Chapter 6 : The Reunion

Chapter 6: The Reunion

Weeks passed. Quietly at first, then all at once. Winter loosened its grip, and the world began to soften at the edges. Trees hinted at green, mornings carried light a little longer, and somewhere beneath the surface of their separate lives, something stirred, a shared longing to reconnect, to reflect, to breathe in the presence of those who knew their fractures without flinching.

Davina sent the message without overthinking it.

Dinner? My place. Just us.

No explanations. No apologies. Just an opening.

They all came.

Emmy arrived first, as she always did, bringing a bottle of red wine and a cascade of stories that filled the room before she even took off her coat. She looked lighter somehow, less guarded, though traces of weariness still lingered in her eyes. Sofia followed soon after, arms full of flowers she’d picked herself, their scent fresh and grounding. Max arrived last, holding a neatly wrapped dessert and wearing a quieter version of himself, less performative, more present.

They gathered around Davina’s dining table, now glowing under the soft flicker of candles. Laughter rose and fell naturally, like a familiar rhythm rediscovered. Old songs played in the background, not loud enough to distract, just enough to cradle the moment, each lyric brushing against memory.

For a while, they spoke of small things. Work. Travel dreams. A ridiculous movie Emmy insisted they all needed to watch. But beneath the ease, something heavier waited patiently.

“So,” Sofia finally said, swirling her wine slowly. “How are we doing? Really?”

The question settled among them. No one rushed to fill the silence. It was a necessary pause, one that invited honesty rather than performance.

Davina spoke first, her fingers wrapped around her glass. “I’m learning to stay open,” she said. “Tich… he’s still around. But I’ve stopped needing him to complete me. I chose him. And I still do. But I choose myself too. That’s new for me.”

Emmy smiled softly and nodded. “I thought Jay ruined me,” she admitted. “That loving him broke something I wouldn’t get back. But he didn’t. He reminded me that I’m still capable of deep feelings. That’s a gift, even if it ended in pain. I don’t regret feeling.”

Sofia inhaled, then added, “I still think about Caleb. Not with anger anymore. Just… gratitude, oddly enough. He gave me a mirror. I saw my loneliness clearly for the first time. And now I know how to love myself better, instead of waiting to be chosen.”

Their eyes shifted to Max.

He took a long breath, as if steadying himself. “I’ve never held myself accountable until now,” he said. “Natasha’s letting me see the twins. Mia hasn’t spoken to me since, and I understand why. But I’m showing up, consistently. For them. And for me. I’m not running anymore.”

No one spoke after that. They didn’t need to. In the quiet, there was recognition, respect, and something close to forgiveness, if not from others, then from themselves.

Later, they moved to the balcony. The night air was cool but kind. Each of them held a blanket, a glass, or a memory. City lights blinked in the distance like quiet witnesses.

“What are we now?” Emmy asked, her voice thoughtful rather than uncertain.

Davina smiled, looking at each of them in turn. “We’re what we’ve always been,” she said. “People trying. Falling. Getting up. Loving hard. Friends who held space for each other’s mess and magic.”

Max raised his glass. “To the hearts that broke,” he said, “and kept beating anyway.”

They toasted.

The night didn’t end in epiphanies or grand revelations. There were no promises made, no futures defined. Just warmth. Truth. And the quiet understanding that sometimes, love isn’t what saves you.

Sometimes, it’s who stands beside you while you save yourself.