Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Conrad’s existence currently revolves around two constants: coffee and the hospital. He doesn’t remember the last time he spent the night at home, his apartment nothing but a fading memory, and he’s almost convinced his bed (his extremely comfortable, appropriately sized bed) is simply a fragment of his imagination. In fact, he spends so many nights in the on-call room, he’s pretty sure they’re going to start charging him rent.

Last night was no different. But the fact that he can’t find a working coffee machine? That’s something new.

Even 5 floors down from the oncology ward, his fortunes show no signs of improvement. Making a mental note to write a strongly worded email about the cruel vanishing coffee trick being played on him, he jumps in the elevator and heads for the first floor. If he rushes, he can probably make it to the coffee shop across the street before he needs to be back for rounds. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He really needs a coffee.

Apparently, the universe has other plans for him.

Conrad all but runs out of the elevator once the doors open, trying his best to weave through the crowd – hospitals in New York are always crowded – without knocking anyone over. He’s still half asleep though, and his limbs aren’t quite getting the message his brain is trying to relay. God, how much further is that door?

“Conrad?”

There’s no way.

He knows that voice intimately, but attributes it to the effects of sleep deprivation, continuing on. There is no logical reason for that voice to belong here, in this lobby. Upon hearing it for a second time, however, he comes to a halt. Scanning the crowd for the source, he sifts through unfamiliar faces until, finally, he spots him in the corner.

So much for getting coffee.

Approaching, he considers making a joke about having himself a stalker, but as he nears his younger friend, the expression on his face becomes more apparent. Worry. There’s no mistaking it.

“Steven... what are you doing here bro? You should have told me you were going to be in New York.”

The younger man’s face doesn’t let up. Instead, Conrad thinks he grows paler.

What the hell is going on?

But then he remembers. Didn’t Laurel say she was going to be in the city this month for a book tour? Has something – Oh. Growing impatient, he pries again. If something has happened to Laurel… No, no way, it’s not possible.

“Laurel’s fine.”

And breathe.

“It’s Belly.”

Conrad doesn’t think he’ll ever need coffee again.

Recovering from the shock of Steven being here was almost instantaneous, but accepting the reason for his sudden appearance? He never would have fathomed Belly being the cause of that. In fact, that caught him completely off guard. Even now, an hour later, he can’t wrap his mind around it. To picture her, downstairs, in the ICU. No. His Belly is full of life. His Belly is absolutely fine.

Yet, she wasn’t his Belly anymore.

“Careful.”

A voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Conrad forces himself to focus on the rounds ahead, hoping he can navigate through them without any more clumsy encounters with yet another nurse (or two). If he could only get through this morning without being the reason for additional spilled bodily fluids, that would be a bonus.

Once he’s finished here, then – then he can go down and see her.

But getting through rounds, knowing the girl he loves is downstairs with all kinds of tubes sticking out of her? Conrad thinks he’s never had to do anything so impossible.

When he finally gets down to the ICU, he can’t bring himself to cross the boundary that lays ahead. He lingers there, at the door to the ward, a timeless moment stretching before him. Once inside, he knows leaving will be impossible.

A passing doctor, seemingly wrapping up for the day, jolts him out of his reverie. He knows he has to be strong. For Belly.

Glancing at his phone to confirm the room number Steven had sent earlier, he turns the corner. Almost immediately, he spots her through the window – surrounded by monitors, tubes, wires. He can make out the bruises that are covering her face. Her eyes swollen shut.

Conrad believed he understood heartbreak. Belly being the force behind his own heartbreak, on more than one occasion. But in this moment, the word took on an entirely new meaning. Nothing compared to this.

Moving into the room mechanically, his gaze fixated on her motionless figure, he realises that this agony righthere, it surpasses any expectations he’d held previously in the day. This was infinitely worse. Laurel’s eyes linger on him, but he can’t bring himself to meet her gaze. His fear is all-consuming – the idea that diverting his attention from Belly, even for a moment, might halt the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The fear of losing her forever will haunt him, from this moment onwards.

“They said she has some bleeding on the brain. They put her into a medically induced coma whilst they monitor the bleeding. She had surgery yesterday, for her other injuries, and she’s stable. She’s strong. They think she’ll pull through.”

Conrad didn’t even realise he had been holding his breath.

“That’s good. That’s – Why didn’t anyone call me?”

Laurel looks at him with so, so much love. They’ve always had a special bond, ever since he was a baby. His Laur was always able to read him, much better than his own mother, or any of the others in the summer house. She could always tell when he was lying. And he’s never been able to convince her that his feelings for her daughter have disappeared, no matter how hard he’s tried.

She crosses the room within seconds, pulling him in for a hug. It was all he needed to finally let loose the tears he’d been holding back all morning. He cried and cried and cried. For belly. For how close he came to losing her, again.

He wasn’t one to cry in front of other people, but for once, he didn’t care.

As the day progresses, each of them carves out their own space within Belly’s hospital room. Laurel finds a makeshift refuge in a chair, sleeping soundly across from the bed. Steven sprawls on the floor, engrossed in his phone, choosing to ignore Conrad’s comments about how dirty hospital floors truly are. And Conrad, he unfolds a chair right beside Belly’s bed and refuges to budge. He’s still in his scrubs, unwilling to leave for even five minutes to get changed. He is staying right where he is, right where he can hold Belly’s hand.

Outside the window, doctors and nurses alike prepare for the upcoming shift change. Knowing that soon they will come in, suggest that they all head home and get some sleep, say that they will be in contact if there is any change in her condition. Conrad has already decided that he won’t be going home tonight, again. He’s not leaving Belly’s side, no, they’ll have to call security if they want him gone.

They don’t call security though. Benefits of working at the hospital, he guesses.

With Laurel and Steven gone, he replaces the foldout chair with the one Laur was previously occupying. Not that he imagines he’ll be able to get any sleep. He stays there all night, observing her breathing patterns. So suddenly aware of her mortality, he vows to himself that he will never waste another day without being by her side.

He’s woken up early the next morning by one of the nurses coming in to change Belly’s catheter.

Not sure when he’d succumbed to sleep, he is filled with immense relief to see she hadn’t stopped breathing overnight. She hadn’t left him.

He knows that he has rounds soon. And he’s very aware of the trouble he’ll be in if he misses them. But one look at Belly, lay there, looking so unlike herself – he can’t bring himself to care. He’s not going anywhere.

Instead, he composes a text message to a colleague on his ward, explaining the situation, hoping to God they take pity on him and find cover for his shifts. He may embellish and tell them it’s his fiancé in the hospital bed next to him. But he’s wanted to marry Belly for as long as he can remember, so it feels like the most honest lie he’s ever told.

Taking her hand in his, he drifts off back to sleep.

Hours later, he’s awoken for the second time when Laurel and Steven return. If they notice the bags under his eyes, they don’t say anything.

“Did anything – have the doctors been in yet?”

Relaying the news, or lack of it, doesn’t take long.

Glancing up at the clock, he suddenly grows restless. He knows that procedure differs between departments, but someone really should have been in to check on Belly by now. Excusing himself, offering his seat up to Laurel, he finally leaves the room – but only long enough to hunt down a doctor.

“Ok. It looks like her intracranial pressure is down, almost at normal levels. We should be able to start bringing her out of the coma by the end of the day.”

Conrad could hug the doctor. In fact, he’s stood up and stepping towards him, about to do so, before he catches himself. He would normally be embarrassed, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of his colleague, but he is just so relieved.

“We’ll have to monitor her for a few more days, we have no idea what the long-term effects of this injury will be. Try and remain optimistic. She’s through the worst of it now.”

Click.

He can hear Laurel thanking the doctor, the sound of the door closing on his way out. Steven is mentioning something about going to grab food, asking Conrad what he wants, but he only grunts. He’s too preoccupied, his mind on overdrive.

In an instant, he’s transported back to late nights at the library in Stanford, grappling with the complexities of the human brain. Trying and failing to memorise the four types of intracranial haemorrhages and their corresponding prognosis. Right now, though, right now his memory doesn’t fail him.

Before his eyes, he can see each and every future possibility unfolding. Among them, one particularly prominent thought embeds itself in his mind, finding itself a permanent home there – the unsettling idea that Belly might not be Belly anymore. The girl he knows better than he knows himself, ceasing to exist.

Conrad thinks being hit by a brick wall would hurt less.

“How long have you two been engaged?”

Confusion etches his features, why would they – right. News travels fast. He feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude at the fact he’s currently alone in the room, Laurel and Steven out running errands, preparing for Belly’s recovery.

“Er- it’s recent? Really recent. But I’ve been in love with her, like, my whole life.”

He notices the nurse smiling at that. Looking at him so tenderly. She makes a comment about how lucky his fiancé is, to have someone who cares about her so much. He wants to agree with her, because he does care for her. So much. But he’s still so overwhelmed with grief over their past together. Deep down, he muses - she deserves better.

By the time Laurel and Steven return, the doctor has already started the process of weaning Belly off the sedative medication that was currently keeping her comatose. It will be a while before she begins to show signs of consciousness, but with anxiety levels in the room at an all-time high, they settle in for long night by her side.

“I think this is the longest Belly has ever managed to keep quiet.”

Silence for one, two, three seconds. Broken first by Laurel, and then suddenly they’re all laughing. Steven’s not funny, he’s really not. But they are all so exhausted, and it’s been such a stressful few days. They need this.

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“Dude? Dude.”

He’s missed this, these people. Only wishing they had been reunited under other circumstances.

“Belly might be worse for wear right now, but she could definitely take you Pretzel.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it? Guys, seriously, I’m really feeling the love right now.”

They’re all smiling, despite everything.

They belong to each other.

Growing up, he always assumed the magic lay within the beach house itself. But it’s been years since they’ve all been there together. No, the magic flows within them all. Gifted to them by Susannah. He ponders whether other families experience this profound sense of connection, feeling their lives intricately interwoven, seemingly existing only in moments like these – moments when they are together.

“Maybe I should let the doctors know we’re going to need another bed. Free up the room next door. If Steven is so insistent on getting his butt kicked by Belly.”

He narrowly manages to dodge the – wait, a remote? Steven really just threw a remote at his head. He goes to retaliate, pulling back his arm, but the second he looks Steven in the eyes he’s doubling over with laughter. Maybe he deserved that. Steven has always been sore about how easily his younger sister could cause him bodily harm.

A quiet settles over the room after that. Glimpsing at Laurel, he notices the battle currently being fought – and lost – against her own eyelids. Realising just then, how late it is, he settles back into his own chair.

He knows these people will still be here, next to him, in the morning.

God, his alarm is obnoxiously loud. He could swear he had just closed his eyes, like 5 minutes ago. Squinting slightly, not ready to face the harshness of daylight, he’s relieved to be met with a blanket of darkness. His alarm is still blaring – offensive to his ears. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he attempts to silence it, to no avail. Strange.

The lingering traces of slumber gradually dissipated as consciousness gently reclaimed its rule over Conrad.

Belly.

Reaching for the emergency bell, nurses rush in before he has a chance to press down on it.

They move in a blur, sweeping him to the side, blocking his view of Belly. Realistically, the nurses are probably only in there for a minute, at most. But to Conrad, that minute feels like a lifetime.

Unable to get a clear view of the monitors, anxiety rises up within his chest. He convinces himself of the worst. But then the beeping stops, and the nurses are turning to him, and –

“She has a fever; we’ve given her something to help reduce it. We’ll check in again in an hour, but otherwise her vitals are all within normal ranges.”

All he can do is nod, and mumble thanks to the nurses as they leave the room.

Feeling Steven’s hand on his shoulder, he becomes aware he wasn’t the only one who the commotion had woken. Turning around and observing his friend, he is convinced that, in that particular moment, they were wearing identical expressions of concern on their faces.

He feels silly then, comparing his position as Belly’s friend to that of her own brother. Perhaps, years ago, he might have had a valid claim to such thoughts. But he had given up that right. No, his worry pales in comparison to that of the others in this room.

He repeats this, over and over, praying his heart rate will take note. It doesn’t.

Conrad might just wet his pants.

He’s been rationing water since the morning, hoping that his reduced intake would stop him from having to relieve himself. Not wanting to leave Belly’s side for even a second, not even to pee.

It’s not really working.

“Bro, will you just go to the toilet. It’s twenty seconds away and you will be gone for a minute tops. Me and mom will be right here, with her.”

He knows he’s being irrational. Belly has been fine for the past seven hours. The chances of her taking a turn for the worst, right when he’s not in the room are incredibly low. But he’s not risking it.

“Yeah, I’ll go in a minute. The nurse will be in here soon and I want to make sure I don’t miss it.”

He makes excuses for another hour before Steven drags him into a cubicle.

It’s late at night when Conrad is alone with Belly again. Laurel and Steven having left an hour earlier, opting to sleep at the hotel, knowing she is unlikely to wake until the next day. He had volunteered to stay, saying she shouldn’t be left alone. Unsurprisingly, no one argued with him.

A nurse had been in earlier that day to give her a sponge bath. Even still covered in bruises from the accident, he’s surprised at how much more like herself she seems. He spends hours watching over her, convinced he has memorised every unfamiliar mark.

He really should try and sleep. But he wants to continue watching her, just for a little longer.

“Belly. I know you can’t hear me, but I’m going to pretend you can – for a moment – if you don’t mind. I have written you countless letters, trying to find the right words to make everything right between us. To convey to you how utterly empty my life has been since I made the mistake of walking away from you, at your prom.”

Deep breath.

“I can’t change what’s happened in the past. All the times I’ve wronged you, Belly, I am so utterly sorry. I get it if you are completely done with me. But if not, if when you walk away from this you, by some miracle, are willing to give me another chance. I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how deep my love for you runs. Telling you. I will never miss a chance to tell you I love you again. Just be ok, please."

He doesn’t expect her to wake up to that, that his proclamation of love can surpass the capabilities of modern medicine. Conrad knows better. But he still studies her face, looking for any sign she had heard him. That she understood.

Eventually he admits defeat. Knowing the nurses will be in within a few short hours to check on her, he surmises he should try and at least get some sleep before then. Sitting back in his chair, he takes one last look at Belly before committing to closing his eyes for the night.

He almost misses it.

It's so small, you could hardly call it a blink. He dismisses it, chalking it up to wishful thinking. But then it happens again. This time, there is no mistaking it. The flutter of her eyelashes. He’s sitting forward, instantly, reaching for her hand.

“Belly?”

That’s when she opens her eyes.

Chapter Text

“You look, so beautiful Bells.”

Belly’s hand freezes in mid-air at that, abandoning her current effort to touch up her blush. Not expecting company for at least another hour, she swivels in her chair to face her new guest. But one look at the expression on Susannah’s face and her eyes are welling up, threatening to ruin her freshly applied makeup.

“Can you help me with this? I swear, all these years and I am still as clueless with this stuff as I was at sixteen.”

Susannah glides across the room, relieving Belly of the brush still at home in her hand. They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Susannah meticulously tending to Belly’s face as if it were a canvas upon which she was painting a portrait. When she’s finished, she leans back, admiring her efforts. This, this was her best work yet.

“I knew it, you know. That one day you would marry one of my boys. Become Mrs Fisher.”

They share a smile.

She had always been Susannah’s special girl. For as long as she could remember, she had treated Belly like the daughter she’d never had. The realisation that today, they were going to become family – for real. In every sense of the word. She knew now that her whole life had been leading up to this moment. It was inevitable. They were inevitable.

“I-“

She doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought though, pain overtaking her every sense. Creeping up on her like crashing waves against the shore. Looking to Susannah, willing her to help, she’s confused to see she’s alone in the room. The space where Susannah stood moments before now empty.

She feels cold.

“Belly?”

That’s not Susannah’s voice.

The room around her begins to fade, first gradually and then all at once, morphing into an unfamiliar and unknown space. She can make out the outline of shapes, willing her eyes to see beyond the shadows. She has to find Susannah.

It’s then she becomes aware of the hand in hers, and she’s filled with immense relief.

Susannah is here.

She tries to call out to her, needing to make sense of what just happened. But her throat is so raw. So dry. All she can manage is one word – water. She doesn’t have to say more than that, though. Seconds later a straw at her mouth, liquid soothing her gullet.

She turns her head slightly, wanting to thank Susannah with a smile. Unable to manage anything else right now. Susannah’s eyes are staring back at her, but that is where the resemblance ends.

Reality hits her like a bucket of ice-cold water.

She can’t recall the events leading up to her presence in this hospital bed, but she does remember that Susannah is dead. The weight of that realisation threatening to crush her. Proving to be more agonising than any other source of pain coursing through her at that moment.

Conrad is wiping her tears, telling her she’s ok. That she’s going to be ok.

“Stop.”

She can’t do this. She can’t let him comfort her. He shouldn’t even be with her, here.

“Where’s Jere?”

He looks confused, she thinks. Confusion mirroring on her own face. Why is he here?

She’s trying to remember the last time they spoke, the last time she saw him. She recalls something about chocolate covered pretzels, mistletoe pyjamas – him leaning over her whilst she lay at the top of the stairs. Her heart betraying her. Him leaving in the night without a goodbye.

It doesn’t make sense for him to be here now, months later.

He mumbles some excuse; says he’s going to make a phone call. He must be calling Jeremiah, telling him she’s awake. She doesn’t want to think about what it means, that Conrad was here in the room with her, and not her boyfriend. That line of thought is too dangerous. No, he was just being a good brother.

When he comes back some ten minutes later, he’s bring a nurse with him.  

She doesn’t pay much attention as the nurse fusses over her, answering her questions robotically, too busy trying to catch Conrad’s eye. He’s avoiding her gaze though. Busying himself on his phone, only putting it away when the nurse turns to him. She tries to listen in, make out whatever they’re saying about her, but they’re whispering.

Once they’re alone once more, she tries again. Asking him where Jere is.

“He’s in Boston.”

He’s being vague on purpose. She knows, that he knows, what she’s asking. Why isn’t he here. Conrad doesn’t want to answer her – that much is clear. She figures any further questioning is futile, deciding she can just ask Jeremiah when he gets there. It’s late, still dark outside the window, and she’s exhausted.

It can wait.

Conrad’s no longer alone in the room when she wakes. Her mother and Steven now present, gathered around her bed. Jeremiah still notably absent.

“What happened?”

“You were in a car accident, Bean. A few days ago. They had to induce a coma, because of your injuries.”

She absorbs her mother’s words, trying to make sense of them. She doesn’t have a car with her at Finch, Jere is always driving her around. Jeremiah who isn’t here. Jeremiah who absolutely would be here if he could. A strangled sob escaped her mouth – was he ok? Was he in a room similar to hers? Was he – God, had something even worse happened to him?

“Jere?”

Everyone went quiet at that, and she takes that as confirmation of her worst fear. Conrad had been in her room. If Jeremiah was here, in an identical room, there was no way he wouldn’t have been there instead. Jeremiah was dead. But then she remembers, Conrad said he was in Boston. Would he have lied to her?

“Belly. What’s the last thing you remember?”

She struggles with that. Unable to place her last memory before waking up in this room. Everything is so hazy.

“I don’t, I don’t know. I know who I am. I know who you all are. I know Jeremiah and I are dating, that we’re both at Finch. I don’t. Why are you asking me this?”

Conrad gets up, excuses himself from the room. She doesn’t think much of it. Still confused over his presence here, anyway. What does unsettle her, however, is the looks on her mother and brother's faces.

Before she has a chance to question them further, the door to her room is opening and a doctor she’s never seen before is addressing her. Explaining that she has some memory loss – to which she thinks, duh. But then he’s telling her the year. And that knocks the wind out of her. How could she not remember the last six years of her life?

