51
The sun had warmed the winding path by the time Katherine and Carolina made their way toward the wellness center nestled at the edge of the retreat grounds. The roof was covered in moss, and the doorway was framed by thick wisteria vines, their purple blooms curling like lazy fingers in the breeze.
Carolina gave a dramatic sigh and stretched her arms above her head as they approached. “Girl, I need someone to snap my spine back into place. I swear, one more emotional ceremony and I’m going to need a chiropractor.”
Katherine chuckled, a soft sound, barely louder than the leaves rustling overhead. “You don’t need a chiropractor. You need to stop sleeping diagonally.”
“I sleep like a goddess in the shape of a starfish. Don’t shame me.”
Katherine smiled again, grateful for Carolina’s humor. It had carried her through more than a few sleepless nights.
Inside the massage center, the lighting was low and warm, like candlelight through amber glass. A gentle instrumental soundtrack played beneath the hush of trickling water. The air smelled of lavender and eucalyptus, and as they were ushered in Katherine to the left, and Carolina to the right, they were handed soft robes and guided to changing rooms before being led to their individual massage tables.
As Katherine lay down, face resting in the cradle, she felt the last two days crash into her. The silence. The firelight. The forest. The burdened walk. Kingsley’s quiet heartbreak. The way his hand had found hers last night. The way she hadn’t pulled away.
The therapist, a kind woman with smooth hands and a quiet presence started at her shoulders and worked downward. With each stroke, some part of Katherine she hadn’t realized she’d been holding began to unclench. Her mind drifted somewhere in the fog between sleep and memory.
She saw herself years ago married, bruised by betrayal but too numb to cry. She saw herself packing boxes. Leaving. Erasing. She saw Kingsley’s eyes when he used to come home too late, and again now when he cried during the shield collage with nothing to hide behind.
He had changed.
She didn’t know how, when, or even if it was permanent. But something inside him was different. Not performative. Not perfect. Just… raw. True.
When the massage ended, and she sat up slowly, gathering her robe again, she didn’t feel fixed, exactly. But she did feel open.
They walked back slowly.
The air had thickened a little, the clouds pulling themselves together like a soft blanket over the sun. Carolina cradled her arms around her own shoulders and gave a long, luxurious groan.
“That was heaven,” she muttered. “I might marry my masseuse.”
Katherine let out a short breath of laughter. “Do I need to start planning the wedding?”
Carolina shot her a look. “Only if you’re gonna be my maid of honor. No shade, but your organizing skills are average at best.”
They both laughed. And then, quietly, as they crossed the bridge near the reflection pond, Katherine slowed her steps.
“Hey,” she said.
Carolina turned. “Yeah?”
“I want to tell you something.”
There was a slight pause—Carolina knew her well enough to feel the shift in tone. She fell in beside her friend, silent now, waiting.
Katherine swallowed. “Last night. During the solitude hour. Something happened.”
Carolina’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Kingsley came over,” Katherine said softly. “Sat next to me. He held my hand. I let him.”
“What the fuck?” Carolina blinked. “Wait—wait, when did you two start… when did this happen?”
Katherine bit her lip. “It didn’t. Not like that. I mean—it wasn’t planned. We didn’t talk. We weren’t allowed to. But he just… sat down. Held my hand. And after a while, I laid my head on his shoulder.”
Carolina’s mouth fell open. “Katherine! Are you—what?! Are we… are we in a rom-com now?”
Katherine smiled faintly, a little sad, a little amazed. “I don’t know what we’re in.”
Carolina stared at her for a beat. “Okay. Okay. Talk to me. What is happening? Are you into this? Are you okay? Because I’m trying really hard not to be overprotective, but this is starting to feel like a deleted scene from The Notebook.”
Katherine stopped walking. They stood in the quiet clearing now, the wind shifting the grass around their feet.
She looked at her best friend, her heart quietly trembling. “I think he’s trying. Not just trying to win me back… but trying to be better. I’ve watched him this week. Really watched. He’s been present, vulnerable, and open in ways he never was before. And last night, when he spoke during the shield collage… Carolina, he cried.”
