital: she had spent so long fearing loss that she had forgotten to appreciate what she already had. Daniela wasn’t a chapter that had ended. She wasn’t a goodbye. She wasn’t something to leave behind.

She was simply waiting on the next page.

And for the first time since watching the plane disappear into the clouds, Sophia smiled.

Somewhere out there, beneath another winter sky, Daniela was probably missing her too.

The thought warmed her all the way home.

And in that moment, Sophia understood: love wasn’t about holding on, or fearing distance, or counting the miles. It was about presence, memory, and the quiet certainty that some people—some souls—were meant to be with you, in whatever form life allowed.

She exhaled.

And let herself hope.