She doesn’t hear the rest of what the doctor says, too overwhelmed with the news just presented to her. Questions flying through her mind. She wants answers, to know what has happened in all those years, but she doesn’t know where to start.

It’s giving her a headache.

The doctor leaves soon after, she sees him talking to Conrad through the window. Conrad looks – well, he looks a mess. She hadn’t noticed before, but it’s clear now that he has not been taking care of himself. There are huge bags under his eyes. He’s wearing scrubs on his lower half, a t-shirt a size too small on the upper. Had he been by her side the whole time?

Another one for the growing list of questions already forming in her mind.

She doesn’t get a moment alone with him for hours, not until her mother and Steven head down to the cafeteria for lunch. Saying they’ll bring Conrad back something. She gets the sense this has become routine for them, over the past few days.

There are so many things she wants to ask him, and yet the first thing out of her mouth is –

“What the hell are you wearing?”

He laughs at that. It’s a nice sound. She had resolved that she would never hear that sound again, after everything that had happened between them. Clearly a lot had changed in the past six years. Things were better between them now.

“I was working, when I found out you were down here. I’ve not had a chance to get home yet, but Steven brought me a change of clothes. We’re not exactly the same size but I was able to squeeze into the t-shirt at least. The pants, however”

She’s trying to picture it, overtaken with giggles as it forms a scene in her mind. She knows she should make the most of this moment, get some answers, but it’s just so nice. So easy. Belly decides to just let herself enjoy it.

She manages to piece together small pieces of her life over the course of the day. Belly lives in New York now, working in publishing. Her and Anika have a small apartment in the East Village. She wonders about her relationship with Jeremiah, if they’re still together, but everyone is seemingly avoiding that topic.

Conrad left just before dinner time. Steven made a joke that he was starting to smell, so he’d decided it’s time – finally. She figures he’ll be back tomorrow, once he’s had a shower and a decent night’s sleep.

She waited until after he’d left to ask.

“Why isn’t Jere here?”

Pause.

“Bean. You and Jeremiah broke up, five years ago.”

And there it is.

She doesn’t know what happened between them, but she knows she’s afraid to ask. Conrad’s residence in her hospital room for the past few days, the fact he hasn’t left her side – not even to shower – scares her.

She doesn’t want to believe she’s capable of it. Of cheating on Jere with his brother. But nothing else makes sense. And deep down, Belly knew part of her heart would always belong to him.

She doesn’t know when she drifted off to sleep. But when she wakes up, it’s dark both in and outside the room. The chair Laurel was previously in, now empty. She figures they’ve left for the night.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is the sleeping form in the chair next to her bed.

He came back.

She observes him, curled up in what looks like the most uncomfortable position. His face though, his face looks peaceful. Even though his hair is a mess, falling down into his eyes. She wants to reach up, to push it out of the way, but ultimately thinks better of it.

Him being here, it means something.

Before she can think too deeply about it, he’s waking up, eyes flickering. Conrad’s looking at her, flashing her a small smile when he notices she too is awake. It feels too intimate, being alone with him like this. In the dead of night.

“I thought you went home.”

“I did.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t make excuses for why he’s back. Why he’s choosing to sleep in this chair instead of his own bed. She knows she could ask. But she has this fear, that his answer will open a can of worms she’s not ready to deal with yet. All the information she’s been presented with today is already too much. No, whatever this is, she can deal with it later. She has a feeling he’s not going anywhere.

Instead, they talk about everything but. Reminiscing on the past. Summers at the beach house. He’s relaying a memory from when they were ten and twelve, respectively, when her eyelids start to flutter shut. She wills them to stay open, just for one more minute. But sleep ultimately win out.

“Your fiancé didn’t leave your side once, you know. You’re a lucky women. They don’t make them like him anymore.”

Fiancé?

Her and Conrad are engaged?

“I’m just going to go find the doctor and let them know we’re here. The MRI shouldn’t take long and we’ll have you back upstairs to that lovely man of yours asap. One sec”

She manages a forced nod, her mind too preoccupied to genuinely absorb the nurse’s words. Her and Jeremiah apparently haven’t been together for five years, but it’s like it was yesterday to her. Finding out that now, she’s engaged to his brother, just feels like an overwhelming weight. She’s missing too many crucial pieces of the narrative.

And yet, she can’t deny the somersaults in her stomach at the thought of marrying Conrad.

Once back in her room, she can’t bring herself to look at him. Armed with this new knowledge, unsure how to proceed. She needs time to process it, first.

It’s relatively easy to avoid conversing with him, she finds. Him and Steven are deep in debate about this new TV show they’ve been enjoying. She tries to follow along but it mostly goes over her head. Belly wonders if she’d watched it, if she’d enjoyed it as much as they did.

Conrad excuses himself, a little before lunchtime. She figures he’s tired of eating cold cafeteria food. She can’t blame him, she’s already sick of hospital food and she’d been eating it for a shorter period of time than the rest of them.

He doesn’t make it back before her mom and Steven head off to grab their own lunch, but she figures he’s close by their willingness to leave her. She’s scrolling through her camera roll, hoping it’ll help her put together the missing pieces, when he’s walking back through the door. There’s a smile on his face, like he’s up to something. She smells them before she sees the bag in his hands.

“Tell me that’s what I think it is.”

“I thought you could do with a break from the food here.”

Opening the bag, she sees it’s full of giant, fluffy muffins. She’s overcome with emotion. Belly has spent all morning avoiding him, and still, he does something like this for her. It’s incredibly sweet.

She wants to do something for him in return, something that will show him how much she appreciates it. At a loss, and restricted by her current situation, she settles for something simple. Reaching over, putting her hand on his. Holding it there longer than necessary. Longer than can be explained away as a friendly gesture.

She’s not ready to deal with what they are, but she can do this.

He indulges in her touch for maybe a minute, before he’s pulling his hand back. She can tell he’s uncomfortable, determining it’s awkward for him, her not remembering their relationship. He probably feels like he’s taking advantage of her, her vulnerable state. Belly considers saying something, but her words fail her.

Conrad is seemingly struggling with the tension between them, too. Clearing his throat, he reaches for the remote, turning the TV on. They sit in silence, watching the screen, devouring the muffins.

It should be more uncomfortable than it is.

Steven leaves later that day, having to get back to work now she was awake and out of the worst of it. Laurel makes it clear she’s not leaving, not until Belly is settled back in her apartment. Conrad doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he has no intentions to leave her side either.

There was a time she was convinced he would hate her forever. That she had ruined things between her family and Susannah’s boys. Seeing Conrad and her mother, her brother, interacting over the past two days – she feels immense relief that they were able to repair that bond. She can only hope that she hadn’t ruined things completely with Jeremiah. She figures she’ll ask her mother about it, next time they’re alone.

When her mother heads back to her hotel for the night, she accepts her answers will have to wait.

“You don’t have to sleep here; I don’t mind if you go home.”

She doesn’t expect him to take her up on it, but she needs him to hear her say it. Just in case. As expected though, he brushes her off.

“Why would I do that? This chair is so unbelievably comfortable, I’ve ordered one for my own apartment. I’m just sleeping here till it gets delivered.”

Quiet settles over the room.

She’s grateful not to be alone, if she’s completely honest with herself. She’s grateful to him, to all of them, for being here with her through this. Her room was filled with flowers, sent by her loved ones that couldn’t be there physically. Taylor had sent five.

She looks to Conrad, expecting him to be asleep already. But he’s gazing directly at her. She shifts, under his stare. It emboldens her. Makes her want to approach the topic she had been avoiding all day.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

She can’t find the right words. Her thoughts come out in a jumble, but she hits the main points. It’s good enough.

“The nurse earlier, she mentioned something. She said that you were my fiancé. But I, I obviously don’t remember anything. I just – can you tell me how we…”

Conrad looks like he might faint, she thinks.

He thinks he might, too.

Chapter Text

Conrad thought that once Belly awoke from her coma, his heart rate would return to normal.

He’d imagined every conceivable scenario; her waking up, eyes searching his face with a blankness. So, when she asked for Jeremiah, a wave of relief washed over him. She at least remembered who they were. He was too consumed with this relief, for it to register any real alarm bells.

Immediately, he ran through a checklist in his mind, noting all the tasks that demanded attention now that she was awake. Conrad realised that he had to call Laurel first, before all else. Despite the late hour and his certainty that he would be intruding on her slumber, he knew without a doubt that if the roles were reversed, he would welcome the interruption. Laur would want to be there.

It’s when she asked after Jeremiah a second time that he sensed something was amiss. Conrad understood the gravity of the situation, the necessity of handling it delicately, deciding then that the best approach was to give up as little information as possible – at least until she could be seen by her doctor. Waiting until they knew the extent of her condition. If he said too much, if he overwhelmed her – he couldn’t risk inadvertently stressing her out further and exacerbating her amnesia.  

Laurel and Steven arrived at the hospital not thirty minutes later, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. Belly was unconscious, again, overtaken by sleep that time – something Conrad didn’t want to disrupt. He greeted them silently, motioning for them to follow him back out into the corridor where they could converse freely.

Under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, they had spoken in hushed tones. Mindful not to disturb those around them. They took the opportunity to get onto the same page regarding Belly’s condition and how to handle it moving forward. Determined to navigate the situation carefully, an agreement was made to steer clear of any topics that might evoke intense emotions. Conrad had also made a personal promise to himself, to keep his own emotions in check. Pledging he would show up for her in the ways that she needed; as a friend, a pillar of strength upon which she could lean.

He hadn’t realised he needed to have a conversation with the nurses, too.

He almost wants to laugh, despite how inappropriate it would be in that moment. Of course, his lie would come back to haunt him. He hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead – thought how he would explain this away to anyone that might ask. Especially not Belly.

It would be the perfect time for the earth to open up and swallow him whole, he thinks.

“Belly. I’m sorry, we’re not - “

Confusion coloured her features. He couldn’t help but wonder how she was processing it all, her head still perfectly intact. His own felt like a pressure cooker that was about to explode. He wills it then, prays for it, wanting to put an end to this moment.

Conrad knew he could just tell the truth, admit that he’d fabricated the lie to ensure he’d be able to stay there – next to her. Unable to focus on work, to continue about his day, knowing the fragile condition she was in. It was the only way he could think to explain her importance to his colleagues. She would have questions about that, though. About why he felt compelled to stay by her side, despite the fact that they’d not seen each other once in the past five years. But then, she wasn’t exactly aware of that small detail.

Her recovery was the most important thing, and he couldn’t break his promise already.

“Me and you, we’re not together. I didn’t even know you were living in New York until I bumped into Steven this week. Things got complicated, between us all, a while back. While you and Jeremiah were still together. We hadn’t yet found our way back together, until now. I hate that you were hurt but I’m really happy to see you again.”

He watches the truth settle on her lips, her mouth forming a perfect oval shape.

“The nurse – she said you hadn’t left my side? Why, if we’re not – “

Conrad expected this, these questions.

“Belly, you’re my family.”

He knows she can’t argue with that. No matter what happens, no matter how many years pass by; they would always show up for each other when it truly counted.

Her eyes revealed a pool of unanswered questions, but she evidently chose to refrain from delving deeper. Deciding instead to make herself comfortable in her bed and settle in for the night. She looked peaceful once she finally drifted off.

He watches her, as she sleeps.

Allowing himself a moment to indulge, he thinks back to earlier when her hand was on his. How it remained warm, in that spot, for almost an hour after. Had she just done that because she thought they were engaged? Were there any hidden feelings behind the gesture?

Was it wrong, for him to have hope?

Conrad convinces himself she was just acting on what the nurse had told her, a practical response rather than an expression of deeper feeling. He knew that allowing himself to entertain thoughts of anything more would only lead to disappointment and heartache. With a sigh, he resolved to stop torturing himself with “what it’s” and instead decides to join Belly in slumber.

They’re just friends.

He wakes early the next morning, greeted by the soft rays of first sunlight filtering through the window. A pleasant reprieve from the unsettling images that his resting mind had conjured.

It was the worst day of his life, that he was sure of. This made it real. He couldn’t pretend she was still out there, happy, and spritely, any longer. There was a hand at his shoulder, but he couldn’t turn to face its owner. He should be comforting her today. No parent should have to bury their own child.

He was barely holding it together.

The vicar was still speaking, going on about how Belly was surely in a better place now. He had to hold in a scoff at that. There was no better place for her than in his arms, it was a fact of the universe. How can this man, who barely knew her, stand in front of all of them and spout such utter nonsense.

He was using all of his will power to not look at the coffin, only meters ahead of him. He didn’t want to picture her lifeless body. To accept that he would never see her smile grace her face again. That he would never be able to hold her once more.

Laurel was crying by his side and he knew he should do something, pull her into a hug. But then the vicar starts reciting a poem about life after death, and his lungs are suddenly faltering. He has to get out of there. His feet carry him out into the corridor, his every conscious thought consumed with regulating his breathing – and still failing.

He sees Belly waiting there, dressed in white, looking like an angel. The relief flooding through him was palpable. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, desperate to feel her in his arms. To put an end to his living nightmare. But no matter how close he gets, she’s just out of grasp.

“I’ve seen Susannah, Connie.”

That halts him, his rational mind trying to conjure up something real, something tangible, that could explain all this.

“She’s been watching over us, all these years. Watching us as we keep making mistakes. She’s so disappointed in you, in you breaking your promise to her. You promised you would take care of Jeremiah, Con. How could you fail her so spectacularly?”

“Belly, no. Stop”

She doesn’t say anything else, just looks at him with such distain. Such hatred. She looks so unlike herself. He knows he did this. He’s responsible for all of this. He wants to fix it, but she’s walking away from him. Fading from his vision. He tries to call after her, to beg her to come back, but his voice fails him.

Leaning back in his chair, he sighs deeply. His hands trembling as they run through his dishevelled hair. The room felt colder, emptier, as if the nightmare had sapped it of all its warmth.

A snore escaped Belly’s lips, shifting his focus to her resting figure. The suffocating weight of the dream began to lift as he watched her, the sharp contrast between the darkness of his nightmare and the tangible warmth of Belly’s presence enveloping him. Conrad felt an intense need to hold her. He inched closer, reaching forward to delicately brush a stray strand of hair away from her face.

Aware that his chances of getting back to sleep were basically non-existent, he opted instead to pass the time on his phone. He wasn’t expecting there to be a reply from Jeremiah, but that didn’t stop him from hoping for one. Conrad had attempted to contact him multiple times over the past few days, sent him countless texts. But he was yet to be graced with anything other than his voicemail greeting. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. He understood that things were cordial at best between Belly and Jeremiah following their failed engagement, but even despite their complicated history, he had thought that maybe he would want to be here. Be with his family.

Staring at their text thread, it occurred to him how unlike brothers they sounded. The bond between them had been fractured irreparably, the cracks widening further after their mother’s death and the tumultuous events that followed in its wake. He had tried, to keep his promise to Susannah – to look after Jeremiah. Thinking the best thing he could do for their relationship was to leave. But now, haunted by the words spoken by dream Belly, Conrad couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the wrong decision. Had his absence only served to further the distance between them, rather than heal it? Had he failed his mother?

One glance at Belly, that’s all it takes, for him to dispel such thoughts from his mind. Given the opportunity to rewind time, to do it all again, the only alteration he would make would be to fight for her sooner. He wouldn’t wait until the eve of her wedding to be truthful about his feelings. Conrad would, instead, transport himself directly back to that fateful night on the beach – the night he burned all bridges – and rectify his one biggest mistake.

“We do. We do love each other.”

He spoke the words aloud, them flowing from his lips with a sincere ease. If he had only summoned the courage to speak these words those many years ago.

Conrad knew Susannah would undoubtedly be disappointed in him, but solely for allowing Belly to slip away. She had always believed in them, in the love between them. He could almost hear her voice, gentle yet firm, expressing her unwavering belief in their connection. It wasn’t just a belief; she had said as much, words written in a letter addressed to him. In that letter, she had confided that she had only observed Conrad truly in love once – when they were together. His mother knew his own heart before he could even fully comprehend it himself.

Crafting yet another text message to Jeremiah, he prayed this would be the one that would finally elicit a response. He couldn’t fathom how his brother could just turn it off, any care he had for Belly. Conrad knew he lacked the capacity to do the same.

His love for her was so deeply ingrained, as if it were etched into the very fabric of his DNA.

Conrad remained in deep thought as the morning unfolded. Belly and Laurel conversed beside him, intermittently attempting to involve him, but mostly allowing him to dwell undisturbed. The ambient hum of their laughter and chatter formed a comforting backdrop for his contemplation.

He was freed from his musings by the arrival of the doctor, carrying with him positive news – Belly’s physical wounds had healed well enough that she would be discharged later that day. Conrad knew keeping her in hospital any longer was futile, that her chances of recovering her memories were much greater back in her normal environment. Guiltily, though, he couldn’t help but wonder how he would fit into her life – and healing journey – once they left the hospital room.

He wasn’t ready to leave her side, yet.

Whilst they waited for the discharge papers, Laurel made herself scarce, opting instead to use the time for a grocery run. It had been more than a week since Belly was last at her apartment, and Laurel was convinced that even then, it was unlikely she kept a well-stocked fridge. Conrad took this as confirmation that his friend’s diet hadn’t evolved over the years, remaining loyal to her staples, mac ‘n’ cheese and candy.   

They sat in silence for almost half an hour before Belly spoke.

“Con, can we talk?” she began. “I’m sorry, you know, if I made things awkward between us last night. Honestly, I struggled to believe it when the nurse told me we were engaged – but then I also never thought I’d live in New York. It’s just all so, like so confusing right now.”

He tried not to let it show on his face, how much hurt that statement caused him. Accepting that the one thing he yearned for above all else, was something she found so incredibly challenging to envision, was difficult for him. But Conrad shook those thoughts free. Banished them from his mind. She was clearly struggling, she needed him to be a friend.

“Bells, we’re good. I promise you.”

Belly didn’t appear convinced in the slightest. She chewed on the corner of her mouth for over a minute before finally parting her lips once more.

“You’ve been quiet all day. I might not know what’s happened for the last six years of my life, but I know you. Something is up. Tell me.”

He figured he could get away with a half-truth.

“I had a bad dream, about my mum. That’s all. It’s not you, really.”

He can’t discern whether or not she buys it, her face unreadable. It seemed like she was on the verge of saying something else, but he was spared the further interrogation by the arrival of a nurse.

Belly was finally free to leave.

“I have my car, downstairs. I can take you home. Meet Laurel there. If you want?”

She appears to consider it for two seconds, no longer. Then she’s smiling at him. God, he will never take that smile for granted ever again.

“Let’s go.”

A matching smile grows on his own face.

Conrad hates New York right now.

He knew he was going five miles under the speed limit, navigating through the streets with an unprecedented level of caution. Aware that people in this city were impatient first, human second. They could blare their horns at him all day long, he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him in that moment was making sure that Belly was comfortable.

She was seated in the passenger seat next to him, zoned out. Thoughts probably consumed with the reality that this was her first time in a car since the accident – an accident she couldn’t yet recall. Despite that fact, he could tell that she was nervous. She was absentmindedly rocking her leg. Picking at her nails.

Conrad felt an urge to comfort her. To reach across the middle console and take her hand in his. To rub his thumb in a soothing manner against the back of her hand. Deciding that doing so might instead increase her anxiety, not lessen it, he kept his hands placed firmly on the steering wheel.

He’s no longer going five miles under the speed limit. The once seamless flow of traffic now resembling a slow-moving procession. Conrad’s cursing under his breath, of course. Being stuck in traffic, prolonging Belly’s time trapped inside the confines of his car, was quite possibly the last thing they needed at that moment.

