How to Heal (Without Losing Wifi)

My cabin sat at the end of a gravel road, tucked behind towering trees that looked like lazy forest guardians. At the foot of the mountain and near a thawing lake, slowly giving in to the Alaskan summer, the place felt like a parallel universe.

It was the kind of spot that looked stolen straight from a movie...Twilight, maybe, if Bella Swan had better taste in interior design.

I was out back, curled up barefoot in a creaky wicker chair on the porch, wearing an oversized hoodie and leggings that were starting to pill. Resting in my lap was a half-finished painting. Soft blues, grays, and streaks of orange pulled from memory.

My phone kept buzzing beside my mug of tea. Once. Twice. Maybe fifteen times. Emails from architecture clients. A gallery checking in about the fall collection. Someone from the office claiming it was “urgent.”

I glanced at the screen, then flipped it face down.

Colors started dancing across my canvas. I didn’t even know what I was painting, and strangely, that felt good. I was letting my hand take the lead for once, instead of my overworked brain calculating facade details or double-checking steel structures.

Here, I wasn’t an architect. Wasn’t an artist.

Wasn’t somebody’s ex-wife who... yeah, let’s skip that part.

Here, I was just Dianna Bahr.

And honestly, that was already annoying enough.

I studying the vague strokes that didn’t make much sense yet. Then I heard the floorboards creak inside. The back door opened slowly.

“Ahem…” A soft voice.

“Liam,” I muttered flatly. “You keep sneaking up like that, one day I’m actually going to slap you with my paint palette. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I... just wanted to let you know lunch is ready.”

His voice was soft and polite, classic Liam. Always afraid to intrude, even though I was the only adult within a two-mile radius.

I glanced back. Liam was standing in the doorway with his hands behind his back like a schoolboy caught cheating.

“Wow.” I stood and pushed up my sleeves. “Lunch, huh? I thought your culinary skills peaked at instant noodles and sweet tea.”

He grinned, showing teeth that were suspiciously straight for someone who claimed he’d never had braces. “Today’s roast chicken and salad. Figured you could use something besides caffeine and rage to stay alive.”

I laughed. “Smart move. Keep it up and I might actually consider making you my husband one day.”

His face went red. Like really red.

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you always turn that red when I flirt with you, or is the idea of being Mr. Bahr just that nauseating?”

He chuckled nervously and opened the door wider. “That’s not....I mean, I didn’t... God, I made lunch, I didn’t propose.”

“Shame,” I stepped inside. “And I was, ready to wear a veil and waltz around the kitchen.”

The little dining nook off the kitchen was set simply. Two plates, a big bowl of salad, rosemary roast chicken that confidently announced its presence to my nose, and... a candle?

“A candle?” I glanced at him. “Did you set this up on purpose or are you secretly into me and this is your way of asking for a candlelight lunch?”

“Aromatherapy, Madam.” He looked exasperated. “It’s for the mosquitoes.”

I sat down and poured myself a glass of water. “Ugh, and here I was, almost touched. Thought you were being secretly romantic. Turns out you’re just scared of bugs.”

We ate in silence for a bit. Liam busied himself arranging chicken pieces on his fork like he was auditioning for MasterChef, and I got lost wondering how someone like me could feel this at peace with a sweet kid like him in the house.

“So... why are you still here?” I asked out of nowhere.

He shrugged. “You told me to take the upstairs room, and... it’s nice here. Not as complicated as the city.”

“Fitting,” I muttered. “You’re not complicated either.”

I was just about to tease him again when his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, then at me. His expression changed, not serious, exactly, but... yeah. A little pitying.

“It’s... your mom.”

I groaned and set my fork down. “Of course. Mommy. Heaven-sent to ruin her daughter’s peaceful break from the world.”

“Should I answer?”

I held out my hand.

Liam passed me the phone.

I pressed it to my ear. “Hi, Mom?”

My mom’s voice blasted through the phone. “DIAANNA VALENTINA LOPEZ BLOOMY BAHR, ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?! It’s been five days and you haven’t checked your emails, your architecture team is losing their minds, the gallery’s been calling your dad nonstop, and...JESUS help us, your cats have started fighting each other!”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m just on a break. I’m fine.”

