CHAPTER 15

The Next Day

The sun is barely rising when my phone vibrates, breaking the silence of my dark bedroom. I reach over, groggily grabbing it, only to see a text from Kieran.

Kieran: You awake?

I stare at the message for a moment before responding.

Me: Barely.

Kieran: Good. Can you meet me later?

My thumb hovers over the screen. We haven't really talked since last night. Sure, we shared some words during the drive, but those moments felt suspended in time, like everything else outside of the car had disappeared. And now here he is, texting me like it’s any other day.

Me: Where?

Kieran: I’ll pick you up at 1.

I smile to myself before setting the phone down. There’s something about him. He’s unpredictable, yet he has a way of making me feel like everything is going to be okay, even if I can’t articulate why.

I spend the morning in a fog of confusion and restlessness. Work is mundane; I go through the motions, dealing with emails, answering calls, trying not to let my mind drift to the mess of things I’m still trying to sort out.

The clock ticks closer to 1:00, and I’m already standing by the window, watching for his car. My stomach flips with anticipation as I wonder what he has in mind for today.

When his car finally pulls up, the knot in my chest loosens. I head down the stairs, barely able to contain my excitement. The doors open before I even reach the curb, and there he is, leaning against the car with that usual smirk.

“You’re late,” I tease, but the smile on my face betrays me.

“Only by a few minutes. Get in.”

I slip into the passenger seat, and he pulls away without a word. The silence in the car is comfortable this time. No need for small talk, no pressure to fill the space with something meaningful. It’s as if we both understand the weight of the unsaid things hanging between us.

After a few minutes, he glances over, catching me studying him.

“What?” he asks, smirking.

“I’m just thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow. “About?”

I shift in my seat, unsure if I should say anything. “About last night,” I finally admit, my voice quieter than I expected.

He doesn’t react, doesn’t give away anything, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—something softer, maybe even more vulnerable.

“Yeah, me too,” he says simply.

I want to ask what exactly he’s thinking about. The drive? The way his voice had shifted when he told me to sleep well? The quiet, unspoken moments? But I don’t. I let the silence remain for now.

“Where are we going?” I ask instead, breaking the stillness.

“You’ll see,” Kieran replies, his smirk returning.

As we drive, the scenery starts to change. The city fades into the background, and the buildings give way to sprawling green fields and the occasional farmhouse. I don’t know how far we’re going, but it feels right—like we’re heading somewhere far enough that the rest of the world doesn’t matter anymore.

Finally, he pulls off the main road and into a small dirt parking lot. There’s a narrow trail that leads into the woods, lined with trees that sway gently in the breeze. The air smells different here—fresher, cleaner.

“Where are we?” I ask, stepping out of the car.

“This is one of my favorite places,” Kieran says, already heading toward the trail. “I come here when I need to clear my head.”

I follow behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. There’s something peaceful about the quiet, the soft rustling of leaves, and the distant call of birds. It feels like we’re in our own little world, disconnected from everything else.

We walk for what feels like miles, though I’m sure it’s only been a few minutes. Eventually, we reach a small clearing where a stream flows lazily by. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Kieran sits down on a rock by the water, and I follow suit, lowering myself onto the grass beside him.

“I needed this,” he says after a few moments of silence.

I nod in agreement, unsure of how to respond.

“Do you come here often?” I ask.

He shrugs, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Whenever I need to clear my mind. Life’s been... complicated lately.”

I glance over at him, my curiosity piqued. I want to ask more, but I don’t want to push him. There’s a heaviness in his voice, something that wasn’t there before, and it makes my chest tighten.

“What happened last night?” I ask instead. “You seemed... off.”

He’s quiet for a long time, his gaze fixed on the water as if it holds all the answers.

“It’s nothing,” he says finally. “Just... life stuff. It’s always there, you know?”

I nod. “I get that.”

We sit in silence for a while longer, the only sound the soft rush of water over rocks. I feel my shoulders relax, my tension melting away with every passing minute. Being here with him—without the noise of the city, without the pressures of everyday life—feels like exactly what I needed.

“So, what do you usually do when you’re here?” I ask after a while, breaking the silence.

He turns to me with a small smile. “I think. Sometimes I just sit and listen to the water. It helps to clear the clutter in my mind.”

“I think I need that,” I admit.

Kieran’s expression softens, and for a moment, I think he’s about to say something important—something that might change everything. But then he looks away, back toward the water.

“I should’ve asked,” he says suddenly. “What about you? What do you do when you need to clear your head?”

I pause, trying to find the right words. “I usually work. Or call a friend. Talk about it until I can’t anymore.”

“Talking helps?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

I shrug. “Sometimes. But sometimes, talking doesn’t do anything.”

He nods like he understands. “Yeah. I get that.”

The conversation falls into a comfortable silence again, and for a while, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. It feels like we’re two people just existing in the same space—no pressure, no expectations.

Kieran stands up abruptly, and I look up at him in surprise.

“We should head back,” he says, stretching his arms above his head.

I stand too, brushing off the dirt from my clothes. “You’re right.”

We walk back the way we came, the quiet stretching between us like an unspoken understanding. There’s no need for more words, no need to try and fix anything. For once, the silence feels like a comfort, rather than a void.

When we reach the car, Kieran looks at me, his expression unreadable.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he says softly.

“Anytime,” I reply, surprised at the sincerity in his voice.

He starts the engine, pulling away from the clearing. As the car moves down the winding road, I glance out the window, feeling a sense of peace settle over me.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to happen. I don’t feel like I need to chase after answers or try to make sense of everything.

For the first time, I just feel content.