They sit in silence, the hum of engines filling the air like a discordant symphony. His truck rendered motionless amidst a sea of vehicles. Desperate to fill the quiet with, well, anything but the low hum of idling cars, he shifts his attention to the radio controls. It’s whilst he’s shuffling between stations, unable to locate a single one broadcasting music, that he’s hit with the idea. Turning the radio off, Conrad focuses instead on his phone, scrolling until he finds a song that he knows Belly loves.

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years?

Belly turned to him as the melody started playing through the car’s speakers, instant recognition sparking in her eyes. It was her favourite song, a long time ago. A piece of music that had once held significance for both of them.

She’d played it on repeat that last summer in Cousins.

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I’ve love you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all

Conrad recalls walking in on her one sunny afternoon, completely lost in the rhythm of her own joy. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow upon her as she danced around the kitchen, twirling and swaying with a bowl of pasta in hand. She was mumbling along to the lyrics with her mouth stuffed full. Pausing her feast, only momentarily, to chant along to the bridge.

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I’ll save you a seat, lover

He’d kept himself out of view, leaning against the doorframe, not wanting to intrude on the moment she was having. A tender smile playing on his lips as he watched her. He’d known, then, that he would love her forever. Allowed himself to pretend that – just for a second – they were still together, and this was just a normal, mundane moment in their lives. That he would experience many more afternoons like this. In that kitchen, in that house, he envisioned a lifetime of love and happiness, intertwined with the woman who had captured his heart so completely.

She’d looked truly radiant.

Conrad’s was certain those lyrics would be permanently etched in his mind, even now. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t resist joining in with Belly as she sang along, much to her surprise. “All’s well that ends well to end up with you,” they crooned together, their voices intertwining in a harmonious blend. He hoped she couldn’t hear the emotion in his voice as he sang those lyrics, how they were his truth.

As the chorus played for the last time, he took her in. Appreciating the noticeable shift in her demeanour compared to five minutes prior. Gone was the restlessness that had characterised her movement earlier, now, her body swaying gently to the music in a rhythm all its own. Her leg had even stopped shaking.

They’re stuck like that, in traffic, for the next hour. Taking turns picking songs. The confines of the car transformed into a makeshift concert hall. The strains of music filling the air, drowning out the honking horns and the sounds of engines around them. Despite the external chaos of the stagnant traffic, within those four doors, they found a semblance of harmony. It felt domestic. He could have gladly stayed there, with her, for another hour. Maybe two.

At her apartment door, Belly pauses. He senses that she’s unsure about what lies beyond the boundary. A life, her life – only one so unfamiliar to her it may as well belong to a stranger. He can’t imagine what she’s feeling in that moment. Determining to be the source of courage she so desperately needs; he gently takes her hand in his.

“Ready?”

He watches her take three deep breaths before turning to him, nodding her head, and repeating the word back to him. Her delivery devoid of any inflection. She continues to hold his hand as they cross through the doorway, grasping onto it even whilst they stand in her living room. Actually, he’s pretty sure she tightens her grip once they’re inside.

They don’t venture further into her apartment, instead choosing to take up residence on the sofa. Its cushions cradle them, forming a sanctuary against the backdrop of her complex emotions. Tension etches itself on her face; her brows furrowed, her jaw clenched. The overwhelm evident. Conrad’s thumb moves on its own accord, with a mechanical back-and-forth action, an involuntary bodily reflex triggered by seeing her in such distress.

Laurel finds them like that, seeking refuge on the sofa, hands bound together. Her questioning gaze pierces through him, leaving a searing impression on his skin. Conrad knew she wouldn’t say anything to him in front of Belly, but still despite that knowledge, he felt the need to say something.

“So, uh – how was the grocery store?"

“You’re asking me about the… grocery store?” she states, clearly amused. “It was great. Thrilling really. You know, as grocery stores go.”

They fall into comfortable conversation, discussing the superiority of Trader Joe’s and sharing tales of the traffic they’d both encountered. Belly sits quietly beside him the whole time, a thoughtful observer to their exchange. It’s not until he feels her grip on his hand weaken that he realises she had fallen asleep. The exhaustion of the day overtaking her, pulling her under.

Mindful not to disturb her, Conrad delicately gathers up her slumbering form, cradling her in his arms with a tenderness that echoed the depth of his affection. “Which one am I, which room is hers?” he whispers, very aware of the body pressed closely against his own.

Laurel gestures to the door at the end of the corridor, tracing his path with her finger. He navigates along it, careful to avoid any abrupt movements that might disrupt Belly’s peaceful repose, until he finds sanctuary inside her room. Conrad catches fleeting glimpses of the space as he approaches the bed – a wall adorned with countless photos, a desk littered with trinkets, a patterned quilt abandoned in a pile on the floor. Resting her on the bed, he adjusts the blanket around her, tucking her in.

He lingers at the end of her bed, curiosity taking hold of him. The room surrounding him full of clues about the woman Belly had become. He wondered whether he would find any trace of himself within those walls. Deciding against disrespecting her privacy, he made a move to leave, when he noticed it – the framed picture on her beside table. Pride of place. A snapshot from their past, when they were still together. Snowflakes daintily gracing their features.

Conrad had anticipated a picture of the summer kids somewhere, at most. Evidence he hadn’t been completely erased from her life. But this, it was beyond his wildest dreams. They hadn’t spoken in five years and yet she kept a picture of him, of them, next to her bed.

His thoughts are drawn to the worn-down polaroid tucked in the back of his wallet. Edges frayed from the countless times he’d pulled it out haphazardly whilst drunk. It had been a while since the last time he’d retrieved it, the frequency diminishing over the years, but he refused to part with it. Carrying the photograph with him everywhere he went.

He wanted to shake her awake, ask her if this photograph held the same meaning for her as the polaroid did for him. The Belly before him would probably be more shocked to see it than he had, though. He figured the picture would be promptly replaced with one of Jeremiah.

He’d have to be patient.

“You hungry?”

Laurel offers him a quiet smile.

“Starving.”

Conrad paused for a moment to familiarise himself with the layout of the kitchen, taking note of where everything is located, before retrieving a chopping board and making a start on an assortment of vegetables. Peeling, slicing, dicing. He wasn’t entirely sure what dish he was assembling – thinking to himself that he could figure that out later – he was just desperate for a distraction, something to preoccupy his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about what he’d just seen.

She leaves him to it, tapping away on her phone instead. Her fingers dancing across the screen with a practiced ease. He wondered who she was texting, whether she’d reached out to Jeremiah. If he’d graced her with a response. He figures he should ask her, the words forming on the tip of his tongue.

“Is this sofa going to be comfortable enough for you tonight?”

Wait.

“It’s ok? If I stay here?”

Laurel’s expression morphed into one of sheer perplexity, as though he’d just posed the most absurd question imaginable. Her fingers halted their movements atop her screen. Conrad found the idea of leaving unconceivable, but he would never force his place there. He didn’t expect that Belly would want him sleeping in her apartment.

“Connie, I know how much you care about her. Still. I would never tell you to leave.”

“I don’t think it matters what I want right now Laur. I’m not sure Belly, this Belly, would want me here. I’m not Jere,” he remarked, his sadness about the matter written all over his face. “I just want to do what’s best for her.”

“She might not remember the past six years, but you’ve been important to her since way before then. Your being here for her, it’s what’s going to help her through this. And for what it’s worth, I know she’d want you here – with or without her memories.”

Conrad’s not sure how to respond to that. Instead, he remains silent, allowing the weight of the words to settle in the air. His instincts were to deny it, deny that he meant anything to her – but the argument evaded him.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Huh?"

“That you still love her. Once she gets her memories back,” she stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Connie, please don’t even think about lying to me right now. I’ve known you your whole life and I know what it means – the look you get in your eyes – when you look at her. Besides, even I wouldn’t sleep in that hospital chair and I’m her mother.”

The game they’d been playing, of dancing around his feelings for Belly, was clearly over. Laurel emerging the obvious winner. Finally, he could be honestly with someone else, anyone else, but himself.

“I love her,” inhale. “I’ll always love her.”

No further words were necessary; the truth written in every line upon his face. Belly was his raison d’être. He had loved her from the moment she drew her first breath, and he knew he would love her until he drew his last.

The living room was enveloped in darkness, save for the soft, muted glow filtering through the window from a nearby streetlamp. Casting long shadows that seem to sway and intertwine. Conrad observes them from his position on the couch, their rhythmic dance against the wall almost hypnotic.

He’s exhausted, truly. Yet despite that, sleep remained an elusive dream – taunting him with its unreachable embrace. His eyelids weigh heavily against his face, each blink a slow and deliberate effort.

Belly was only down the hall, mere metres away, and yet the distance felt insurmountable. She may as well have been in a different time zone. The void next to him echoed with a haunting emptiness. Conrad had grown accustomed to sleeping next to her, across from her. Her rhythmic breathing acted like a soothing bedtime melody, helping him drift off – without which he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to sleep again.

Each passing minute felt like an eternity.

He finally admitted defeat, rising from the confines of the sofa, and shuffled towards the kitchen. The floorboards creaking beneath his feet with each step. His movements were sluggish as he filled a glass with water, the cooling liquid only offering a fleeting moment of relief. Conrad let out a resigned sigh.

He felt himself drawn towards Belly’s room as if by an invisible thread. His feet moving of their own volition, carrying him along the familiar path to her room. Pausing at the threshold, a moment of hesitation washed over him, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. He knew that he was about to cross a boundary – both physically and figuratively – but he needed to see her, to ensure her safety. The door hinges protested softly as he gently pushed it open. The sight of her lay there, unchanged from when he’d left her earlier, calmed all his anxieties.

Crossing into the room, he closed the door behind him. Not wanting the glow from the streetlamps to intrude on her slumber. She looked angelic, her hair fanned out around her head like a halo, framing her peaceful countenance. He was sure no one had ever looked more beautiful, ever.

Conrad lowered himself onto the floor next to her bed, his gaze fixated on her still form. Her rhythmic lullaby serenading him into a state of calm. With each passing moment, the tension in his muscles eased, replaced by a sense of contentment. Unable to support his weight any longer, he relinquished his upright posture, finding solace in the cool embrace of the floor beneath him. It was there that he drifted into a peaceful sleep of his own, the faintest smile playing upon his lips.

He was abruptly jolted awake by a sudden weight pressing down on him. With a startled gasp, he blinked his eyes open to find Belly standing above him, her bare feet inadvertently stepping onto his prone form. He scrambled to sit up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realised the reality of the situation.

“Sorry I uh – I didn’t mean to sleep here.”

Meeting Belly’s amused gaze, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. Hastily brushing off any lingering traces of sleep, he mustered a sheepish grin, hoping to downplay his embarrassment with a light-hearted demeanour.

“What’s this? You’re attempting to find the most uncomfortable places to sleep?” she questioned, glee twinkling in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I’m hoping to get my article published in the New York Times.”

“They don’t pay doctors what they used to.”

Conrad couldn’t help but admire the way Belly’s eyes sparkled with mirth, her playful spirit casting a warmth over the room. In the quiet moments that followed, they shared a meaningful glance, a silent understanding of their bond. It was in these simple exchanges that their connection deepened.

He watched as a wave of discomfort washed over her face. He could sense her internal struggle, recognising the subtle cues of self-reproach flickering across her features. With a forced smile, she attempted to conceal her unease, but the lingering awkwardness hung palpably between them. She excused herself, all but running out of the room – across the corridor to the sanctity of the bathroom.

Conrad had to be more careful.

They make plans to meet Laurel at a local café for breakfast, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcoming them as they stepped inside. Belly followed him into the bustling space, her steps uncertain and her face a portrait of apprehension. Conrad noted his want to hold her hand – yet again – but pushed it away, too on edge after the events of earlier that morning. Instead, he sought out a secluded table nestled in the corner of the room, giving Belly some much needed solace.

After they settle in their seats, he notices her fixating on the menu board with a laser-like focus, using it as a shield. Each item listed a lifeline, a distraction from the turmoil swirling in her mind. Sensing her need for space, he refrains from interrupting her silent struggle, allowing her the time and space to find her footing.

Laurel joins them soon after, her presence interrupting the tension that was buzzing around Belly’s slumped figure. Taking hold of her daughter’s hand and intertwining their fingers, she effortlessly eases her distress. Conrad’s eyes brighten with relief as he watches them, the atmosphere shifting into one of warmth and tranquillity – as if a ray of sunlight had pierced through the clouds, illuminating the room with a soothing glow.

Belly accompanies him to the counter, offering to help carry the drinks, though he can see through her guise. She’d been too preoccupied with her worrying earlier to make a decision on her order. With a tentative smile, she glances up at the menu board again, her eyes scanning the array of tempting options.

“Hey! You having the usual?”

“Uh -”

Conrad cringes internally, berating himself for his café choice. Of course, he had inadvertently chosen her regular haunt. He quickly turns to the barista before Belly has a chance to comment, forcing a smile, hoping to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable coincidence.

“I would like to hear all about this usual, I am very much undecided and in need of some serious swaying,” he says it in a light-hearted tone, aiming to divert attention away from Belly without raising any questions. His tactic works like a charm, the barista launching into an explanation of the overly sweet, overly complicated drink that Belly loves so much. He studies her face as the barista speaks, searching for any hint of approval – or recognition – in her expression. Noticing how her eyes light up at the description, he promptly adds two to their order.

Back at the apartment, Belly appears visibly drained – the trip to the coffee shop having taken an emotional toll. She sank into the sofa cushions as if the weight of the day was pressing down on her. Sensing her exhaustion, Conrad grabbed and draped a blanket over her shoulders, tucking it around her like a protective cocoon.

He retrieved snacks from the kitchen while Belly mused over what to watch, grabbing three packets of sour patch kids – just in case. As he settled down beside her, the faintest of smiles graces his lips at her choice of movie. It Happened One Night.

While they watched, the soft glow of the television enveloped them in a comforting ambiance. The room occasionally filling with the gentle rustle of the blanket and the soft crunch of popcorn between bites. Conrad found himself drawn into the romantic narrative, the black and white images transporting him to a bygone era of love and adventure. Yet, amidst the allure of the film, he couldn’t help but be acutely aware of Belly’s presence beside him. Stealing glances at her throughout the entirety.

Towards the end of the movie, he reached towards at the popcorn mindlessly – pulling his hand back as it makes contact with Belly’s. The warmth of her hand against his own sending a jolt of electricity through him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Both hands hovered in the air, inches apart and yet seemingly connected by an invisible thread. It only lasts for one second, before time starts up again. One second before they’re pulling even further away.

Belly nestled deeper into her blanket nest, a silent retreat from the intimacy of the moment, abandoning the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table. The credits are rolling, yet they both watch the screen with great concentration. It was small, so small you could debate its existence, and yet he knew that moment would stay with him forever.

As the credits faded to black and the room fell silent, Conrad allowed himself one last glance at Belly. Her eyes still trained on the dark screen. He redirected his attention to the mess around them, scattered empty cans and packets – his eyes finding them amongst the debris.

Three empty sour patch packets.

With quiet determination, he began to tidy up the room, gathering up the discarded wrappers with careful efficiency. As he moved above the space, he occasionally glimpsed at Belly, hoping to see her emerge from her cocoon of contemplation. But her gaze remained steadfastly fixed on the television screen. Leaving her to her thoughts, he moved towards the kitchen with his hands full. She would talk when she was ready.

Conrad had lost track of time as he busied himself in the kitchen, having tasked himself with making them a proper meal for dinner. As he stirred the simmering pot on the stove, he heard the faint sound of a key turning in the lock. He assumed it was Laurel, returning earlier than expected from the work she had stayed behind to complete at the café.

He’d almost forgotten that Belly had a roommate.

“Hi, you’re Conrad, right? I’m Anika.”

He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and made his way into the living room, a friendly smile already forming on his lips. He had an overwhelming sense that this was important, that he needed to make a good impression.

“Hi – yes. Sorry. It’s nice to meet you,” he stuttered out, unable the mask the nerves coursing through his body. “Are you hungry? I was just making dinner.”

Anika glanced in Belly’s direction, an unreadable expression on her face. It was one of those looks exchanged between intimate friends, carrying a message that transcended words. Yet, Belly seemed oblivious to its significance, it’s meaning lost alongside her memories.

“Dinner would be great, I’m just – let me go get changed.”

As Anika disappeared into her room to freshen up, Conrad’s attention snapped back to the kitchen, the pot on the stove bubbling over. With a muttered curse under his breath, he quickly rushed to lower the heat and salvage the dinner he had been preparing. Relieved that the meal wasn’t ruined, he wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over his shoulder towards the living room – where Belly remained lost in her own world.

“Has she remembered anything yet?”

He almost jumped at Anika’s sudden appearance beside him, her presence catching him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to return so quickly. He turned to face her, trying to maintain his composure despite the sudden rush of anxiety that flooded his senses.

“No. Nothing. Not yet,” he replied, his voice soft, betraying the weight of uncertainty that hung heavily in the air. “But we’re hopeful that she will, soon. It’s a slow process.”

Anika nodded, her expression thoughtful as she processed his words.

“It’s weird, she’s my best friend – my person. You know. And earlier she looked at me like I was nothing but an acquaintance. You’re lucky that she remembers your past, together. You still have all this history.”

“Because I’ve not been a part of her life for the past however many years?” he questions, unable to stop the words before they’re out in the world. He feels like an asshole as soon as he says them. “Sorry. It’s been a really hard few days and I didn’t mean to – it’s hard for us all. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I was in your position, if she’d forgotten all the memories we’ve shared. Are you ok?”

Her expression softens at his words, understanding dawning in her eyes as she realised the weight of his own struggle. She shook her head gently, a reassuring smile playing on her lips.

“It’s okay, Conrad,” she replied, her voice gentle and forgiving. “She told me all about your history. I know how much you care about her. If you need to get your frustration out, all I ask if that you steer clear of my mug collection – break one of them and I won’t be so forgiving.”

He nodded, grateful for her empathy. He appreciated her willingness to offer him forgiveness and understanding, even in the midst of their shared struggles.

“Your mug collection is safe with me, don’t worry,” he replied, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

As they sat down to eat, the heaviness of their earlier conversation seemed to evaporate into the air. Belly joined them at the table, taking the seat next to Conrad, their shoulders almost touching. His presence beside her a comforting anchor. Conrad and Anika took the lead in steering the conversation towards lighter topics, exchanging anecdotes and sharing laughter as they enjoyed the meal.

With the meal consumed and the dishes washed, each of them sought out their own space within the apartment. Conrad retreated to the living room, sinking into the comfort of the sofa, while Anika disappeared into her room, no doubt seeking solace in the quiet of her own thoughts. Belly, too, seemed to gravitate towards her own corner of the apartment.

It’s later that night, as he’s stood in front of the bathroom mirror, preparing for bed, that she seeks him out. A soft knock on the door. Surprised, he turned to see Belly standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Conrad’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, a mixture of concern and curiosity flickering in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing Belly to enter the bathroom.

“Hey. Is everything ok?”

Belly hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to articulate her thoughts. Then, with a sigh, she finally spoke.

“I made you a bed,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “On the floor. It’s not really a bed, just a blanket. But it’s yours – if you want it?”

“Oh. You didn’t have to – I don’t want to impose. The sofa is fine, really.”

He studied her face intently, searching for any sign of relief but finding none. Instead, he notices a quiet resolve in her expression, as if she’s determined to prioritise his comfort over her own.

“Actually, I would be honoured to sleep on your makeshift bed,” he responds, his tone gentle yet sincere. A warm smile spreads across his face as he continues, “Thank you, for thinking of me.”