Carolina blinked again, slower this time.
“I’ve never seen him cry before,” Katherine whispered. “Not even when we ended. Not like that. Not from somewhere that deep.”
Carolina’s face softened, just slightly.
“He’s said sorry,” Katherine continued. “So many times. But now… I think I’m starting to see it in his actions. Not just words. The way he shows up. The way he participates. The way he listens. And last night… I don’t know. It felt real. It felt like… like maybe, finally, he sees me. And I—I don’t know what this is. But I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to see where this could go.”
There was silence for a moment, long and thick and fragile.
Carolina exhaled slowly.
“Well,” she said. “Shit.”
Katherine gave a shaky laugh.
“I mean,” Carolina added, “look. I don’t trust him the way you do. But you know him better than anyone. And if you believe he’s changing, if you see that growth in him, then I believe in your judgment. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”
Katherine stepped forward and hugged her. Tight.
“Thanks, girl,” she whispered.
Carolina pulled back. “But if he hurts you again, I’m stealing his credit cards and maxing them out on plants and silk robes.”
“I’ll drive the getaway car.”
They laughed.
And then the wind changed direction as if the day itself was listening in.
By the time the sun had reached its sleepy perch at the peak of the sky, the campgrounds had settled into a strange, golden lull. A kind of hush fell over the walkways, disturbed only by the shuffle of sandals on gravel, the occasional birdcall, or the rhythmic hum of an instructor’s voice floating from an open yurt.
Katherine and Carolina had returned to their cabin briefly after the massage session, each claiming a soft corner of the porch with water bottles in hand, their bodies limp from the release of muscle tension. Neither of them spoke much. There was a shared understanding that the morning had been… a lot. Physically, emotionally, and otherwise.
But now, after a moment of stillness and a change of clothes, they were walking again—this time toward the open-air nutrition tent where the afternoon smoothie workshop would take place.
The tent was set up near the orchard. Tables lined with colorful fruit displays stood beneath wide canvas awnings. Wooden crates spilled over with ripe bananas, fat blueberries, curled mint leaves, hunks of ginger root, pineapples the size of small children, mangoes already sliced, their skins gleaming like marbled gold. There were jars of seeds—chia, flax, pumpkin—rows of nut butter, plant milk, powdered supplements, and tiny cards explaining their healing properties.
A young, sunny-faced instructor named Ivy greeted them with a voice that sounded like someone who definitely drank green juice daily and did yoga on a paddleboard. “Welcome, everyone! You’re about to make magic in a blender.”
Katherine smiled politely. Carolina whispered, “If she says ‘gut health’ one more time, I’m walking into the woods.”
They took their place at one of the front tables—near enough to hear, but far enough to talk in low voices. Across the space, Katherine’s eyes flicked instinctively toward the far end of the workshop, where Kingsley stood at another table with Devon. She wasn’t looking for him exactly. It was more like her body was—some magnetic pulse beneath the skin, something that moved before she made the decision to move.
Kingsley was focused, quietly peeling a banana. He looked different here, surrounded by pitchers and avocados. More casual than she remembered, more human. His brows were furrowed like he took smoothie-making as seriously as strategy meetings.
She looked away before he noticed.
The instructor gave them their cue to start building their drinks. As Katherine reached for spinach and a slice of kiwi, Carolina nudged her with her elbow and raised a brow.
“You’ve got that look,” she said.
“What look?”
“That faraway I’m-overthinking-everything look. Like you’re three seconds from spiraling.”
“I am not spiraling.”
“Mmhmm,” Carolina said, dropping a handful of mango into the blender. “So, you’re not thinking about Kingsley, then?”
Katherine gave her a flat glance. “Please just blend.”
Carolina snorted.
But she wasn’t wrong.
Katherine did feel that slow-motion unraveling happening again inside her. Not the bad kind. Not panic. But the kind that made her aware of her own breath. Of how full her heartfelt in the quiet moments lately. Of how fragile and temporary all of this was.
She was falling into something—again.
And this time she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to stop it.