All Chapters of Beyond A Substitute: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The sun had begun to settle into a warm amber glow as Carolina returned from her picnic, her face flushed—not just from the sun, but from something else entirely. She pushed open the cabin door, and Katherine sat up immediately from her bed where she’d been flipping through a wellness brochure without really reading it. Katherine grinned wide. “Girl, tell me everything. Don’t even act like nothing happened. What went down at Willow Lake?” Carolina paused at the door, biting her lip, cheeks blooming a deep pink. “Oh. My. God.” Katherine sat all the way up. “Why are you blushing like that? Talk!” Carolina laughed, shy and giddy, and walked to the bed opposite Katherine’s, sitting down with her legs crossed under her. “We… kissed.” Katherine’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you kissed?!” Carolina threw her head back with a groan and then nodded, laughing. “We kissed. I know—it’s wild. But it just… happened.” “Girl!” Katherine slapped a pillow. “Start from the beginning. Do

They were told to meet by the trailhead after lunch. A long path carved into the woods had been marked with ribbons, and the staff guided them forward in silence, their footsteps crunching against damp leaves and soft earth. The air was cooler under the trees, thick with the scent of moss, bark, and something old—something ancient. Katherine breathed it in deeply as she walked beside Carolina, who was unusually quiet. Kingsley walked a few paces behind them. Devon was up ahead. No one was talking. It felt like the forest itself had hushed them. When they arrived at the wide-open space beneath a massive canopy of branches, the facilitator stepped forward. She was barefoot, standing confidently in the grass, with wind teasing her hair and sunlight falling in pieces through the leaves. “Welcome,” she said gently. “This is a release ceremony. A very special part of your journey, Today,” one of the facilitators said gently, “you are going to scream.” A few participants laughed awkw

The sun was still rising when a bell rang out gently across the campgrounds. A soft breeze rustled the trees as campers made their way toward the open-air breakfast pavilion, the aroma of brewed coffee and toasted granola filling the space. There was a strange kind of buzz in the air—an undercurrent of anticipation. A facilitator clapped lightly for attention. “Good morning, everyone! Just a quick reminder—today is Calling Day. If you’d like to check in with your family, friends, or workplace, the call center will be open all day. You can also stop by to find out if anyone left you a voice message. If there’s something waiting for you, it’ll be played in your private booth.” Around the pavilion, heads nodded, and conversations stirred. Katherine poked at her fruit bowl, quietly listening. Carolina glanced at her. “You going to call anyone?” Carolina asked. Katherine shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t tell many people I was coming. Just Jordan.” Carolina arched a brow. “Jordan, h

The afternoon sunlight broke through the pine trees in soft, golden shafts, slanting through the forest canopy like strands of warmth pulled straight from the sky. After the heavy morning of mirror work—after the silence, the reckoning, the pain of facing their own eyes for far too long—there was something almost sacred in the way the retreat facilitators gently herded the campers across the wooden path and into the next space. It wasn’t one of the regular pavilions this time. This was a different building, tucked behind the main dining hall. From the outside, it looked like an old converted barn, all weathered wood and vines curling up around its sides. But when the double doors creaked open, a surprising wash of color greeted them. Bright rugs were thrown across the floor in a patchwork of blues and reds. Floor cushions were arranged in a wide circle. There were two long tables at the back, cluttered with magazines, newspapers, markers, old buttons, broken jewelry, faded feathers,

Kingsley awoke before dawn, long before the faint glow of morning began to seep through the slatted cabin window. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft shadows of early light. For a moment, he simply lay there in stillness, the silence of the retreat settling around him like a second blanket. But it wasn’t sleepiness that held him in bed—it was something else. Katherine. She’d laid her head on his shoulder. His fingers, still resting faintly over the spot on the sheet where his hand had curled around hers last night, flexed slightly as if to remember the shape of her. The sensation had stayed with him—her warmth, trust, and silence that spoke volumes. She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t pulled away. If anything, she’d leaned in. That single hour had stretched into something much more than time. It had been permission. It had been forgiveness—unspoken but felt. He closed his eyes again, breathing in slowly, letting himself replay it. He exhaled now in the morning stillnes