Chapter Text

As the night draped its heavy curtain over the room, Belly found herself unable to surrender to sleep’s embrace. Tossing and turning, she felt the weight of restlessness settle upon her like a suffocating shroud. The silence of the room amplified the cacophony of thoughts swirling within her mind. While she lay there, tangled in the sheets of her own unease, she couldn’t help but envy Conrad’s serene repose.

Despite the unforgiving hardness of the floor beneath him, he had managed to slip into a deep and undisturbed sleep. His face, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, exuded an aura of serene calmness. The lines of worry that often creased his brow were smoothed away in slumber. With each rise and fall of his chest, she couldn’t help but marvel at the tranquillity that seemed to cloak him, a stark contrast to the chaos that churned within her own brain.

She had convinced herself that inviting him to stay in her room was an act of selflessness, a way to repay the comfort he had unfalteringly offered her since her accident. Yet, as the night wore on, she couldn’t ignore the unsettling truth gnawing at her. The real reason lurked in the shadows of her subconscious, whispering of a deeper yearning that she hesitated to acknowledge.

They were just friends.

When she chose Jeremiah, she pushed any lingering feelings she had for his brother out of her heart. Or at least, she tried to. Like stubborn ghosts, they lingered, refusing to be banished. Being around him again, she couldn’t deny the flutter of her heart whenever his gaze met hers, or the warmth that spread through her at the mere sound of his voice. It was a dangerous dance she was playing with her emotions – and she felt incredibly guilty about it.

It felt like she was betraying Jeremiah’s memory by entertaining such thoughts of his brother. Each flicker of attraction was accompanied by a pang of remorse, as if she were committing a grave transgression against a love that had once been cherished. That still was cherished, for her.

With a heavy heart, she rolled over in the bed, a sigh escaping her lips like a whisper in the stillness of the night. The weight of her conflicted emotions pressed upon her, threatening to suffocate her in their grasp. It was a tumultuous battle between loyalty to the past and the undeniable pull of the present. Caught between two worlds, she felt adrift, unable to chart a course forward without the guidance of her forgotten past.

Determined to distract herself from the turmoil swirling within, she turned her thoughts to the soothing rhythm of Conrad’s breathing as he slept peacefully beside her. Each inhale and exhale providing a momentary respite. With each breath, she allowed herself to sink deeper into the serenity of the night.

As Belly stirred from her slumber, her senses were abruptly awakened by the faint sound of scratching coming from the direction of the fire escape. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she opened her eyes, the morning light filtering through the curtains as she listened intently. There it was again, a soft yet persistent noise, unmistakably the sound of a cat’s claws against the metal grating. Curiosity piqued, Belly sat up in bed, casting a glance towards the window where the sound originated.

“Were we expecting company?” Conrad mumbled from his position on the floor, his voice laced with drowsiness.

“Not that I know of,” she replied softly, offering him a small smile before turning back to the window. With a shared sense of inquisitiveness, they watched as the source of the noise revealed itself – a small tabby cat, its amber eyes glistening in the daylight. As the cat paused on the fire escape, its gaze meeting theirs with a curious tilt of its head, Belly and Conrad exchanged a look.

“No.”

“What?”

“No, we are not kidnapping that cat.”

Belly couldn’t help but chuckle at Conrad’s unexpected remark, a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she shook her head in amusement. “No, we are not kidnapping that cat,” she agreed, her voice laced with laughter. “But maybe a little cuddle? For the patient?”

Conrad paused for a moment, before nodding in agreement. “Fine,” he replied, “but only until I’m done showering. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Adorned with a contented smile, she observed as Conrad lifted the cat into his arms. The small tabby seemed to melt into his embrace, emitting a soft purr of approval as it nestled against him with evident affection. She felt a wave of warmth wash over her at the sight. Before she could dwell on the feeling, he gently handed the cat over to her and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving them alone.

They recline against her bed, the cat nestled against her chest, its gentle humming filling the room with a comforting melody. Each stroke of her hand across its fur brings a sensation of softness beneath her fingertips. Losing herself in the rhythmic motion of her hand and the soothing sound of the cat’s purring, they linger there, oblivious to the passage of time. It’s only when the cat suddenly leaps off the bed, that Belly snaps out of her reverie.

With a soft exhale, she sits up, ready to embrace the day ahead.

Stepping into the living room, her footsteps echo softly against the floorboards. Conrad, absorbed in conversation, offers her a fleeting nod of acknowledgement before returning his focus to whoever is on the other end of the phone call. Sensing his need for privacy, Belly pauses for a moment, her gaze lingering on Conrad briefly before she quietly redirects her steps towards the kitchen.

He finds her there, only minutes later, preparing a cup of tea.

“I need to head back to my apartment, is there anything you need before I leave?”

Belly’s hand pauses mid-motion. With a steadying breath, she strives to conceal the pang of disappointment that threatens to overwhelm her. Turning to face him, she summons a reassuring smile, a delicate facade to cloak the subtle ache in her heart. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” she responds, her voice betraying none of the turmoil churning beneath the surface.

As he prepares to leave, she focuses her attention on the mundane task of emptying the dishwasher, a feeble attempt to distract herself from the weight of his imminent departure. Her attempts are hindered by her unfamiliarity with the layout of the kitchen. With each dish she picks up, she hesitates, uncertain of its rightful place. Frustration mounts within her as she shuffles awkwardly around the space, searching for clues to guide her in this monotonous chore.

“Last cupboard on the right.”

She startles at the unexpected voice, turning to see Conrad standing in the doorway, a small smirk playing on his lips. His simple instruction offers a moment of relief amidst her frustration. Grateful for his assistance, she follows his guidance, carefully placing the dish in its designated spot.

“Don’t worry about that, I can empty it when I get back,” he offers, his admission that he will be returning instantly easing the tension within her. “Laur should be here within the next five minutes, do you want me to wait with you until she arrives?”

“No, that’s ok. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

Laurel manages to coax her out of the house, again, this time under the pretence of wanting to grab lunch at a restaurant in the area. Before she knows it, Belly finds herself comfortably seated at a table, their orders already placed – Laurel had taken charge and ordered for the both of them.

Watching as her mother sips from the glass of water the waiter had promptly brought out, she senses it’s an opportune moment to address the lingering questions that had been weighing on her mind. With a subtle nod of determination, she prepares herself to broach the subject.

“Mom, what happened between me and Jeremiah?”

Laurel almost chokes on her water, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected question. Her eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she seems at a loss for words. Belly takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the response she knows won’t come easily. After a moment of silence, Laurel clears her throat, her expression shifting to one of gentle concern. “Oh, Bean,” she begins, her voice soft and measured. “It’s complicated.

“Please.”

Sensing that she wouldn’t be able to evade this conversation, Laurel sighs softly. “I don’t know all the details,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with regret. “But after your freshman year of college, you and Jeremiah – well, you got engaged.” Her words trail off, revealing the gravity of the situation. Belly’s mind races as she absorbs this unexpected revelation.

“I got married?”

“No, no. The wedding didn’t happen. It was called off the morning of,” she clarified. Questions swirl in Belly’s eyes, but before she can voice them, Laurel reaches out, gently squeezing her hand in a gesture of comfort. “You were too young, both of you. You were barely adults. The engagement, it was for all the wrong reasons. I think you realised that just before it was too late.”

As Belly absorbs this new piece of information, a mix of emotions washes over her – relief, confusion, and a twinge of sadness. She tries to piece together fragments of memories that refuse to resurface, grappling with the weight of a past she can’t fully grasp.

“We didn’t break up because of Conrad? I mean, I didn’t – I didn’t cheat?”

Laurel pauses, her brow furrowing slightly as she carefully considers her response. After a moment of contemplation, she finally opens her mouth to speak. “I think that he was probably a factor,” she begins slowly, her tone measured. “But no, you didn’t cheat. You know Conrad wouldn’t do that.”

Her heart skips a beat at her mother’s response, the confirmation that Conrad may have played a role in the end of her engagement leaves her feeling unsettled. Belly longed for her lost memories, an ache that resonated deep within her soul. With every fibre of her being, she willed herself to remember, grasping desperately at the elusive fragments of her identity like grains of sand slipping through her fingers.

“Conrad mentioned that we hadn’t spoken in five years. That was because of the engagement, wasn’t it?” she questions, her voice trembling slightly as she starts to piece together parts of the lost timeline.

Laurel’s expression softens. “I don’t know for sure,” she admits quietly. “He left early the morning of the wedding, but he didn’t say why. I think him and Jeremiah got into it that morning. He left in a hurry,” she pauses, a solemn air enveloping the conversation. “You should probably talk to him about it, if you have questions.”

It’s all a lot for her to come to terms with. Belly finds herself nodding silently in acknowledgement, her mind still reeling from the weight of the revelations. As if on cue, respite arrives in the form of their waiter, bringing out their dishes. The clinking of plates and the aroma of food fills the air. She allows the comforting ambiance of the restaurant to wash over her, grounding her amidst the storm of emotions swirling within.

Lost in thought, Belly walks down the bustling street, her surroundings a blur as her mind wanders through the labyrinth of her introspection. The rhythm of her footsteps falls into sync with the cadence of her thoughts, each step carrying her deeper into the maze. She barely registers the passing faces and sounds of the city, her focus too consumed by the internal turmoil that weighed heavily on her mind.

Her confusion is palpable as she grapples with the revelation that she was engaged at the tender age of eighteen. Questions flood her mind like a torrential downpour, each one demanding answers that seem to elude her grasp. Why would they have gotten engaged so young? What could possibly have warranted that? And most importantly – had Conrad forgiven her?

The uncertainty gnaws at her, weaving its tendrils through her thoughts like a persistent ache. She knows that confronting him with her questions is inevitable, but the prospect fills her with a sense of unease. With each passing moment, the weight of her own doubt grows heavier, casting a shadow over her resolve.

She struggles to comprehend how, despite the tangled web of their past, he continued to be such an unwavering source of support, offering her a lifeline amidst the tempest that had engulfed her life. His presence was akin to a guiding light in the darkness, leading her through the turbulent currents of recovery with a steady hand and a comforting reassurance that she was not alone. Belly was sure she couldn’t get through this without him.

Hopeful that his presence by her side this past week meant their relationship wasn’t beyond reproach, she clings to the possibility of a future where they can forge a path towards healing and reconciliation.

Belly’s attention is suddenly jolted back to reality as she feels a firm tug on her arm. Startled, she blinks rapidly, finding herself standing at the edge of the sidewalk, dangerously close to the humming traffic. Taking a deep breath, she offers her mother a sheepish smile, thankful for her quick reflexes.

With her senses heightened by the recent close call, she proceeds on her journey home with a newfound vigilance. Each step is deliberate, her eyes scanning the busy streets and the flow of traffic with sharp awareness. The chatter of pedestrians, the honking of horns, and the rhythm of footsteps all serve as a reminder to stay attentive. It’s not until she passes the threshold into her home that she allows herself to relax.

Overwhelmed by the earlier revelations, Belly seeks refuge in the sanctuary of her bedroom. She takes the opportunity to explore her surroundings, looking for clues, eager to familiarise herself with the life she now inhabited. Moving with a cautious curiosity, she traces her fingers along the edges of familiar trinkets and photographs.

In the soft light filtering through the curtains, Belly found herself drawn to the photograph gallery adorning the walls. Memories, like scattered shards of glass, taunt her from the shadows, teasing glimpses of a life she could no longer recall. Each unfamiliar photograph holds the potential to unlock a piece of her past, yet they remain stubbornly silent. With each item she examines, a sense of longing and frustration builds within her.

It all fades away when she spots him, tucked away in a spot underneath her bed. Junior Mint. The sight of her beloved childhood stuffed toy instantly brings a flood of warmth and familiarity, dispelling the sense of disorientation that had gripped her only moments before. With a gentle smile, she reaches out and retrieves Junior Mint from his hiding place, cradling him in her arms like an old friend rediscovered.

With her plushie nestled against her, Belly settles onto her bed. Holding him close, she feels a connection to the girl she once was, finding comfort in knowing that remnants of her past still find a place in her current life.

That’s how Conrad finds her – curled up on the bed, grasping onto Junior Mint. Pausing in the doorway, he clears his throat to alert her to his presence. “Is – is that?” he asks softly, his question trailing off as recognition flashes across his face. “Um, yeah” she replies, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “I found him earlier.” There’s an exposed openness in her expression as she gazes back at him. She shifts slightly on the bed, making room for him to join her.

Conrad’s gaze softens as he steps further into the room, drawn to the tender scene before him. He crosses the room and sits gently on the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke Junior Mint’s fuzzy fur. “I can’t believe you still have him,” he observes, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Belly nods, watching him boop the polar bear’s nose. “I would never get rid of Junior Mint,” she states with conviction. Aware of the hidden meaning behind her words, she shuffles awkwardly in her place, her face reddening faintly with vulnerability. It’s as if her declaration had laid bare a piece of herself that she hadn’t intended to reveal.

Conrad appears oblivious to it, his focus solely on the plush toy in her hands. “Will Junior Mint be joining us for dinner?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes. She chuckles softly at his question, “I think he’ll stay here.” Leaving Junior Mint safely nestled on the bed, Belly makes a move to vacate the room, ready to enjoy their dinner together.

The following morning finds them all gathered around the dining table, sampling the breakfast that Conrad had prepared for everyone. Plates of fluffy pancakes adorned with syrup, bowls of fresh fruit, and steaming cups of coffee were arranged neatly, inviting everyone to dig in. Anika and Conrad were engrossed in conversation, their voices animated as they discussed everything from recent news to their plans for the day.

Meanwhile, Belly sat back in her chair, a contented smile playing on her lips as she savoured each bite of her meal. The flavours danced on her taste buds, a comforting reminder of the simple joys in life.

“Shall we go today?”

Lost in the moment, her trance was interrupted by Conrad’s question, his voice pulling her back to reality. With her mouth still full of pancake, she could only manage a muffled response, her words barely intelligible.

“Mm?” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tried to speak through the mouthful of food.

With a playful grin, Conrad chuckles at her response, waiting patiently for her to finish chewing. “To the park, it’s so nice out. We could maybe have a picnic, too,” he clarifies once she’s swallowed.

Belly’s eyes brightened at the idea, a grin spreading across her face as she nodded in agreement. “I’d love to,” she replied eagerly, her excitement mirroring Conrad’s own. Anika chimed in with suggestions for the menu, and soon they were all swept up in the anticipation of the upcoming picnic. She listened to them with a sense of warmth – watching their animated gestures and shared laughter – content to let them take the reins in organising the days festivities.

Tentatively knocking on the door, she waited for a response, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Despite the warmth in Anika’s smile and the softness in her gaze, Belly couldn’t shake the awkwardness that shrouded their interactions. When her roommate called out for her to come in, Belly pushed the door open slowly, revealing Anika sitting at her dressing table, engrossed in her morning routine.

Belly paused, her expression tinged with hesitation, before entering into the room and perching on the end of the bed. Taking a deep breath, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice betraying the uncertainty that lingered within her. “Hey, Anika,” she began, “can we talk?”

Anika halted her movements and turned towards her – sensing the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. With a gentle smile, she offered Belly an encouraging nod, silently giving her the sign to go on.

“I spoke to my mom yesterday, and she told me that Jere and I were engaged. I’m just really struggling to understand why I would ever think getting married at eighteen was a good idea. It doesn’t seem like me,” she blurted out, the words spilling into the air. “I just figured, since we’re good friends, you would know what happened? I don’t really want to ask Conrad.”

Anika chewed on her lip, contemplating her next words. Belly’s eyes were hopeful as she gazed at her friend. With a reassuring smile, Anika reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering silent support and solidarity. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I need to, yes.”

Anika exhales audibly, before starting. “You found out Jeremiah had slept with someone else, Lacie Barone – do you remember her?” she recounts, her tone dripping with empathy. “Anyway, you holed up in your room crying for days, you were so heartbroken –“

“Wait, Jere cheated on me?” Belly interrupted, her voice tinged with disbelief, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yes, no – it’s complicated. Technically no. You had broken up, I don’t even remember why, it was only for a week. But when you got back together, he didn’t exactly tell you. And you two had never… well you hadn’t had sex. It was a betrayal.”

She processes her friend’s words, her mind struggling to reconcile this version of Jeremiah with the one in her mind. He had been her best friend since she was a child, it was unfathomable to imagine him betraying her trust in such a profound way. It made her chest ache.

“You weren’t sure how you could ever trust him again, and so when you finally agreed to see him, he proposed to you. He said that what happened made him realise he didn’t ever want to be without you,” Anika reveals, the words hitting Belly with the force of a brick wall. “And you said yes.”

Belly is at a loss for words. The weight of Anika’s revelation presses down on her, leaving her breathless. How could she have said yes to Jeremiah’s proposal, knowing the pain he had caused her?

“I said yes?”

Anika moves to sit next to her on the bed, draping her arm around her shoulders and offering comfort within her arms. Leaning into her comforting embraces, Belly allows herself a moment of vulnerability, letting the weight of her emotions wash over her in gentle waves.

“I think you were scared - of losing him, yes – but more so that you’d made a mistake. You wanted to prove that he was your soulmate. If you ended things, then everything the two of you had gone through, and with Conrad, would have been in vain. You wanted something good to come from all that hurt,” she supplies, her words gentle and understanding, echoing the sentiments that Belly had been wrestling with internally. Each syllable carried a profound truth that she couldn’t deny.

Remembering her mother’s words from yesterday, more questions arose within her. “Do you know why Conrad left, before the wedding?”

“Ah. I’m pretty sure him and Jeremiah got into a fight over something he’d said to you.”

Belly remains quiet, her gaze fixed on her friend with a subtle intensity. It’s a deliberate choice, an inaudible invitation for Anika to continue unravelling the layers of her past. As the silence stretched on, her brows furrowed slightly, her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed – it was the kind of look that silently begged for clarification.

“Conrad told you he still loved you. And asked you not to marry his brother, to be with him instead,” she divulges, aware of the gravity of her revelation. “You were pretty torn up about it.”

“That’s why we called it off,” she repeated, the words carrying a weight she couldn’t fully comprehend.

“Pretty much. You always had Conrad between you.”

Anika’s confirmation only added to the confusion swirling in Belly’s mind. Each anecdote felt like a piece of a puzzle, a glimpse into a life that she couldn’t remember. The revelations had left her head spinning. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, in an attempt to steady herself amidst the chaos.

As she opened her eyes, there was only one thing on her mind – that she wanted the arms around her to be Conrad’s.  

They found a secluded spot in the park, a space where they could carve out a small oasis of tranquillity for themselves. Stretching out on their blanket, Belly surrendered to a fleeting sense of peace. The gentle rustle of the leaves overhead, the distant chirping of birds, and the warm embrace of the sun all mingled to weave a tapestry of serenity around them.

Beside her, Anika was engrossed in her phone, mumbling something about sharing their location with Conrad. Belly found herself wondering when they had exchanged numbers, a subtle twinge of jealousy tugging at her emotions. Swiftly, she dismissed the feeling, noting that she had no right to feel possessive over him – he didn’t belong to her, not anymore. He hadn’t for a long time.

Conrad had offered to pick up snacks, leaving the apartment ahead of them so that he could swing by the grocery store on the way. As she lay there, she imagined him navigating the aisles of the store, likely filling up his basket with all of her favourite snacks and treats. There was no doubt in her mind that he was carefully selecting each item with their enjoyment in mind. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness and consideration for others.

While she awaited his return, she leaned back and allowed herself to relax, basking in the warmth of the sun on her skin. The gentle caress of the sunlight was like a soothing embrace, easing away the tension from her muscles.

“Conrad!”

