CHAPTER ONE

Mia Brooks slipped into the café with an apologetic smile, shrugging off her coat as she spotted Chelsea already waiting at a table by the window. She made her way over, dropping her bag onto the empty chair beside her before sinking into the seat opposite.

“Hi,” she said, slightly out of breath.

Chelsea smiled. “Hi. I ordered for you already. Latte and a bagel.”

Mia glanced at the steaming cup that had just been set in front of her. “Thanks.”

Chelsea studied her for a moment. “So, what’s up? You look a little worn out.”

Mia let out a tired breath.

“I feel worn out. I still haven’t found anyone to replace you, and rent’s due in, like, a week.”

Chelsea frowned. “Still? I thought you already put the room up. You didn’t get any candidates?”

“I did. Three, actually.” Mia reached for her coffee. “But they were all men. I’m not sharing my apartment with a random man I don’t know.”

Chelsea nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this.” She offered Mia a sympathetic smile. “You know I would’ve loved to keep living with you if my parents hadn’t insisted I move back home.”

“I know.” Mia gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I understand.”

She paused, staring into her coffee before quietly adding,

“I might just have to find somewhere cheaper that I can afford on my own.”

Chelsea looked genuinely disappointed.

“But you love that apartment.”

“I do.”

“So where would you even go? You’ve only got a week.”

Mia gave a small shrug.

“I don’t know.”

“You could stay with me for a while,” Chelsea suggested. “My parents would love to have you. You know they adore you.”

Mia laughed softly and shook her head.

“I can’t do that. I miss living with you too, but… I need to figure this out myself.”

Chelsea rested her elbows lightly on the table, watching her for a moment before asking carefully,

“Have you talked to Callum?”

Mia didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

“And you’re not going to?”

“No.”

Chelsea sighed.

“You know he’d sort all of this out if he knew.”

“And that’s exactly why I don’t want him to know.”

Mia wrapped both hands around her mug, letting its warmth settle against her palms.

“I don’t want anyone rescuing me anymore.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second.

“Especially not him.”

Chelsea was quiet for a moment.

“Does he still text you?”

Mia gave a humorless smile.

“Every day.”

Chelsea glanced down at her phone as it buzzed.

“I’ve got to go.”

She slipped it back into her bag before standing. “Talk later?”

“Sure.”

“Keep me posted, okay?”

She leaned down and wrapped Mia in a quick hug.

“I will.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Mia watched as Chelsea disappeared through the café doors and out onto the busy sidewalk.

For a few moments, she stayed where she was, absentmindedly stirring a coffee that had already gone untouched for too long. Around her, conversations blended with the hiss of the espresso machine and the clatter of cups against ceramic plates.

Her phone buzzed repeatedly against the table. Mia stared at the screen for a long moment before finally unlocking her phone. Three new messages. All from Callum.

Callum (11:42 a.m.)

Morning.

Callum (12:15 p.m.)

Chelsea said she was meeting you today. I hope you’re doing okay.

Callum (12:38 p.m.)

You don’t have to reply. Just let me know you got home safely.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

She should’ve muted him weeks ago. Maybe even blocked him. Instead, she’d done neither. She simply never answered.

With a small sigh, she tapped their conversation.

The messages stretched farther than she cared to scroll. Some were nothing more than Good morning. Others asked whether she’d eaten. A few were photos—an orange tabby asleep on the hood of a car because she’d once mentioned she liked cats too much to ignore them, a bakery she’d once stopped outside and said she wanted to try, a song he’d said reminded him of her.

None of them demanded anything. None of them accused her of leaving. None of them asked why.

He simply kept finding small reasons to reach out, as though one day she’d wake up and decide to answer.

Mia swallowed and locked her phone again before she could scroll any further.

It would’ve been easier if he’d hated her. If he’d sent angry messages. If he’d called her selfish. If he’d told her not to come back.

Instead, Callum had accepted the breakup with a silence that never quite felt like acceptance.

He hadn’t argued. Hadn’t chased her that night. Hadn’t stood outside her apartment or begged her to stay. He’d only looked at her for what felt like forever before asking one question.

“Is this really what you want?”

She’d said yes.

It had been the hardest lie she’d ever told.

Because leaving him had never been about not loving him. It had been about wanting a life that still felt like hers.

Callum had a way of making things easier without being asked. If something broke, it was already fixed before she could worry about it. If she mentioned wanting something in passing, it would appear days later as though he’d been listening to every small detail of her life. When work overwhelmed her, he rearranged his schedule without making it a conversation, just so she wouldn’t have to carry it alone.

It wasn’t control. It wasn’t cruelty.

It was simply him.

And she had loved him for it once.

Until she started realizing she couldn’t remember the last problem she had solved on her own.

Somewhere along the way, she had stopped feeling like Mia and started feeling like the woman standing beside Callum Blackwood.

And as much as she loved him, she missed herself.

That was the part no one seemed to understand.

Not Chelsea. Not her parents. And certainly not Callum.

Her phone stayed silent after that. No new messages.

Mia slipped it into her bag, picked up her coffee, and took a slow sip.

It had gone cold.

Mia got back to her apartment just as the light outside started to soften. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, dropping her bag on the couch before kicking off her shoes. She didn’t bother sitting down. Instead, she went straight to her laptop. This needed to be sorted. No more dragging it out.

She opened the roommate listing and refreshed the page once, then again. There was a new message. Her brows lifted slightly. That was quick.

She clicked it.

Aubrey Miller.

Female. Mid-twenties. Verified ID. Student nurse. Clean profile, clear introduction, references attached. Mia leaned closer as she scrolled. Everything looked right. Stable, polite, put-together. Almost too put-together.

She opened the message.

Hi, I saw your listing. I’m looking for a quiet place to stay for a few months. Your apartment looks perfect.

Mia replied immediately.

Mia: Hi Aubrey, thanks for reaching out. The room is still available. When are you looking to move in?

The typing indicator appeared almost instantly. Mia paused. Fast.

Aubrey: In a few days, if that works. I need to settle quickly.

Mia hesitated for half a second. A few days was soon, but not impossible. Better than waiting. Still, something about the speed made her pause but she ignored it.

Mia: That’s fine. We can arrange a viewing and go over details.

Another quick reply came through.

Aubrey: I don’t think I’ll need to view it. Your listing is detailed enough, and I trust it. I can send the deposit as soon as we agree.

Mia stared at the message a little longer this time. No viewing. No hesitation. No questions. It was convenient. Very convenient. Almost too convenient.

A small part of her mind flagged it, but she pushed it down. People were different. Some just liked moving fast.

Mia: Okay. We can sort out terms then.

Aubrey: Perfect. I really need to settle in soon, so I’d appreciate finalising everything quickly. It’s been a bit urgent on my end.

Mia exhaled slowly. Urgent made sense at least. She leaned back in her chair, still looking at the screen.

Something about it didn’t sit fully right, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Not when she needed this.

Not when rent wasn’t waiting.

So she decided.

Mia: Alright. Let’s proceed.

For a moment, there was no reply. Then—

Aubrey: Thank you, Mia. I appreciate this more than you know.

Mia closed her laptop halfway and sat back, rubbing her thumb against the edge of the table as a wave of relief washed through her.