15
Can we meet, Jen?
It was Kate again.
Her name lit up my screen like a ghost I hadn’t fully laid to rest.
I hadn’t responded to her message last night. What could I possibly say?
And now, she wanted to meet.
I stared at the text, my mind tangling with confusion and unease. What could she want from me now, after everything? After months of silence, after the messy way we parted, after pretending I didn’t exist in a room she walked into? Why now?
My fingers hovered over my screen when another message buzzed in.
Jen, please. I know that you know it’s me.
I sighed, sitting up straighter on the couch, the weight of old emotions stirring like sediment in still water.
I finally typed: What do you want?
The reply came almost instantly.
Meet me and I’ll tell you.
I stared. Still unsure. Still caught between curiosity and caution.
Why now? Why the sudden urgency? It must be important, right? For her to swallow her pride and reach out like this. Or… could this be something else? Some kind of manipulation?
She was different now—more polished, more guarded, less human. Could I really trust her again, even for one conversation?
Well, you won’t know unless you go. That stubborn voice in my head again.
I sighed, picked up my phone. Meet me in the park. 20 minutes.
I checked the time—6:00 PM.
The sky was painted in shades of soft amber and smoky gray, that in-between moment when day and night hesitate.
I walked to my room and grabbed a pair of worn denim shorts and a plain white V-neck. No makeup, no perfume. Just simple. Just me. No need to impress her.
Still, a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
I used to dress up for her. Like, really dress up. I'd spend half an hour just choosing earrings or curling my hair—hoping she’d notice, hoping she’d care. But tonight wasn’t about that.
After a final glance in the mirror, I stepped outside. Just as I did, Emma’s car pulled into the driveway.
She stepped out, looking... breathtaking. A black knee-length dress hugged her in all the right places, paired with a crisp white blazer and those impossibly high heels that made her legs look like they belonged on a runway. I blinked. Probably too many times.
“Hey—”
I didn’t even finish because suddenly she was standing in front of me, smirking.
“You’re drooling.”
“What?” I instinctively touched my chin, eyes wide.
She burst out laughing. “You are so red right now.”
I groaned, covering my face. “You’re evil.”
“And you’re busted,” she teased. “First time I’ve seen you this flustered. I’m keeping this memory forever.”
I nudged her arm in mock annoyance, then softly said, “You look lovely, Em.”
Her smirk faded just a little, replaced with something... softer. She blushed, and I didn’t miss how she looked away for a second before facing me again.
“Where are you headed?”
Her gaze flicked down to my casual outfit, and I hesitated.
I could lie. But she’d see right through it. She always does.
“I’m meeting Kate.”
Her expression didn’t change much—but I saw the subtle shift. The sharp flicker in her eyes, the way her jaw tensed slightly.
“Why?”
Her voice rose just a bit—not angry, but tight. Maybe defensive. Maybe something else.
“She texted. Said she wanted to talk. I don’t know what it’s about, but I said yes.”
Emma didn’t say anything right away. She just stared at me. Not accusing, not interrogating—but something behind those eyes was unreadable.
“Em?” I prompted.
“Have fun,” she said flatly, and just like that, she walked past me and into the building without another word.
I stood there, feeling like I’d just disappointed someone important.
But I couldn’t think about that right now. Not when Kate was waiting.
By the time I reached the park, it was 6:28. Kate was already sitting on the swing, lightly swaying back and forth, her silhouette bathed in the dimming golden light.
“Hey,” I said softly, sitting on the swing beside hers, facing away. “Sorry. Got held up.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice quieter than I remembered. “You came. That’s what matters.”
She looked around the park and smiled faintly. “You chose this place?”
I nodded. “Guess so.”
Our old spot.
The one we used to come to when the world felt too loud and we just needed to breathe.
I didn’t realize it until now. Maybe my heart had led me here before my mind caught up.
“So… what did you want to talk about?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. I didn’t want nostalgia. I didn’t want to fall back into some old rhythm.
She turned toward me, her eyes dim but sincere. “You look good, Jen.”
I didn’t reply.
“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry.”
I blinked. “What?”
She lowered her head, her voice trembling now. “I’m sorry, Jenny. For the way I left. For how I ignored you. For pretending like you didn’t exist when I came back. I was… ashamed. And I hated myself for it. But instead of fixing it, I doubled down. I was awful to you.”
I didn’t know what to say. I watched her hands as they clenched into fists on her lap. I remembered those hands—how they used to tuck my hair behind my ear, how they used to trace circles on my wrist.
She reached over, hesitated, then took my hand.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I needed you to hear it.”
I stared down at our hands. There was no spark. No familiar thrill.
It was a hand. Just a hand.
And it wasn’t Emma’s.
I choked on a thousand possible responses. Nothing came out.
“Jen?” she prompted, softly.
“I—uh…” I was stammering. I hated it. My mind was racing, and yet my voice had checked out entirely.
Kate laughed gently. “Still awkward under pressure, huh?”
I managed a sheepish smile.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
She stood behind me then, unexpectedly wrapping her arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“I missed you, Jenny,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
But all I could think about was Emma.
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