Anika spotted him first, her arm shooting up in a wave of enthusiasm to beckon him over. Following her friend’s gaze, Belly’s eyes lit up with anticipation as she caught sight of Conrad making his way towards them, a grocery bag in each hand. His face was alight with a bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine affection.

“Hey! There you are.”

As he drew nearer, she sat up, shifting over on the blanket to make room for him. With a grateful smile, he settled onto the blanket beside Belly, leaning in to give her a brief hug before unpacking the snacks he had bought.

She tried to ignore the surge of joy that filled her heart at the gesture.

Her hunger not yet satiated, Belly picks up a ripe peach from the pile of snacks Conrad had brought, its sweet aroma wafting up to greet her. With a contented sigh, she sinks her teeth into the juicy fruit, savouring its succulent flesh with each bite.

As she indulges in the tender peach, she feels a trickle of juice dribble down her chin, a subtle reminder of the fruit’s sweetness. Just as she moves to dab at it with the back of her hand, she feels Conrad’s gentle touch, his thumb sweeping across her chin to wipe away the sticky residue.

It takes her breath away.

Belly’s mind is suddenly flooded with a familiar sensation, a déjà vu of sorts. It’s as if she’s been here before, in this moment. A similar memory dances at the edge of her consciousness, teasing her with its elusive details.

“This is a perfect peach, I almost don’t want to have another one, because there’s no way it can be as good.”

“Let’s test it out,” he says, before handing her another peach. He waited until she finished it before questioning her, “Was it as good?”

“Yeah. It was.”

Her fingers instinctively drift to her chin, tracing the same path where Conrad’s touch had been moments before. There’s a furrow in her brow as she grapples with the fragment of the recalled memory, trying to place it. There was something about the action, something comforting and reassuring, that sparked a glimmer of recognition deep within her.

Closing her eyes, Belly focuses on the sensation, willing the memory to come into sharper focus.

Slowly, like a distant echo growing louder, the memory begins to surface. It’s a scene bathed in golden sunlight, illuminating the bustling fruit stand where Belly and Conrad stand side by side. The tension between them is palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. As she recalls the moment, the taste of the peach lingers on her tongue, mingling with the bitterness of unresolved emotions.

It's so… intimate.

With Belly’s focus returning to the present, she realised that she was now the sole occupant of the picnic blanket. Conrad and Anika had vacated their previous spots to engage in a lively game of frisbee. Belly watches them from the sidelines, their laughter echoing through the park as they chase after the flying disc with infectious enthusiasm – her heart torn as she grapples with the recalled memory. Part of her wants to join her friends in their game, to lose herself in the moment and forget about the uncertainties that plagued her mind. But another part of her hesitates, afraid to disrupt the carefree atmosphere with the weight of her own thoughts and feelings.

Wrestling with her conflicting emotions, Belly made a silent promise to herself: she would confront the memories that haunted her, but for now, she would allow herself to embrace the fleeting moment of happiness that surrounded her.

As the day drew to a close, the sun began its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. The golden light bathed everything in a warm glow, casting long shadows on the pavement as they walked. Ahead of her, her friends strolled side by side, their laughter mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, Belly trailed slightly behind, her eyes drinking in the beauty of the sunset.

The sun disappeared from view as they crossed the street, dipping behind the towering silhouette of a New York City skyscraper. The fading light illuminated Conrad before her, casting a warm, golden halo around his figure as they continued their journey home. Belly couldn’t help but observe him. The way his eyes crinkled at the corner when he laughed, the slight tilt of his head as he listened intently, and the genuine warmth in his smile – all these little details that were so incredibly Conrad.

Each glimpse, each gesture, only deepened her admiration for him.

Occasionally, he would steal a glance back at her, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment. Their eyes would meet briefly – in those moments – exchanging unspoken sentiments and silent reassurances. It was as if time slowed down, and in the midst of the bustling city, it was just the two of them and their invisible thread.

While they walked on, the sky continued its transformation, turning from shades of pink and orange to deepening blues and purples. The city lights flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the streets, creating a mesmerising contrast against the twilight hues.

As the evening unfolded, she chose silence, her friends intuitively sensing her need for introspection. Amidst the chatter and laughter of their companionship, she remained a soundless observer, her mind a tempest of emotions. Now, in the quiet sanctuary of her room, the late hour hung heavy in the air – Belly and Conrad both lay awake, lost in their own thoughts.

Restlessly, Belly shifted on her bed, tossing and turning as her mind wrestled with the memory that had resurfaced earlier that day. The distance separating her from Conrad felt insurmountable, a physical manifestation of the barriers that stood between them. Despite the silence that enveloped them, she felt an overwhelming urge to confide in him, to share the burden of her recollection.

Each moment stretched on, the stillness broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Belly wrestled with her inner turmoil. It was as if the night itself held its breath, waiting for her to speak, to bridge the gap between them and lay bare the truth that weighed so heavily on her heart.

Summoning her courage, Belly finally broke the quiet that had settled between them like a heavy blanket. “Conrad,” she whispered, the sound barely audible in the stillness of the room.

He stirred slightly, turning his head to look at her. In the faint glow of the moonlight, she could see the concern etched on his face. “What is it, Belly?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the darkness.

Belly hesitated, grappling with her words as she struggled to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside her. But as she met Conrad’s gaze, she found herself opening up, her voice trembling slightly. “I think I remembered something.” As Belly’s words trailed off, Conrad’s expression softened, an invitation for her to continue. With a deep breath, she delved into the depths of her memory, recounting the details that had resurfaced earlier that day.

When she finally fell silent, spent from the emotional release, Conrad reached out, his hand finding hers in the darkness. Their fingers intertwined, creating a bridge between them that transcended words.

“This is – this is really good Bells. You’ll be back to your old self before you know it.”

She knows there’s a truth to his words – that it was a good thing, a good sign. Yet despite that fact, she still felt a lingering hesitance clawing at the edges of her mind. The memory she had unearthed was only a single piece of a larger puzzle. The vastness of the unknown still loomed before her, casting a shadow over the tentative hope that had begun to take root in her heart.

“Do you remember?” her voice broke the silence, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread. Conrad searched her eyes, a mixture of anxiety and apprehension staring back at him. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of the world in its simplicity.

“Remember what?”

With a heavy sigh, Belly met Conrad’s gaze, her own uncertainty mirroring his. “When it was, I – I can’t place it,” she started, her voiced tinged with doubt. “I’ve lost six years of my life and all I can recall are those few minutes. I feel more lost now than before.”

Understanding briefly illuminated Conrad’s features before giving way to hesitation. His brows furrowed slightly, his lips parted as it to speak – yet no words emerged. Instead, his eyes darted away, avoiding her gaze, a certain flicker of evasion dancing in their depths. As the silence stretched between then, pregnant with unspoken truths, Belly couldn’t help but feel a pang of trepidation, unsure of what lay hidden behind his hesitant façade.

“We were both in Cousin’s that summer, it was after your freshman year. I think we’d just been running errands that day and stopped by the fruit stand on the way home – but I don’t really remember. It was a long time ago.”

She knows him well enough to recognise when he’s not being entirely forthcoming. It was his eyes – eyes that were usually so expressive – that revealed the truth he couldn’t vocalise. By avoiding her gaze, he betrayed his unease. Belly figured he was trying to shield her from the truth of her past, not aware that she knew about the failed engagement. Tentatively, she broached the subject, “This was before the wedding?”

Conrad’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His grip on her hand, once firm and reassuring, began to falter, fingers loosening their hold as if he were grappling with a sudden onslaught of emotions too overwhelming to bear. If it weren’t for the firmness of her own grip, he might have pulled away entirely.

“Did you… remember that?

“No. My mom.”

“Oh,” escapes Conrad’s lips like an audible breath, his shock palpable in the slight tremor of his voice. He untangles their fingers, withdrawing his hand from hers, severing the intimate connection they had shared. The physical distance that now separated them mirrors the emotional chasm that had opened up in their conversation. “How long have you known?”

Belly can feel the weight of her confession in the air between them, a tangible barrier that neither of them knows how to handle.

“Since yesterday.”

Silence stretched between them for what seemed like hours – Belly is almost convinced Conrad has fallen asleep, the irregular rhythm of his breathing the only clue to his awake state. When he finally speaks, his voice carries a heaviness that matches the tension in the air. “Did she tell you – did she say why the wedding was called off?” he murmured, his words laced with a mix of resignation and a flicker of something unidentifiable.

Her heart sinks at his question. Answering honestly would feel like stepping into a labyrinth of emotions she’s not prepared to navigate. Instead, she shifts uneasily, her mind scrambling for an escape route.

“Nope,” she retorts, punctuating the word with a pop of her lips. It was a simple response, a dismissal meant to shut down the conversation before it could delve any deeper. But even as the word left her lips, Belly couldn’t help the gnawing sense of unease that lingered within her. She knew that avoiding the truth wouldn’t make it disappear, yet she couldn’t bring herself to confront it head on. Not yet.

Instead, she grasped for a lifeline, a way to steer the conversation away from their turbulent history. “Conrad,” she calls out, “ I wanted to say thank you, for everything you’ve done this past week. You’ve been a really good friend.” It’s a feeble attempt to skirt around the discomfort, but in the moment, it’s all she can manage.

Conrad’s response is a strained acknowledgement, his discomfort obvious in the way he clears his throat before replying. “Of course, Belly. You know I’m here for you, no matter what,” he starts, the subsequent words uncomfortable on his tongue, “I’ve missed having you in my life, as a friend.”

For a moment, silence enveloped them once again, his words sinking in. As a friend. The phrase echoes in her mind, a stark realisation of the boundaries that now defined their relationship. It was a confirmation that he had moved on, leaving behind any romantic entanglements they once shared.

Belly struggled to find the right response, grappling with the tumult of emotions that churned within her. All she could offer was a tentative smile, a small gesture of solidarity in the face of uncertainty.

She’d let herself get swept up in him, again.

A single glace from him had the power to set her heart aflutter, inevitably stirring emotions within her. But she knew that by agreeing to marry his brother, she had shattered any chance of the two of them ever having a future. Now, all she could hope for was to salvage whatever friendship he was willing to offer – the mere fact that he was extending that much was remarkable in itself.

With a heavy sigh, Belly turned over in bed, facing away from Conrad, hoping to signal the end of their conversation.

“Goodnight, Belly."

“Night.”

Unable to shake off the tornado of emotions triggered by her conversation with Conrad, Belly lay there, tangled in the sheets, her mind refusing to quiet down. Each toss and turn seemed to only stir up more thoughts, leaving her feeling even more unsettled than before.

She found herself – not for the first time – envious of the ease at which Conrad had fallen asleep. His steady and even breathing a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her. As she lay in the dimly lit room, the rhythmic sound of his breathing served as a reminder of her own restlessness.

Resigned to her agitated state, she quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Conrad’s peaceful slumber. Attempting to sleep in that room whilst the weight of their unresolved emotions lingered in the air was futile. Padding down the hallway, each step felt like a release, distancing herself from the turbulence.

When she reached her roommates room, she hesitated for only a moment before sliding under the covers. Nestled in the warmth of the blankets, she finally allowed herself to relax, if only slightly.

Anika doesn’t question Belly’s presence in her bed; instead, she stretches leisurely, her voice laced with morning grogginess. With a casual shrug, she gestures for Belly to join her in heading to the kitchen for breakfast, seemingly unfazed by the unexpected sleeping arrangement.

They’re just about to eat when Conrad emerges from Belly’s room, his expression unreadable. Awkward silence envelops the room like a heavy fog, broken only by the clinking of utensils against plates as they eat their breakfast. Belly casts furtive glances at Conrad, searching for any sign of the emotions that had kept her awake through the night, but his demeanour remains guarded – his thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

She can feel Anika’s questioning gaze like a searing heat against the side of her face, her expression silently probing the tension that hangs between Belly and Conrad. It’s a familiar sensation, she thinks, the silent interrogation of shared glances. With a subtle shake of her head, Belly silently implores her roommate to let the matter rest, not wanting to delve into it over breakfast. Abiding by her friend's unspoken request, Anika redirects her attention back to her own meal, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

As they finish breakfast and begin to clear the table, Belly can’t help but watch Conrad, wondering what thoughts were swirling in his mind.

“Dibs on the first shower,” Anika exclaims, making a beeline for the bathroom. When she reaches the door, she pauses, looking back and casting a meaningful glance from Belly to Conrad – a silent suggestion for them to talk.

Belly falters, her thoughts trailing off as she struggles to find the right approach. Sensing that neither of them is eager to broach the topic on their minds, she opts to focus on more practical matters. “Con,” she begins hesitantly, “Don’t you have to work? I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

“Oh, I um – I had some days I could use. I’ll have to go back to work later this week, but we’re good for now.”

Her heart twists with a mixture of gratitude and guilt at Conrad’s admission. Chewing on her lip, she wants to tell him that he didn’t have to use his vacation days for her sake, but the words stick in her throat. Deep down, she knows she doesn’t really want him to leave her side.

“Anyway,” Conrad begins, his tone hesitant yet hopeful, “I was actually thinking, seeing as I still have a few days – do you want to get out of the city?” It’s an unexpected suggestion, one that catches Belly off guard. “We could drive up to Cousins. Spend some time at the beach.”

His words hang in the air, the idea of a getaway offering a glimmer of escape from the tension that hangs between them.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Outside the car, the world whizzed by in a blur of colours and shapes, a kaleidoscope of fleeting moments. The highway stretched endlessly ahead, disappearing into the horizon like a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the landscape. To the right, fields of golden wheat danced in the breeze, undulating like waves on a vast ocean.

Beside her, Conrad gripped the steering wheel with quiet determination, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The tension between them was profound. They had barely spoken since getting in the car, both lost in their own thoughts, unsure of how to breach the silence that had settled over them. As the miles stretched on, the distance between them seemed to widen.

The weight of it all bore down on her, her head throbbing with the sheer magnitude of the emotions churning within. Every piece of information she’d unearthed over the past few days, every surge of feelings triggered by Conrad’s presence, and the relentless guilt that gripped her heart – it all coalesced into an unyielding onslaught, leaving her reeling in its wake.

Each new detail felt like a jumble of disconnected fragments, swirling around in her mind without forming a coherent narrative. Without the accompanying memories to anchor them, it all seemed disjointed and surreal. The stories, the emotions, the history – none of it seemed to align with the relationship she remembered, with the Jeremiah she held in her heart. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle with mismatched fragments, each piece refusing to fit into the picture she had painted in her mind.

The more she dwelled on it, the more overwhelming it became. Each unanswered question seemed to multiply, creating a tangled web of uncertainty and confusion. She desperately wished for clarity, for the pieces of her past to fall into place and make sense of the present.

If only.

Belly rested her head against the window, seeking solace in the cool glass as she tried to quiet the storm raging within. The rhythmic hum of the engine provided a steady backdrop to her tumultuous thoughts. With each passing mile marker, she felt her worries begin to fade away, until only one remained, stubborn and persistent – the one she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried.

She stole a sideways glance at him, noticing the furrow in his brow, a sign of silent contemplation. It was a familiar sight, one she had grown accustomed to over the years, yet it never failed to stir a sense of curiosity within her. What was he thinking about, she wondered, what thoughts were swirling behind his thoughtful eyes?

The lines etched on his face betrayed the weight of his thoughts, each crease a testament to the burdens he carried. There was a silent vulnerability in his expression that tugged at her heartstrings – but, try as she might, Belly couldn’t discern the origin of his contemplation.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze back to the passing scenery, bracing herself for the journey ahead.

They’d arrived at the beach house mid-afternoon, the sun casting a warm golden glow over the picturesque coastline. The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore welcomed them as they stepped out of the car, filling the air with a soothing rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the ocean itself.

Conrad stretched his arms overhead, his movements fluid and relaxed as he savoured the salty breeze that swept through his hair.

“You should go for a swim.”

He knew how much Belly loved the ocean, how it seemed to rejuvenate her with its endless expanse and boundless energy. “I can unload the car,” he offered, gesturing towards the trunk where their belongings still lay.

Belly grinned at his suggestion, her eyes alight with excitement.  “Are you sure?”

Conrad nodded, his own smile matching hers in its warmth. “Of course,” he replied, reaching for the car keys with a sense of purpose.

Uttering her thanks, she headed towards the house, her steps guiding her along the familiar route from the driveway to her former bedroom. Memories of carefree days spent splashing in the waves flooded her mind, igniting a spark of joy within her heart.

Once inside her room, she swiftly shed her clothes, the fabric pooling at her feet in a haphazard heap. With practiced ease, she reached for the swimsuit hidden within her dresser drawers, the vibrant colour of the fabric catching the sunlight streaming in through the window. As she hurriedly slipped into the garment, each movement was quick and purposeful, driven by the eager desire to immerse herself in the cool waters of the ocean.

With the final adjustment of straps and ties, Belly took a moment to admire her reflection in the mirror, the anticipation evident in the brightness of her eyes and the curve of her smile. She was ready, ready to embrace the freedom and exhilaration that awaited her just beyond the confines of the beach house walls.

After taking a quick scan of her room to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Belly dashed out the door and descended the staircase, her bare feed padding softly against the cool wooden floor.  With each step, a surge of excitement propelled her forward, her heart racing in expectation of the crashing waves that waited for her. Reaching the side door, she flung it open with a flick of the latch, greeted by the warm embrace of the sun and the tantalising scent of the sea. The path to the beach stretched out before her, inviting and familiar, lined with weather-worn shells and budding branches.

As the sand shifted beneath her feet, she quickened her pace, the soft whisper of grains urging her closer to the ocean’s edge. The sound of the waves grew louder with each step until, at last, she emerged onto the sun-drenched shore.

Stepping into the shallows, Belly felt the cool embrace of the ocean wrapping around her, washing away the stresses of everyday life with each gentle wave that lapped against her skin. For a moment, she felt weightless, suspended between the sky above and the sea below, the cares of the world melting away. With each stroke, she propelled herself further into the depths, losing herself in the ebb and flow of the tide.

Lost in the rhythmic sway on the ocean, Belly surrendered herself to the blissful oblivion of the moment. Time seemed to slip away as she floated, buoyed by the gentle currents, her mind adrift in a sea of tranquillity. The sun, now beginning its descent towards the horizon, served as a gentle reminder that daylight was waning – urging her to return to shore before darkness fell. Reluctantly, Belly turned towards the beach, feeling the pull of the fading light tugging at her heartstrings.

As she rinsed the saltwater from her skin under the refreshing spray of the outdoor shower, she couldn’t help but smile at the lingering sensation of freedom that lingered within her. The cares and worries that had weighed heavily upon her shoulders before her swim now seemed distant, washed away with each droplet of water that cascaded down her body.

Upon returning to her room, Belly pushed open the door, anticipating the untidy state that she had left it in. Instead, her bed, neatly made with crisp linens, greeted her – a stark contrast to the bare mattress that had been there before her swim. Her discarded clothes were now folded and placed atop the dresser.

A warm feeling of gratitude washed over her as she realised that Conrad had taken the time to tidy up while she was enjoying her swim.

Shedding her damp swimsuit, she slipped into a fresh set of clothes, relishing the clean, crisp fabric against her skin. As she smoothed down the wrinkles from her shirt and adjusted the fit of her shorts, she couldn’t help but release a contented sigh.

Belly collapsed onto the fresh bed, sinking into the soft linens – feeling them envelop her in a cocoon of comfort. The memorable scent of clean laundry mingled with the salty breeze that wafted in through the open window, creating a tranquil atmosphere that invited her to unwind. Closing her eyes, she let out a satisfied breath, allowing herself a moment of relaxation before heading back outside.