“We’re not fine! Five cats need their mother. The sitters have all quit, and your dad had to sleep on the couch because Lucifer threw up on his pillow!”

I bit back a laugh. “That was definitely Karma, not Lucifer.”

“DIAANNA. Come home. Now.”

I let out a slow sigh. “Two more days. I’ll be home in two days, okay? I just... need a break.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then she said, “Two days. No more.”

I hit End Call and handed the phone back to Liam. “My family’s insane.”

Liam gave a tiny smile. “So are you.”

I shot him a look. “Brave of you to say that.”

XXXXX

The Alaskan sky had turned into a black blanket littered with stars, and the temperature had dropped enough to make me burrito myself in a blanket without shame.

I lay on the wooden bed, surrounded by the smell of pinewood, leftover lavender from the aromatherapy candle earlier, and a faint hint of paint still clinging to the cuff of my sleeve. The reading lamp glowed dimly beside the bed, while my iPad rested on my lap, casting that soul-sucking blue light strong enough to make your retinas cry.

But hey, I wasn’t blind yet. Yet.

I had on my round reading glasses, the same ones that made me look like that art professor who once kicked me out of class for doodling an owl on my exam paper. And yes, I still got an A. Karma is real.

My left hand scrolled through emails, replying to a few gallery offers, skipping the ones that felt too cheap (sorry, but I’m not putting paintings made of my blood, sweat, and tears into a space that looks darker than a hipster café bathroom).

I replied to a couple of architecture office emails with forced professionalism. The rest? Archive. Archive. Archive.

There were two open chats from my wild best friends, Theresia and Jasmine. I left them unread on purpose. I knew if I opened them, they’d drag me into a two-hour conversation about celebrity scandals, astrology predictions, and men who were too attractive for their own good.

I tapped the home button and opened I*******m.

Scroll. Scroll. Cat video. Influencer with an $800 skincare routine.

Ah. There it is.

“Theo Rodriguez Involved in Car Crash in Washington D.C. Fiancée Also Hospitalized.”

That handsome face popped up on the screen. Smiling on a magazine cover. Youngest trillionaire. Global real estate king. Heir to an empire. Too rich to sleep alone. And apparently, too dumb to wear a seatbelt.

I stared at the headline for a while. Not because I cared, God knows I didn’t, but because the universe really does have the weirdest sense of humor.

Theo, the undisputed asshole of the century, in a crash? With his fiancée?

I burst out laughing.

I covered my mouth but the laugh kept coming, wild and raw and honest.

The door creaked open a little and Liam poked his head in.

“Madam?” he asked softly. “You okay?”

His eyes were worried, his face caught between concern and some weird readiness to fight demons if I suddenly went feral. The plain blue pajamas he wore made him look even more like a high school kid.

I sat up halfway, wiping tears from the corner of my eyes. “I just read the funniest thing of the year. I swear, it’s not hysteria. It’s spiritual release.”

He stepped in slowly, hovering by the bed like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. “What’s it about?”

I turned my iPad around and held it up. “Look. There. Theo Rodriguez..Mr. Perfect, Mr. I-Don’t-Make-Mistakes, crashed his car with his fiancée. Maybe the universe finally got tired of his ego too.”

Liam read quickly, then glanced at me, confused. “You... know him?”

I shrugged. “Well, I kind of used to be married to him. But don’t worry, that was before I found inner peace and herbal tea.”

Liam’s face did this tiny panic-flash thing. “That’s your... ex-husband?”

“Relax.” I reached up and gently tapped his cheek. Then, without thinking too hard, I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

And I pulled back and went right back to my iPad.

Liam froze. “Uh...What was... that supposed to mean?”

I glanced at him over my glasses. “That? That was your reward for being the only man who’s never lied to me. And because you made really good chicken today.”

His cheeks flushed red. As always. But he smiled, nervously. “In that case... I’ll make pasta tomorrow,”

I laughed, sinking back into the pillow. “Careful. If you overcook it, you might lose your backup husband status.”

He just nodded, awkward and sweet, then stepped back toward the door.

As he closed it gently behind him, I stared back up at the ceiling.

Outside, the stars were still shining.

And on my iPad screen, Theo Rodriguez was still headline news.

But strangely enough...My chest didn’t ache the way I thought it would.