Daniel’s POV I sat behind the wheel, parked just two blocks from the café, staring out the windshield like maybe I’d catch a glimpse of River walking away. But he didn’t come back. And I didn’t go after him.The rain had stopped.But inside me, something still poured. Slowly. Quietly. Like sorrow sinking deep into the cracks.I had done what I came to do.I ended it.Not because I stopped caring.But because I cared too much.Because loving him made me feel alive. And broken. All at once.I didn’t know how to hold that in my hands anymore.I didn’t drive home right away. I didn’t feel ready to face the quiet in that house, or the way Olivia would look at me and ask questions with her eyes. I didn’t feel ready to sit with Luciana’s gentle voice or pass Elliot’s room and wonder if he still dreamed of that night.So I drove. Aimlessly. Nowhere special.The roads were wet but empty. My wipers swiped across the glass with a tired rhythm. Streetlights blinked gold on the pavement, casting
River’s POVHe looked older.Or maybe it was just the lighting.I couldn’t tell.The café around us hummed with quiet energy. Mugs clinked. Doors whooshed open. People whispered. Steam curled from espresso machines.But none of that touched me.I sat opposite him, feeling a coldness creep into my bones. My gray hoodie clung damp and heavy. Strands of hair were stuck to my forehead. My palms itched from the rain, but deeper than that was an ache in my chest.He hadn’t spoken yet.Neither had I.We sat like strangers on opposite shores of a vast ocean, heartbeats echoing in silence. We were two people pretending we’d never fit together, never intertwined, never belonged. But that pretended truth tore at me. My fingers twisted in my lap, knuckles stretching tight over bone.Finally, he cleared his throat—soft, almost timid.“Thank you for coming,” he said.His voice barely carried over the low hum of café life. It was the first sound he’d made, and it hurt—like it belonged to someone els
Daniel’s POVI stared at the message on my phone like it might disappear if I blinked too hard.Can we talk?Four small words.They looked harmless, sitting there in that little text bubble. Just a question. Just an invitation. But for me, they felt like a storm. Everything inside me had gone quiet the second I typed them out. Like I had exhaled something I didn’t realize I’d been holding in for so long.I hovered over the send button.My thumb shook.I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.But I tapped send anyway.As soon as I did, my stomach twisted. The cold feeling started in my hands, then spread. Like someone had cracked open my chest and let winter pour in.I dropped the phone on the counter. Couldn’t bear to keep looking at it. I turned away, walked into the bedroom slowly, feeling like each step cost something. Something invisible and heavy.I stood by the dresser for a long time, just staring at the clothes inside. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t even remember what I us
River's POV.Sunlight poured through the kitchen window like it didn’t know last night had been a mess. It slipped over the counter, golden and too cheerful for my mood. The kitchen smelled like vanilla, butter, and something slightly burning.Ethan was already up, moving around the kitchen like a man on a mission. He hummed some old love song under his breath, probably something from the 80s, and flipped pancakes like a showoff. He wore a sleep shirt that came down to his thighs and said Resting Brunch Face in sparkly letters.It was way too early for that much sparkle.He did a little spin in front of the stove, flipping a pancake high into the air like he’d been practicing in secret.“Do not burn down the kitchen,” I said, squinting at him through half-awake eyes.“I would never,” he said, eyes wide with mock offense. “You wound me.”I rolled mine and opened a cabinet, reaching for a mug. The smell of coffee was already in the air, rich and warm and comforting, and I decided maybe
River's POV.Ethan's wet hair flopped over his forehead, sticking to his skin in dark, shiny strands. He blinked at us, confused and dripping, like we were the ones who had burst into his life uninvited. Water rolled down his chin, slid across his bare shoulders, and disappeared under the edge of a towel that looked about one sneeze away from giving up.“River!” he gasped, stumbling back a step. His voice was a mix of shock, guilt, and that same dramatic flair he’d never grown out of. “You—you can't just walk in! What is wrong with you?!”“I live here!” I said, flinging a hand up to shield my eyes. Not that it helped. That image was burned in. “You don’t!”“I do now!”“What?”“I moved in!”I squinted at him like I’d heard wrong. “Since when?!”He flung a damp hand toward the duffle bag lying in the middle of the living room like a wounded animal that had dragged itself to the couch to die. “Since twenty minutes ago!”I blinked. My brain tried to catch up. “You moved in while showering
River’s POVWeeks passed.Not quietly. Not smoothly.Elliot got better faster than we all thought he would. The burns weren’t as deep as we feared. It was mostly the smoke that messed him up. He was tough—stubborn in that way that made people shake their heads but still smile.Every time someone tried to help him, he’d roll his eyes like they were being dramatic. “I’m fine. Stop hovering,” he kept saying. Like he’d brushed off a cold instead of being pulled out of a fire.Two weeks later, the hospital sent him home. Olivia brought him to Daniel’s house, and somehow, without anyone saying much, she and Luciana started staying there too.“Just for a while,” Daniel had told someone once. I wasn’t sure who. Maybe himself.And Daniel?Daniel stopped everything.He didn’t text. Didn’t call. Didn’t wave or smile when we passed in the school halls. He didn’t even look at me. Like I’d been erased. Like whatever had happened between us was just a dream I’d made up.Only, I hadn’t.I still felt