The gentle rhythm of the waves echoed in her mind, their soothing melody lulling her into a state of rest. With each rise and fall, Belly found herself drawn deeper into a peaceful composure. Sleep had nearly enveloped her when the abrupt slam of a car trunk shattered the serene ambiance, snapping her back to the present moment.

Blinking away the remnants of drowsiness, she sat up, her senses suddenly alert. The sound of footsteps approaching the beach house followed, each one drawing closer with a sense of familiarity. She recognised the rhythm, the cadence, as Conrad’s unmistakable gait. Confusion clouded her mind momentarily as she realised – he’d gone out.

His footsteps betrayed his position in the kitchen. Rising from the bed, Belly made her way towards the source of the sound, her curiosity piqued. When she entered the kitchen, she found Conrad unloading bags of groceries onto the countertops.

“You went shopping?”

Conrad turns towards her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “There wasn’t anything in,” he replied casually.

“I mean – I could have gone with you. You already made the beds, you didn’t have to do everything,” she responded, moving closer to help with the task.

Belly busied herself arranging cans and boxes in the cupboards, while Conrad meticulously organised fruit and vegetables in the fridge. Despite her attempt to break the silence, they continued working in a comfortable silence, with Conrad fully engrossed in the task at hand. It’s not until the last bag is emptied that he speaks again, “Are you hungry?”

After a moment’s pause, she nodded, realising her stomach was indeed growling. “Starving,” she admitted with a sheepish grin.

Conrad responded with a subtle nod of his head. “I’ll whip up something quick,” he offered, already moving towards the fridge to gather ingredients. Belly watched him, wondering when he learned to cook. What else didn’t she know about him?

Bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, Belly and Conrad settled at the table, greeted by the aroma on the enticing meal Conrad had prepared. The tomato, basil and avocado salad glistened with freshness, its vibrant colours illuminated by the fading light. Paired alongside the succulent grilled chicken, each bite was a symphony of flavours that danced on their taste buds, eliciting contented sighs of satisfaction.

With each forkful, memories stirred in her mind, fragments of recollection tugging at the edges of her consciousness. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had tasted this dish before, perhaps in a different time or place.

“Where did you get the recipe for this? I could swear I’ve had this exact meal before.”

Conrad almost choked on his mouthful at her question, his eyes widening in surprise. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before responding, “I cooked for you, a few times, when we were both here that summer. Maybe that’s why?”

Belly’s brows furrowed in thought as she tried to recall those moments from that summer. Flashes of memories flickered In her mind, scenes of shared meals, but nothing concrete enough to grasp onto.

Awkwardly clearing her throat, she murmured, “It’s delicious, really. Thank you.” A faint blush tinging her cheeks as she realised that both of the memories she had recalled so far were centred around Conrad.

A quiet settled over the table, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates. Belly’s thoughts swirled with confusion as she replayed those recollected memories in her mind. Why had she found herself drawn to Conrad’s company so often during that summer, especially considering she was on the brink of marrying his brother? Was there something deeper at play, something she had been too afraid to acknowledge at the time?

The questions lingered, casting a shadow over the otherwise tranquil evening.

Belly stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, the bristles gliding against her teeth in rhythmic strokes. Amidst the swishing of toothpaste, she caught the faint buzzing of her phone. Her gaze flickered to the caller ID, her mother’s face flashing across the screen. Despite the foamy mess, she quickly answered the call, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Hey Bean, did you guys arrive ok?” her mother’s voice filled the air, a familiar blend of concern and affection.

Her cheeks bulged slightly as she tried to form words around the toothbrush lodged between her teeth. “Mmhmm,” she managed to mumble, her response more of a garbled noise than coherent words.

Her mother chuckled on the other end of the line. “Sounds like you’re in the middle of something. I’ll let you finish brushing. Just wanted to check in and make sure you made it there safely.”

Belly nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Mom. We’re all good here. Just settling in,” she , pausing briefly to spit out the toothpaste foam in the sink. Once she’d rinsed out her mouth, she continued, “Did you make it back to Philly ok?”

On the other end of the line, she heard her mother’s sigh of relief. “Yeah, I made it back just fine. Traffic was a bit heavy, but nothing too crazy. I’m home now, so you kids just focus on getting settled in and enjoy yourselves. Love you!”

“Love you too, Mom,” Belly replied, ending the call with a sense of reassurance. With her teeth freshly brushed, she rinsed out her toothbrush and placed it back in its holder.  

As she exited the bathroom, she paused at the threshold to her room, her gaze wandering to Conrad’s closed door. The idea of inviting Conrad to sleep in her room, again, crossed her mind. But just as quickly as the thought arose, she dismissed it with a small shake of her head. Tonight, she decided, she would relish the solitude of her own space.

With a soft shrug, she continued into her room.

Settling onto her bed, she glanced around the familiar space, each detail imbued with memories of moments past. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light across the room, creating an inviting atmosphere. Closing her eyes, she let out a satisfied breath – She was home.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting her thoughts.

“Taylor, I need a minute by myself.”

Turning around, expecting to see Taylor, Belly was taken aback to find Conrad standing there instead. His appearance was concerning; he looked visibly worn down, exhausted. His white linen shirt was wrinkled, and upon closer inspection, she noticed the bloodshot eyes and the bruise beginning to form on his cheek.

She immediately ran over to him, “What happened? Did you guys get into a fight?”

He shook his head, but didn’t offer any further information.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, backing away. “Jeremiah will be here, any minute now.”

“I know, I just need to say something to you.”

Belly moved back to the window, turning her back on him. Shutting him down. “You’ve said enough. Just leave.”

The click of the doorknob turning resonated in the air, succeeded by the sharp sound of the door slamming. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Assuming she was once more alone in the room, she was startled when his voice cut through the silence.

“Do you remember how you used to go over to the ring toss and just stare at the polar bears because you wanted one so bad?”

As she turned her gaze back towards him, she was surprised to see him cradling Junior Mint in his hands, his expression inscrutable. Placing the plushie back in its spot on the bed, he spoke again. “I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I asked you if you wanted to go to the boardwalk that day. I was hell bent on winning you that damn teddy. I must have spent thirty or forty dollars on it.”

She was processing his words, his version of events. His version that was drastically different from the version she remembered.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Conrad sighed, “I just wanted you to know, this – us. It wasn’t a phase. It’s infinite for me.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m sorry for screwing everything up. I hurt you again, and for that’s I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to do that anymore. So, I’m not going to stay for the wedding. I’m just going to take off now. I won’t see you again, not for a long time. Probably for the best. Being near you like this, it hurts. And Jere” – Conrad cleared his throat and stepped backward, making space between them – “he’s the one who needs you.”

Belly had to bite her lip to keep from crying.

Hoarsely, he said, “I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it.” Then he said, “I wish you both the best. Take good care of each other.”

It took all of her will power to stop from reaching out, wanting to touch the bruise that was blooming on his left cheekbone. He wouldn’t want her to – she knew him well enough to know that.

Conrad came up and kissed her on the forehead, before stepping away. She closed her eyes, willing herself to memorise that moment. Belly wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then – how his arms looked brown against his white skirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of her.

Then he was gone.

In that moment, the thought that she might never see him again almost crippled her. It felt worse than death. Belly wanted to run after him, to tell him anything – everything. Just don’t go. Please just never go, please always be near me.

Belly awakened to the soft light streaming in, the remnants of her dream lingering in her mind like a hazy fog. It’s imagery playing on a loop behind her eyelids as she blinked away the last traces of sleep.

Her senses slowly tuned into the quiet ambiance of her room – the gentle hum of the air conditioning, the distant chirping of birds outside, the faint scent of lavender from the sachet on her bedside table.

Yet, despite the serene surroundings, an unease settled over her like a heavy blanket.

She couldn’t shake off the dream. It persisted, haunted the edges of the consciousness, refusing to be dismissed as a mere figment of her imagination. It wasn’t merely a fleeting fantasy; it seemed to carry a weight, each detail holding a significance that felt too tangible to be disregarded.

The memory of it played out in her mind like a silent film, its scenes unfolding with a surreal clarity. As though she were experiencing it all over again. She closed her eyes, allowing the memories to flood her senses; the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air, coils of blue and indigo intertwined across his cheekbone, the soft rustle of fabric as he stepped away. And even now, she could distinctly feel the enduring warmth of his lips against her forehead, as if the moment had been frozen in time, etched into her very being.

With a sigh, Belly pushed herself upright, the sheets sliding off her as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The cool wood floor sent a shiver up her spine, grounding her in the present moment. She ran her fingers through her tousled hair, the tendrils catching the faint morning rays filtering through the curtains.

The gentle clink of ceramic against ceramic filled the air as she retrieved a bowl from the cupboard. With practised ease, she poured herself a generous helping of cereal, the colourful flakes cascading into the waiting bowl. The soft, rhythmic sound of milk being poured followed. With her bowl in hand, Belly made her way to the kitchen island, the smooth marble surface inviting her to sit for a while.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Conrad’s arrival until he stepped into the room, his presence disrupting the serene ambiance with a burst of energy. The scent of saltwater clung to his skin, a testament to his early morning surf session. His hair was tousled from the ocean breeze, a carefree grin playing on his lips as he greeted her with a warm smile. With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Conrad made his way to the kitchen island, pouring a bowl of cereal for himself.

“So, how did you sleep?”

Belly’s spoon hovered momentarily over her bowl, her mind racing as she struggled to compose herself. She forced a smile, hoping to mask the unease that churned within her, but the façade felt fragile against the weight of Conrad’s gaze. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the kitchen, before relying with a casual shrug. “Oh, you know, same old. How about you? Early surf session treating you well?”

Conrad’s easy grin faltered slightly at her deflective response, a flicker of concern betraying the playful disguise he wore. But before he could press further, Belly interjected, eager to change the subject and steer the conversation away from the unsettling depths of her subconscious.

“Did you catch any good waves out there?” she asked, her tone laced with forced enthusiasm.

Conrad, ever attuned to Belly’s moods, sensed her discomfort and chose to play along, allowing her to shift the focus of their conversation. With an easy-going chuckle, he launched into a lively recount of his morning surf session, regaling her with tales of crashing waves and daring manoeuvres. As she listened, Belly found herself unable to suppress a giggle, her laughter mingling with his in the air.

But, beneath the surface, a gnawing question lingered: why had she hesitated to share the details of her dream with Conrad? It wasn’t merely fear of his reaction, though that certainly played a part. No, there was something deeper, a nagging sense of foreboding that whispered in the recesses of her mind.

Lost in her thoughts, Belly absently stirred her cereal, the periodic clink of spoon against bowl a comforting distraction. She was sure that the dream held significance. And though she longed for clarity, she couldn’t help but wonder if some truths were meant to remain shrouded in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves.

Later that morning, they strolled languidly along the beach – the tang of salt air mingled with the scent of sunscreen and sand, creating a sensory symphony that enveloped them in the essence of summer. The lull of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation, punctuated by the occasional seagull’s cry.

They walked all the way to the boardwalk, losing themselves in the carefree atmosphere of the seaside. The wooden planks hummed with energy as they navigated through the throngs of people, their laughter blending seamlessly with the cheerful conversations of other beach enthusiasts. Pausing to admire the vibrant storefronts and whimsical carnival games, they were enveloped in a wave of nostalgia, reminiscing about summers gone by as if they were caught in a gentle tide of memories.

With smiles on their faces and a twinkle in their eyes, they continued their leisurely stroll, wandering along the well-trodden path towards the beloved ice cream stand. Where, there, they indulged in scoops of creamy delights. Unbeknownst to Belly, a dollop of ice cream marked the corner of her mouth, a detail that Conrad couldn’t help but notice. He reached out, his touch gentle as he wiped away the stray dessert, his fingers lingering for a moment against her skin.

The mere brush of his fingers against her skin sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins.

Avoiding his eye, Belly’s thoughts raced as she wrestled with the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. The ambiance abruptly turned stifling, suffused with an oppressive weight that seemed to press down on Belly’s chest.

With a heavy heart, she forced a smile, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she struggled to compose herself. The distance between them felt like a chasm, too vast to bridge with mere words or fleeting gestures. And though Conrad’s touch lingered on her skin, a silent reminder of the bond they once shared, she couldn’t help but feel the ache of their shared history pressing in on her from all sides.

Every word spoken, every glance exchanged, carried the weight of past mistakes and unresolved conflicts.

It was an invisible barrier that loomed between them.

Feeling overwhelmed by the weight of emotions haunting her from their stroll along the boardwalk, Belly sought solace in the familiar embrace of water. After they returned to the beach house, she wasted no time in shedding her clothes and slipping into the cool, refreshing waters of the pool.

With each stroke, she felt the tension melting away.

Emerging from the pool, her skin tingling from the refreshing dip, a sudden jolt of pain pierced through her senses. Looking down, she noticed a jagged point of a tile protruding from the pool’s edge, its sharp surface slicing into her skin. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as she gingerly inspected the wound, crimson droplets mingling with the clear pool water.

Determined not to let the injury dampen her spirits, she gritted her teeth and made her way out of the pool, knowing that she would need to tend to the wound before it could ruin the remainder of her day.

When she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, her heart still racing from the unexpected injury, she was met with the sight of Conrad reaching for a snack. His expression quickly turned to one of concern as he caught sight of her injury, his face paling slightly. Without a word, he rushed to her side, gently leading her towards the bathroom before swiftly returning with the first aid kit in hand.

Gentle swabs of antiseptic brushed against her skin as Conrad tenderly cleaned the wound. Being in such close confines, within the intimate space of the bathroom, triggered a whirlwind of scenes to escape from the depths of her mind.

*

Seated side-by-side, Belly perched on the sill, facing him directly.

“Let go,” she demanded, her voice infused with authority.

Still, he hesitated. “I’m fine,” he insisted, “I’ll do it.”

“No, you’re not fine,” she countered firmly. With determination, she replaced his hands with her own, pressing down on the towel where his had been. He winced, pain etched across his features.

*

As Conrad poured hydrogen peroxide on the wound, Belly flinched slightly at the stinging sensation, but she maintained her resolve. She was resolute not to reveal the extent of her pain. “Are you going to bill me for this? Can I at least–” Belly’s words trailed off abruptly as a sharp pang shot through her, causing her to wince and suck in a sharp breath. “Can I at least get a friends and family discount?”

“Consider it a freebie,” he replied, his attention fixed on the wound before him.

*

Conrad let out a yelp as Belly applied hydrogen peroxide to the wound.

“Don’t be such a baby, it’s barely a scratch,” she fibbed, inwardly thinking to herself that he could possibly require stiches.

He leaned in closer, just barely resting his head on her shoulder as she cleaned. His breath brushed against her face, each sharp intake a reminder of his discomfort with every touch she made to his cut.

*

Conrad’s steady hands worked meticulously, cleaning and dressing the injury with practiced precision.

She remained silent, allowing him to work uninterrupted, despite the throbbing ache that pulsed through her. Despite her attempt to hide it, Conrad seemed to sense her discomfort, his movements becoming even more careful and deliberate.

As he finished bandaging her wound, he finally looked up, meeting Belly’s eyes with a reassuring smile. “All done,” he said softly, his gaze lingering for a moment – a moment too long – before awkwardly shifting to the medical supplies.

*

After she finished wrapping his calf in gaze, she patted his knee gently. “See? All better.”

Lifting his head, he offered his thanks.

“Sure.”

In that moment, a palpable tension hung between them as they held each other’s gaze. Belly noted that all she had to do was lean forward – just a little – and they would be kissing. Despite this knowledge, she remained frozen, unable to move away.

*

She was staring at his mouth, now. The lines between the past and the present blurred together, memories flooding her mind like an unstoppable tide. His lips, so close, held the promise of unspoken words and forgotten moments.

Belly swallowed, hard.

Reality crashed down around her, reminding her of the boundaries that still existed between them. With a heavy heart, she tore her gaze away, forcing a small, strained smile. “Thank you, Conrad,” she whispered, the words hanging in the air like a silent plea for understanding.

After that charged moment in the bathroom with Conrad, Belly found herself unable to face him. The intensity of their connection haunted her thoughts like a relentless spectre. Consumed by guilt and confusion, she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, fearing what she might find reflected there.

Instead, she chose the path of self-flagellation, convinced that she deserved the pain that gnawed at her from within.

Once again, she’d been consumed by the overwhelming presence of Conrad, her thoughts drifting effortlessly towards him – just as they had apparently done the summer she was meant to marry Jeremiah. How could she have allowed herself to be so easily swayed by Conrad’s magnetic pull, forgetting the promises she had made to his brother?

As Belly grappled with the tumult of her emotions, she found herself unable to cast blame solely upon her younger self. After all, hadn’t she experienced a similar upheaval of feelings upon waking from her coma? In those initial moments of consciousness, it was Jeremiah’s name that had consumed her thoughts, his absence a palpable ache in her heart. Yet, it had taken only a few days in Conrad’s presence for her dormant feelings to resurface with a force that left her reeling.

The realisation cut deep – she hadn’t devoted nearly as much thought to Jeremiah as she should have. The weight of her perceived transgressions bore down on her, leaving her feeling utterly despicable. How could she have been so callous, so selfish?

In her own eyes, she had become the very embodiment of betrayal.

Seeking solace in the familiar confines of Jeremiah’s room, Belly was drawn to the very place that served as a constant reminder of her wrongdoings. Each item, every memento of their shared past, seemed to echo with the weight of her guilt, intensifying her self-imposed punishment. The sight of his belongings, once comforting, now served only to deepen the chasm of regret that consumed her. She traced her fingers along the edges of his childhood books, lingering over the photographs that adorned the walls – each image a poignant reminder of the life she had once envisioned with him.

With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone, the recognisable weight in her hand offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of her turmoil. Dialling Taylor’s number, she hoped that her friend would be able to offer some distraction from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

As the call connected, Belly couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over her.

“Cinderbelly! How are you – did you get my flowers?” Taylor’s words spilled out in a rush. “I know it was a bitoverboard but I felt so bad about not being able to get away from work. I’m so sorry–“

“Taylor, hi,” Belly interrupted gently, her voice wavering with emotion. “I got the flowers, Tay. They were beautiful, thank you.” She paused, taking a moment to steady herself before continuing. “But, listen, something happened.”

Her friend’s silence on the other end of the phone was unmistakeable, a tacit encouragement for Belly to divulge her troubles. Sensing the weight of Taylor’s expectant pause, she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before plunging forward.

“I almost kissed Conrad.”

If she strained her ears, she could almost detect the sharp intake of breath from her friend, as if the news had momentarily winded her.

“Woah, hold up. Conrad? What on earth are you doing with Conrad? I thought you hadn’t spoken to him since the wedding?” Taylor questioned, her tone sharp and direct, either unaware of Belly’s amnesia or simply unbothered about handling the situation gently. There was no sugar-coating with Taylor – her blunt honesty was both a blessing and a curse, forcing Belly to confront the harsh realities of her own actions.

Belly leaned heavily against the wall, its solid presence offering a reassuring anchor as she braced herself. “Steven didn’t tell you?” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “He was at the hospital when I was brought in.” The memory of the hospital room flashed vividly in her mind – the sterile scent, the beeping monitors, and Conrad’s concerned expression as he hovered by her bedside.

“Okay, but you’re not in the hospital anymore, Bells. Why is he still hanging around you like some sort of… I don’t know, parasite?”

Belly sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of her own confusion and conflicting emotions. “He’s actually been really great, you know,” she confided. “He made me feel like I wasn’t alone in–“ gesturing vaguely, she waved her hands in the air, a futile attempt to convey her feelings despite the knowledge that Taylor couldn’t see her, “–all this.”

Taylor’s voice softened slightly, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. “But that doesn’t mean you should be getting involved with him, again.”

“I know, I know,” Belly whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I’m not. We’re just friends. I promise.” She hoped desperately that her tone sounded more believable to her friend’s ears than it did to her own, praying that she could convince both Taylor and herself of the truth in her words. Belly’s back slid down the wall, her body sinking to the floor in a defeated slump.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, as if Taylor was carefully considering her next words. “Good,” she replied firmly. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

Belly couldn’t help but smile, despite the weight of her troubles. “Thank you, Tay.”

With that, they said their goodbyes, the weight of the conversation still prevalent on Belly’s mind. Despite her reassurances, Belly knew that navigating her complicated relationship with Conrad would be a delicate balancing act, one that could easily tip into dangerous territory if she wasn’t careful. 

She knew she wasn’t ready to face him yet, not when her emotions were still in such disarray. With a heavy heart, she resigned herself to remain in her bubble for a little while longer, seeking refuge against the cool surface of the wall. Here, she could shield herself from the outside world, if only for a fleeting moment.

With a hushed step, Belly tiptoed down the hallway, her heart pounding in rhythm with each quiet footfall. The house seemed to hold its breath, enveloped in a blanket of silence as she made her way towards the kitchen. Moonlight spilled through the windows, casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Belly hesitated in the archway, her silhouette framed by the soft glow emanating from within. The faint scent of leftover dinner lingered in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of old wooden cabinets. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold and approached the fridge, her stomach growling in anticipation. She’s rummaging through the shelves, searching for a late-night snack to satisfy her hunger pangs – when she sees it. A post-it with her name scrawled across it.

He’d made her dinner, again.

She gingerly picked up the plate, studying the familiar handwriting, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at the simple gesture of kindness. Despite the questions and uncertainties swirling in her mind, Conrad’s thoughtfulness was a reassuring constant. She traced the lines and curves of each letter with her finger, committing them to memory.

Whilst she waited for the microwave to hum its final tune, signalling that her dinner was ready, Belly clutched the note tightly in her hand. She read it over once more. The simple message held layers of meaning – it wasn’t just about the food on the plate, but the love and care that went into preparing it.

As the microwave chimed its completion, she carefully folded the post-it note and tucked it into her pocket, relishing the warmth it kindled within her.

Belly lay awake in her bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above, the passage of time marked only by the soft ticking of the clock on her bedside table. She resisted the urge to glance at its face, not wanting to confront the reality of how many hours had slipped away in the grip of sleeplessness. Each minute felt like an eternity, stretching out endlessly before her, devoid of the solace she so desperately sought. Knowing that a night swim was her only respite from the relentless whirlwind of thoughts, she slipped out of bed with a quiet determination.

Outside, the cool night air brushed against her skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling confines of her room.

As she reached the water’s edge, the rippling surface glimmered under the moonlight, beckoning her with its tranquil allure. With a deep breath, Belly plunged into the embracing darkness, submerging her body beneath the surface until her lungs gave out. Drifting weightlessly on her back, Belly gazed upward, her eyes tracing the constellations scattered across the velvet canvas of the night sky. Venus was shining brightly as an evening star, once again.

*

“Last night Conrad told me he still has feelings for me.”

She could feel Jeremiah go rigid beside her. When he didn’t speak, she continued, “Of course I told him I didn’t feel the same way. I wanted to tell you sooner, but then I thought it would be a mistake, that I should keep it to myself–“

“I’m going to kill him,” he declared, his voice tinged with barely contained fury as he stood up abruptly.

Belly reached out, her hand trembling as she attempted to restrain him, her eyes pleading with him to listen.

“Are you marrying me to erase him?”

*

In her mind’s eye, she could vividly see the memory playing out before her, as clear as if it were happening in real-time. The younger versions of herself and Jeremiah stood by the pool – the weight of Conrad’s confession hung heavy between them. Belly could almost feel the sting of betrayal and the ache of shattered trust radiating from Jeremiah, his wounded gaze piercing through the depths of her soul.

*

“No,” she gasped, the word escaping her lips in a desperate plea. “No.”

Jeremiah’s voice cut through the tension, his voice devoid of emotion. “The thing is, Bells, I don’t believe you. I see the way you look at him. I don’t think you’ve ever looked at me like that. Not even once.”

Belly’s fingers clutched at his hands, as if afraid he might slip away if she didn’t hold on tight enough. “That’s not true, Jere. It’s not true at all. What I feel for him is all memories. That’s it! It has nothing to do with us. All that’s in the past. Can’t we just forget the past and make our own future? Just the two of us?”

Levelly, he said, “Is it the past? I know you saw him over Christmas. I know you guys were together, here.”

Belly opened her mouth, but no words came out.

*

She closed her eyes tightly, her lashes forming a barrier against the outside world, as if by sheer force of will, she could shield herself from the onslaught of painful memories. Within the darkness behind her closed eyelids, she sought refuge, a sanctuary from the turmoil raging within her heart.

Silently, she pleaded for the memory to fade away, to spare her the anguish of witnessing the unravelling of their relationship.

*

“Say something. Go ahead, try to deny it.”

“Nothing happened between us, Jere. I promise you. I didn’t even know he was going to be here. The only reason I didn’t tell you was–“ Belly’s mind raced, struggling to find an explanation. Why hadn’t she told him? Why couldn’t she think of a reason? “I didn’t want you to be upset over nothing."

“If it was nothing you would have told me about it. Instead, you kept it a secret. After all that stuff you said to be about trust, you kept that to yourself. I felt like shit for what I did with Lacie, and you and I weren’t even together when it happened.”

Belly swallowed hard, “How long have you know?”

“Since it happened. Conrad mentioned he saw you, he thought I already knew. So, of course I  had to play it off like I did. Do you know how stupid I felt?”

 “Why didn’t you say anything – before?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me. And you never did.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I was wrong.” Belly’s heart raced as she spoke.. “I love you. We’re getting married tomorrow. Me and you, right?”

When he didn’t answer, she repeated. “Aren’t we?

“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said at last.

*

Waves of sorrow and regret washed over her, engulfing her in a sea of turbulent emotions. The weight of her heartache felt almost physical as she struggled to stay afloat amidst the emotional turmoil.

Desperate for stability, Belly propelled herself through the water, striving toward the safety of the pool’s edge. With each kick and glide, she found solace in its familiar embrace – the  waters brisk touch a balm to her troubled soul. As her fingers finally made contact with the solid edge, Belly clung to it with a fierce determination, as if by holding on tight enough, she could anchor herself against the storm raging within.

Resting her head on her hands, she felt completely beaten down by the new memory. Tears welled in her eyes as she grappled with the realisation that she bore the responsibility for the demise of their relationship.

Jeremiah didn’t deserve the pain she had inflicted upon him. He didn’t deserve a girlfriend who would always harbour a love for his brother, a love that seemed to overshadow everything else. Belly had betrayed him in the cruellest of ways. The guilt weighed heavily on her heart as she replayed the hurt in his eyes, the pain she had caused him etched into her mind like a scar.

Moments turned into minutes, her mind churning with questions, chief among them; what could Conrad have possibly said to her that night to push her to endanger everything she had with Jeremiah?

As she clung to the edge of the pool, her fingertips digging into the cool tiles, doubts crept into her mind like shadows in the night. With each passing moment, she questioned whether uncovering the truth would only serve to deepen her wounds, whether honesty would only further tear at the fragile bonds that remained. Yet, despite the gnawing uncertainty, a flicker of determination ignited within her.

Breathing deeply, Belly pushed herself away from the pool’s edge, a newfound resolve firming her stance.

Belly couldn’t rationalise it – the inexplicable pull she felt.

Anticipation coursed through her veins, her heart quickening with every step she took towards the lifeguard tower.

As she approached it, her gaze lifted upwards, the towering structure seemingly reaching for the heavens. It’s silhouette stark against the backdrop of the night sky. In that moment, the tower appeared larger than life, as if all the secrets it held had caused it to swell and grow in stature.

With a firm nod, she gripped the ladder’s rungs tightly, her muscles tensing with resolve as she prepared to climb. Whatever secrets awaited her at the top, she was ready to face them head-on. Each step upwards brought her closer to the unknown, propelling her closer to the truth she longer to uncover.

Clambering onto the platform at the top of the tower, she paused to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling with exertion. The sound of the pulsing waves crashing against the shore below provided a soothing backdrop to her laboured breathing. From this vantage point, she could see the vast expanse of the beach stretching out before her, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. It lay still and silent, its sands bearing witness to countless stories untold.

The biting chill of the night air nipped at her skin, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

Drawing her knees upward and tucking them close to her chest, she enveloped herself in a cocoon of warmth, while her arms instinctively wrapped around her body in a protective embrace. Belly inwardly cursed herself for not grabbing her towel. Yet, despite the cold that was seeping into her bones, she made no move to leave the tower – her determination outweighing any discomfort she felt.

The gentle rustle of the wind whispered secrets that seemed to dance around her, teasing her with their elusive truths.

*

“Come down,” she called up, her voice carrying through the still night air. “Don’t fall asleep up there."

“Come up,” he responded. “Just for a minute.”

Belly hesitated, contemplating his offer before deciding to climb up the tower and settle next to him. “Did you guys have fun?” she inquired, attempting to break the silence that enveloped them.

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

As they sat together, Belly watched the gentle ebb and flow of the water against the shore, her eyes tracing the path of the crescent moon in the night sky. “I love it here at night,” she murmured softly.

Suddenly, he spoke, his voice breaking the stillness. “I have to tell you something.”

There was an edge in his voice that sent a chill down Belly’s spine. “What?”

“Jere cheated on you when he was in Cabo.”

That wasn’t what she expected him to say. It was maybe the last thing she expected him to say. His jaw was clenched, his demeanour rigid with frustration. “Tonight, at the club, one of his dumbass friends said something,” he continued, his gaze finally meeting hers. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from me. I thought you had a right to know.

Stunned, Belly found herself at a loss for words. She struggled to process the revelation coming from his lips. Finally, she managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “I already knew about it.”

His head jerked back in surprise. “You knew?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re still marrying him?” he questions, his disbelief evident in his tone.

Her cheeks flushed crimson, the heat spreading across her face like wildfire. “He made a mistake,” she said, softly. “He hates himself for what he did. I forgave him. Everything’s fine now – in fact, everything’s really great.”

Conrad’s lip curled in disgust. “Are you kidding me?” he spat. “He spent the night in a hotel room with some girl and you’re defending him?”

“It’s none of your business,” Belly shot back, her tone defensive.

“None of my business?” Conrad’s voice rose with indignation. “That shithead is my brother, and you’re…” he trailed off, his words choked with anger. He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he said, “I never thought you’d be the kind of girl who would put up with that from a guy.”

“I put up with a lot worse from you,” she retorted without hesitation, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

His eyes flashed with fury, his expression hardening. “I never once cheated on you. I never even looked at another girl when we were together,” he snapped, accusation rife within his tone.

Belly instinctively moved away from him, craving distance from the confrontation. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she declared. She couldn’t comprehend why he was dredging up all these painful memories now. All she wanted was for it all to disappear.

“I thought I knew you,” he said.

“I guess you thought wrong,” she responded, her words sharp with defensiveness, before swiftly jumping down from the tower.

She heard the sound of his landing behind her, but she didn’t look back, determined to put as much physical space between them as possible. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and she refused to let him witness her vulnerability.

Conrad caught up to her, reaching out to grab her arm. Belly tried to turn away, but she wasn’t fast enough – he caught sight of her tears, his expression softening with remorse. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, “ I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right. It’s not my business.”

She started walking in the opposite direction of the house, her steps driven by a desperate need to escape from him. His words lingered in the air, a heavy burden she couldn’t shake off.

Then, his voice cut through the silence, echoing her name. “I still love you.”

Belly froze, her heart lurching in her chest. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and apprehension. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a hesitant step closer, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my system, not completely,” he confessed, his words heavy with emotion. “I have this… feeling. That’s you’ll always be there. Here.” Conrad clawed at his heart before letting his hand fall to his side.

“It’s only because I’m marrying Jeremiah,” she protested. She hated the way her voice sounded – shaky and small. Weak. “That’s why you’re saying this all of a sudden.”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he countered, his eyes locked on hers with intensity. “It’s always.”

She couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact any longer. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”

Belly began to walk away, but he pursued her – wrapping his arms around her, over her shoulders. “Let go,” she pleaded, attempting to break free from his grasp, but he held on tightly, refusing to release her.

“Wait. Wait,” he urged, his voice strained and desperate.

Her heart was racing – what if someone saw them? What if someone overheard?

“Hear me out, just for a minute. Please. I’m begging you.”

Belly let out a slow breath, deciding she would count back from sixty. Sixty seconds was all that he would get from her. After those sixty seconds were over, she would leave and she would not look back.

In a hushed tone, he began to speak. “Two years ago, I fucked up. But not in the way you think. That night – do you remember that night? The night we said goodbye to the house. We were out here, on this beach. Do you remember?”

She remembered that night, of course she did.

“That night, I lied to you,” he confessed. “I let you believe that I didn’t love you anymore. After my mom died, I was so consumed by anger, by grief – I felt like I was going to erupt any minute. I didn’t have the right to love anybody them. I loved you, but I knew I shouldn’t.”

He paused, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing. “I didn’t have it in me to love you the way you deserved. If I kept you with me, I was going to hurt you somehow. I knew it. So, I lied. I let you believe I didn’t love you anymore.”

Belly had stopped counting by then, her focus solely on her breathing. In and out. In and out.

“But this summer… God this summer. Being near you again,” his voice trembled with emotion. “I see you again, and everything I planned goes to shit. It’s impossible. I love Jere more than anybody – he’s my brother, my family. I hate myself for doing this.” His voice broke then. “Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be with me.”

His shoulders trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks. Witnessing him in such a vulnerable state felt like a dagger to her heart. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t go there. With Conrad, once she started, she couldn’t stop.

Breaking away from him abruptly, she uttered his name, “Conrad–“

He reached out for her, desperation evident in his grasp. “Just tell me. Do you still feel anything for me?”

Belly recoiled, forcefully pushing him away. “No! Don’t you get it? You will never be what Jere is to me. He’s my best friend. He loves me no matter what. He doesn’t take it away whenever he feels like it.”

“You and I,” she began, her voice faltering as she struggled to articulate it. She had to get this right. She had to make it so that he let her go forever. “You and I were never anything.”

She watched as the light in his eyes faded away, leaving behind an emptiness that mirrored her own.

*

At first, it came to her in a fragmented whisper, elusive and fleeting, much like the ebb and flow of the ocean’s tide. But, as she allowed herself to surrender to the rhythm of her thoughts, the memory surged forth with increasing clarity. It wound around her like a relentless tempest, swirling through the corridors of her mind with such force that it knocked the breath out of her.

Belly’s cries echoed through the stillness of the night.

Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her emotions, each sob wracking her body with a palpable force. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake – the salty moisture leaving behind an aftermath of warmth against her chilled face.

As the weight of her emotions bore down upon her, Belly found herself gasping for air, her lungs struggling to keep pace with the torrent of emotion threatening to engulf her. Each inhalation felt like a struggle – as though her lungs were being squeezed by invisible hands, desperate for oxygen that seems to elude her grasp. With each ragged breath, she felt a tightness creeping over her chest. A sensation of suffocation that left her feeling lightheaded and disorientated.

Desperately, she clung to the railing of the lifeguard tower, her knuckles white with the sheer force of her grip. The world around her blurring into a chaotic whirlwind, the sound of the gushing wind and her own uneven breathing reverberating in her ears. Her grip tightened further.

The darkness of the night seemed to amplify her anguish, settling around her like a smothering cloak.

Drawing upon the fragments of strength that remained, she inhaled steadily, feeling the cool chilly evening breeze fill her lungs. The cool night air offering a brief respite from the choking grip of her emotions. She closed her eyes, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore to ground her, to remind her of the vast expanse of the world beyond her current turmoil.

Slowly, the storm within her began to subside, like a tide receding from the shore. The weight on her chest lightened, though the echoes of her sobs still lingered in the air around her.

*

“I still love you.”

Belly froze, her heart lurching in her chest. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and apprehension. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a hesitant step closer, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get you out of my system, not completely,” he confessed, his words heavy with emotion. “I have this… feeling. That’s you’ll always be there. Here.” Conrad clawed at his heart before letting his hand fall to his side.

“It’s only because I’m marrying Jeremiah,” she protested. She hated the way her voice sounded – shaky and small. Weak. “That’s why you’re saying this all of a sudden.”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” he countered, his eyes locked on hers with intensity. “It’s always.”

*

Those four words haunted her like a relentless melody she couldn’t shake. I still love you.

There was a point in time where all she wanted – all she needed – was to hear those words from him. For him to confirm that she wasn’t alone in the depth of her feelings. She’d craved that validation, yearned for the reassurance that their connection was real.

But now, as she sat with the weight of the memory, it felt like a burden too heavy to bear.

Belly closed her eyes, trying to shut it out, but it persisted, replaying in her mind with relentless precision. Each repetition felt like a dagger to her heart, reopening wounds she didn’t even know existed until now. In the darkness, Belly could still see his face, hear the echo of his voice uttering those words that had once held so much meaning. But now, they were like shards of glass, cutting into the fragile fabric of her newfound reality.

She traced the contours of her emotions, feeling the ache of longing mingled with the bitterness of regret. How she wished she could forget those words, to erase them from her mind as easily as one wipes away smudges on a mirror.

Tears welled up behind her closed eyelids, again, threatening to spill over and betray the façade of composure she had so carefully constructed. She wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but the words caught in her throat.

It’s always.

He had moved on, or so she believed. His gestures of kindness and affection – signs she once would have interpreted as an indication of something more – seemed to be nothing more than the actions of a caring friend. That was all. Whatever had happened on that beach five years ago, was firmly in the past.

She had watched the hope flicker and fade in his eyes, extinguished by her own admission.

It had been a deception, a betrayal of the truth she had desperately tried to deny. Him and her, they had been everything. Their love had been real, a blazing inferno that had consumed them both in its fiery embrace. He’d made her feel electric. But, no matter how badly she had wanted to tell him that – to scream out the truth – she knew she’d done the right thing.

Hours passed in silence, the night stretching out before her like an eternity. Yet, Belly remained unmoving. She stayed rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse of the ocean before her.

Her memories keeping her company like unwanted guests.

As the first tendrils of dawn began to weave their way across the horizon, the sky transformed from a blanket of indigo to a canvas painted with streaks of pink and gold, the colours reflecting off the gently rolling waves that kissed the shore. It was a sight of unparalleled beauty, a reminder of the endless cycle of life and renewal.

“Belly?” Conrad called out, his voice carrying on the morning breeze. “Is everything okay?”

Belly spun at the sound of his voice, a shadow passing over her features. “Conrad,” she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

When Conrad reached her side, he set his surfboard down gently in the sand and paused, studying her carefully in the soft light of dawn. Her face was illuminated by the gentle glow, but it revealed more than just the beauty of the morning; it showed the traces of a restless night, the evidence of tears shed in solitude. He noted the slight puffiness around her eyes, the tell-tale sign of sleepless hours spent lost in her own thoughts. He’d just opened his mouth – seemingly to question her on it – when a shiver ran through her body, interrupting the moment.

It was only then that Conrad’s gaze shifted from Belly’s tear-stained face to the rest of her form. Goosebumps were dotted across every inch of her exposed skin. She watched as realisation painted his features – her tears weren’t the only thing she had been battling against during the long night.

Without hesitation, he removed his towel, a protective shield against the cool breeze, and draped it around Belly’s shoulders. “Here,” he said softly, his voice a soothing whisper. “You must be cold.”

Belly blinked in surprise, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions flood her senses. She wanted to thank him, to express her gratitude for his kindness, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of her own guilt.

She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear the thought of him being kind to her after all the hurt she had caused him.

“Bells,” he began, his voice gentle yet firm. “You should go up to the house and get some sleep.”

Her gaze flickered up to meet his, a hint of reluctance shining in her eyes. Belly wanted to protest, to insist that she was fine, but even she knew that she couldn’t keep up the façade any longer.

Conrad stepped closer, his touch feather light as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead of withdrawing his hand, he let it linger, gently cupping her cheek. Using his thumb to wipe away the traces of tears that had stained her skin. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a warmth that spread through her entire being – like sunshine after a storm.

With a nod, she relented, her resolve crumbling in the face of his unwavering kindness.

“Okay.”

Conrad offered her a small, reassuring smile, before releasing her cheek and descending the ladder. “I’ll see you up there,” he called over his shoulder, his words carrying through the air as he headed down the beach.

Belly lingered for a moment, her gaze following his silhouette until he reached the water’s edge, disappearing into the waves with effortless grace. Exhaling slowly, she turned away from the shoreline and began the descent from the lifeguard stand, her footsteps slow and measured.

The morning sun had already begun its journey across the sky when she closed her heavy eyelids.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as she slept, her body cradled in the comfort of her bed like a ship anchored in a safe harbour. The world outside continued to turn, the sun tracing its arc across the heavens, casting shifting patterns of light and shadows through the windows of her room.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that she finally stirred, the soft caress of sunlight filtering through her window coaxing her back to wakefulness. With a languid stretch, she blinked away the remnants of sleep, the events of the previous night still lingering at the edges of her consciousness like a half-remembered dream.

As she descended the staircase, the subtle creak of each step beneath her weight reverberated in the quiet of the house. With every footfall, the lingering fog of sleep gradually dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of alertness. By the time Belly reached the bottom, her senses were fully awake, attuned to the world around.

The faint murmur of voices reached her ears, drawing her towards the living room. The blinds were closed, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the space as she entered – the soft glow of the television catching her attention first. It flickered with the remnants of a show left on standby.

My Life with the Walter Boys?

Belly made a mental note to tease him about it later.

Moving further into the room, her gaze shifted – there, sprawled out on the sofa, lay Conrad, his laptop balanced precariously on his lap as he slept soundly. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his features, accentuating the curve of his jawline and the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

“Oh,” she breathed in, the sound of her inhalation reverberating throughout the room.

Taking care not to wake him, Belly leaned in, her movements cautious and deliberate as she lifted the computer off his lap. As she adjusted the device, her eyes naturally gravitated toward the screen, intrigued by the assortment of open tabs. Her pulse quickened as she noted the nature of Conrad’s midday browsing – the tabs were brimming with resources on how to support someone with amnesia, each article a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty that had enveloped her life since the accident.

With trembling fingers, she set the laptop aside, her gaze fixed on Conrad’s sleeping form. He looked so peaceful, so serene in his slumber, and yet the turmoil raging within Belly threatened to engulf her.

She didn’t deserve him. His kindness, his friendship.

The words echoed in Belly’s mind like a relentless mantra, each repetition driving home the depth of her unworthiness. She couldn’t shake the memories of the pain she had caused him, the shattered pieces of his heart that she had left in her wake.

How could someone like him, with all his patience and understanding, continue to stand by her despite her past mistakes and shortcomings? If the roles were reversed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to support Conrad in the same selfless manner he had shown to her.

The weight of her guilt bore down on her, threatening to suffocate her with its unyielding intensity. It was a constant companion, a shadow that followed her wherever she went, a reminder of the pain she had caused, the hurt she had inflicted.

How could she ever make amends for it all?

The question hung in the air, unanswered and unanswerable.

“Are you hiding from me?” Conrad’s voice broke through the quiet, breaking the serene stillness of the moment and pulling Belly from her reverie. She turned to face him, the warmth of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine.

His attempt to lighten the mood brought a faint smile to her lips, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. Despite the weight of her worries, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Conrad’s infectious energy.

“I’m not hiding,” Belly finally replied, her voice soft and tinged with warmth. “Just… lost in thought, I suppose.”

Conrad nodded understandingly, his playful grin melting away the remnants of her worries. “Lost in thought, huh?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I hope you left a trail of breadcrumbs so you can find your way back.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his light-hearted remark, the sound echoing like music in the quiet evening air. “That was… bad,” she quipped, shaking her head in amusement.

Their laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves, the tension that had been hanging between them dissipating into the evening air. Conrad’s steps were deliberate as he approached, his expression softening as he settled into the wicker chair next to her.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the setting sun casting a warm glow over their surroundings. The gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden.

In the fading light, Conrad reached out, his hand ruffling Belly’s hair affectionately. She tilted her head slightly, allowing the gentle gesture to wash over her like a soothing wave. Their eyes met, sharing a silent exchange that spoke volumes without the need for words.

“Belly,” he started –

*

“Don’t say my name.” Belly backed away from him, her voice strained with emotion. “Don’t even think it. In fact, don’t ever speak to me again.”

He regarded her with a wry half-smile, his eyes holding a mixture of resignation and defiance. “Well, that would be kind of hard, considering the fact that you’re marrying my brother. Come on, Belly.”

The irony in his tone only fuelled her anger, stoking the flames of resentment that simmered beneath the surface. She felt her fists clench at her sides, her jaw tightening with the effort to contain her fury.

“I want you to leave,” she practically spat the words, her voice laced with venom. “Make up one of your bullshit excuses and just leave. Go back to Boston or California. I don’t care where. I just want you gone.”

His eye twitched, a flicker of vulnerability betraying the façade of indifference he wore so effortlessly. “I’m not leaving.”

“Go,” she insisted, shoving him, hard. “Just go.”

That’s when she saw it – the first cracks in his armour.

*

– “What do you think?”

Belly blinked, her focus slowly returning as she realised Conrad had been speaking. She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the fog that clouded her thoughts. “Sorry, what was that?”

Conrad raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I was asking what you wanted to do tomorrow. If you wanted to leave early or stay here, have one last swim – maybe grab lunch before we head back?”

A flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks. “Oh, um… sure, lunch sounds great,” she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

*

“What do you expect me to say to you, Belly?”

“Stop saying my name!” she screamed, her hands trembling with anger.

“What do you want from me?” he yelled back. “I laid myself fucking bare last night! I put it all out there, and you shut me down. Rightfully so. I get that I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff to you. But now here I am, trying to find a way to come out of this with just a little fragment of pride – so that I can look you in the eye when all of this is over – and you won’t even let me have that. You broke my heart last night, all right? Is that what you want to hear?”

*

Belly sat there, her heart pounding in her chest, as she tried to make sense of the two versions of Conrad before her.

*

“You really are heartless.”

“No, I think you might actually be the heartless one,” he retorted, his tone edged with bitterness.

He began to walk away. “What is that supposed to mean?” she called out, quickening her pace to catch up with him. She reached out and twisted his arm, forcing him to face her. “Tell me what you mean by that.”

Conrad sighed, his gaze searching hers for a moment before he spoke. “You know what it means,” he said, jerking away from her. “I still love you. I never stopped. I think you know it. I think you’ve known it all along.”

*

“Don’t lie.”

Conrad’s brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to her, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “What was that?”

Realising her mistake, her eyes bulged in sheer panic. “Oh, nothing,” she stuttered, hoping to brush off the slip of the tongue. In that split second, time seemed to slow to a crawl, every heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears.

But Conrad wasn’t so easily deterred. “It didn’t sound like nothing,” he insisted, his gaze searching hers for answers.

Belly hesitated, unsure of how to explain. The memory she had recalled was a painful one, a reminder of a time when trust had been shattered and wounds had been inflicted. She had never intended to vocalise her thoughts, but the words had slipped out, betraying the turmoil within her.

“It was just… a memory,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Conrad watched Belly closely, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity. There was something different about her lately, something that he couldn’t quiet put his finger on. It was as if she was drifting away, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

“Hey, Belly,” he began tentatively, his voice soft with concern. “Are you… remembering more?”

Belly hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his for answers. And then, with a sigh, she nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the truth that lay between them.

“I think so,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been… remembering bits and pieces.”

As Conrad’s concerned gaze lingered on her, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach. How could she explain the whirlwind of emotions that had been consuming her? How could she convey the turmoil of the memories that threatened to engulf her at every turn?

Belly wanted to reach out to him, to confide in him about the fragments of their past that haunted her. But, the fear of opening old wounds held her back, trapping her in a cycle of silence and uncertainty.

His gentle voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his words a lifeline in the midst of her turmoil. “Together.”

Chapter Text

If Conrad chewed on his lower lip any longer, there would be nothing left. Instead, he absentmindedly reached for the first thing he could – the remote. That would do. Gnawing on the remote, like an animal, he contemplated the paths before him.

The taste of plastic and rubber filled his mouth, a poor distraction from the churning anxiety in his stomach.

Something was wrong with Belly; even an idiot could see that. She had barely spoken to him the past few days, and he was almost certain she was actively avoiding him.

He replayed their recent interactions in his mind, searching for clues. He had tried to engage her multiple times over the past few days, cracking jokes and reminiscing about their childhood summers, but her responses were monosyllabic, her mind clearly elsewhere. The way she used to look at him, with eyes full of warmth and mischief, had been replaced by quick glances and forced smiles.

As he gnawed on the remote, he considered talking to her directly. Maybe she was waiting for him to make the first move, to show that he cared enough to break through her silence. But what if it was something more? What if he was the reason she was so withdrawn? The thought chewed at him more than the remote ever could.

He’d assumed that was the case, at first. When he woke in the middle of the night and saw she wasn’t sleeping in her own bed, a pang of guilt and anxiety twisted in his gut. The darkness of the room felt oppressive as he stared at the empty mattress, his mind racing with the fear that he had somehow driven her away.

Unable to sleep, he lay awake on the floor, the cold seeping into his bones as his thoughts cycled through every mistake he had ever made with Belly. Chief amongst them – breaking her heart, time and again.

He couldn’t help but fear he was making another mistake, here and now.

Anyone else would just assume Belly was struggling with the effects of her amnesia. Her distant gaze, the way she sometimes faltered when trying to recall simple details, and her occasional moments of confusion could all be easily attributed to the aftermath of the accident. People would offer her sympathetic smiles, understanding nods and gentle encouragement, thinking they were helping her through a difficult time.

But Conrad knew her better than that. He knew this was something more, something else. Belly had always been resilient, her spirit unbreakable even in the face of adversity. Her amnesia was just another challenge, one he was sure she could overcome. Yet, there was a heaviness in her demeanour now, a sadness that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t just the frustration of forgotten memories; it was something deeper, something that gnawed at her from within.

He had seen it in her eyes, the way they would sometimes fill with an inexplicable sorrow when she thought he wasn’t looking. He had noticed the subtle tremor in her hands when she thought back to moments she couldn’t quite grasp. And most of all, he had felt the growing distance between them, a chasm that seemed to widen with each passing day.

The remote cracked under the pressure of his teeth, a sharp reminder that he couldn’t sit in indecision forever. He needed to do something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed between them. He spat out a piece of plastic and grabbed his laptop off the coffee table, determination coursing through him.

He would fix this.

Conrad awoke with a start, his neck stiff from slumping over the laptop. Blinking groggily, he glanced around the dimly lit room, momentarily disoriented. The faint glow of sunlight filtering through the blinds illuminated the coffee table, where his laptop now rested, its faint hum breaking the silence of the house.

Rubbing his eyes, Conrad sat up slowly, his mind still foggy from sleep. He vaguely recalled diving into research about amnesia, his concerns about Belly’s condition driving him to delve into medical articles and case studies for the better part of the day. But now, as he surveyed the scattered books and half-empty coffee mug strewn across the table, he realised he must have drifted off at some point.

With a yawn, he stretched his limbs, feeling the stiffness begin to ebb away.

The house was unusually quiet – almost unnervingly so. Belly had been asleep in her room by the time he returned from his morning surf, but it was now verging on dinner time. She would need to eat. Armed with this excuse, Conrad made his way through the house to her bedroom door.

As he reached the threshold, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. He wondered if he should knock, if he should give her some space to rest. But then he remembered the look on her face that morning, the tear stains that adorned her cheeks.

With a resigned sigh, Conrad pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the floor. Belly’s bed lay empty, the covers neatly folded at the foot of the mattress.

His heart sank at the sight.

Where could she be? Had she wandered off somewhere in a daze, lost in the labyrinth of her mind?

Fighting back a rising sense of panic, Conrad forced himself to remain calm. He needed to think logically, to consider all the possibilities before jumping to conclusions. Taking a deep breath, he stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the space for any signs of where Belly may have gone.

But the room was empty, devoid of any clues as to her whereabouts. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Conrad realised he would need to search the house, to comb through each room until he found her.

He searched every room in the house, methodically checking every corner and calling out her name in growing concern. Each empty room only heightened his anxiety, the silence of the house pressing in on him like a weight.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Conrad ventured outside, hoping against hope that he would find her somewhere on the property. He checked by the pool, scanning the area for any sign of movement. Nothing.

His heart pounding in his chest, he made his way down to the beach, the sound of crashing waves mingling with the racing thoughts in his mind. He called out her name into the vast expanse of sand and sea, his voice echoing back to him in eerie emptiness.

But there was no sign of Belly, no trace of her presence anywhere along the shoreline.

Determined not to give up, Conrad turned back towards the house, his mind racing with possibilities. He would drive around Cousin’s until he caught sight of her, scouring every street and alley if he had to.

But as he reached the front porch, his breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes upon her. There she was, comfortably perched on one of the wicker chairs, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if lost in thought.

Relief flooded through Conrad as he took the sight in, his heart pounding with a mixture of worry and gratitude. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion as he stepped towards her.

“Are you hiding from me?”

Her lips, painted with a delicate shade of rose, twitched into a faint smile, not quite reaching her eyes. She shifted slightly, the soft fabric of her dress rustling with the movement, before meeting his gaze.

“I’m not hiding,” she finally replied, her words careful and measured, like a delicate dance around the truth. “Just… lost in thought, I suppose.”

Conrad approached her slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he drew nearer. He could see the faint lines of worry etched into her features, the shadows of uncertainty that lingered in her eyes. Despite her attempt to mask her emotions, he could sense the turmoil swirling beneath the surface.

“Lost in thought, huh?” Conrad echoed softly, mischief overtaking his features as he attempted to lighten the mood. “Well, I hope you left a trail of breadcrumbs so you can find your way back.”

He cringed internally at his own attempt at humour.

“That was… bad,” she remarked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head in amusement, the tension between them momentarily loosening its grip.

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the setting sun casting a warm glow over their surroundings. The gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden.

In the fading light, Conrad reached out, his hand ruffling Belly’s hair affectionately. She tilted her head slightly, allowing the gentle gesture to wash over her like a soothing wave. Their eyes met, sharing a silent exchange that spoke volumes without the need for words.

“Belly,” he started, “I was thinking, I don’t need to head back to New York until tomorrow evening. How about we take it easy tomorrow? Sleep in, maybe go for a swim, grab lunch in town. Just spend some time together. I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”

Conrad paused, gathering his courage before stealing a glance at Belly – but she wasn’t paying any attention to him. Her gaze, unfocused yet intense, seemed to pierce through the veil of reality, delving deep into the corners of her mind.

He watched, a silent observer, as she blinked, the flutter of her eyelashes a gentle return to the present moment. Slowly, the distant haze that veiled her gaze lifted, replaced by a look of confusion that mirrored his own uncertainty. “Sorry, what was that?”

He considered questioning her about where her mind had just wandered, but thought better of it, sensing that now might not be the right time to pry. Opting instead for a more straightforward approach, he repeated himself, his voice gentle yet persistent. “I was asking what you wanted to do tomorrow. If you wanted to leave early or stay here, have one last swim – maybe grab lunch before we head back?”

“Oh, um… sure, lunch sounds great.”

As she slipped once more into the labyrinth of her thoughts, he sensed a different quality to her introspection, a heaviness that hung in the air like an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of her brow deepened, her features contorted ever so slightly by the weight of invisible burdens. It was as if each fleeting moment of silence carried with it a whisper of pain. Conrad watched her, feeling a pang of helplessness. He wished he could reach into her mind and pull out whatever was tormenting her, but he knew he had to wait for her to be ready to share it.

The silence between them grew more pronounced with each second. He wanted to say something, to break through the barrier that seemed to be forming, but the right words eluded him. Instead, he stole glances at her, hoping she might open up on her own. The minutes stretched on, and just as Conrad began to feel the weight of the silence pressing down on him, Belly suddenly spoke.

“Don’t lie.”

The words slipped out like a fragile secret, barely audible above the gentle hum of the surrounding silence.

Conrad’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected speech, his own breath catching in his throat. He turned to face Belly fully, the gravity of her tone pulling him from his own thoughts and into the intensity of the moment.

“What was that?” he questioned, concern etched across his face.

Belly hesitated, her eyes widening before settling on him with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “Oh, nothing,” she stuttered, her tone lacking the conviction required to convince him.

Conrad felt the urge to repeat her words back to her. Don’t lie.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.”

He could almost see the cogs turning behind her eyes, as if she were searching desperately for an alternative to honesty. Her hesitation spoke volumes. But as she faltered, unable to fabricate a convincing lie, Conrad recognised the moment of surrender in her expression. It was a silent admission that she couldn’t escape the truth any longer.

“It was just… a memory,” she admitted.

Her struggle with recalling memories wasn’t news to him; after all, she had confided in him after the first memory she had unearthed. Yet, despite his genuine desire for her to remember, there was a part of him that recoiled from the thought of what that might mean – for her, for him, for their relationship. He had buried these fears deep within himself, refusing to let them surface, but now, confronted with the possibility of Belly recalling even more memories, those fears clawed their way back to the forefront of his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to remember; he did, with every fibre of his being. He longed for her to reclaim the pieces of her past, to unravel the mysteries that had shrouded her life for the past week. But intertwined with that longing was a fear so profound, so consuming, that he could barely bring himself to acknowledge it. He was scared of what those memories might reveal, of the pain they might dredge up, of the ways in which they might reshape their present and their future.

“Hey, Belly,” he began, “Are you… remembering more?”

As Conrad posed the question, his voice softened with concern, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Belly met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a tumultuous mix of emotions – uncertainty, fear, but also a glimmer of determination. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal.

“I think so,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been… remembering bits and pieces.”

He listened in silence as her words hung in the air, the weight of her revelation settling over them like a heavy blanket.

We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “Together.”

Conrad was not sleeping tonight, that was for sure. His mind was racing, replaying his conversation with Belly earlier over and over. The uncertainty gnawed at him, each thought feeding his anxiety. What possible memories could she have recalled? His imagination ran wild, conjuring up scenarios that ranged from mundane to catastrophic.

He tossed and turned, the questions swirling in his head like a relentless storm. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Belly’s face, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination as she admitted to remembering bits and pieces. What if those memories were painful? What if they involved him in ways he couldn’t anticipate or understand? He feared that the past she was piecing together might change everything between them.

Conrad’s heart ached at the thought. He had tried so hard to be her anchor during this turbulent time, but now he felt like he was adrift in uncharted waters. He couldn’t shake the feeling that with every memory Belly regained, the more distant she became – as if the person she was remembering was somehow erasing the person he was in the present.

Staring at the ceiling, he felt a profound sense of helplessness. How could he support her through something he couldn’t control or even fully comprehend. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose her, not now, not after everything they’d been through.

He was up early the next day, accepting that the few brief instances of sleep that he managed to snatch were all he was going to get. The first light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the blinds as he quietly slipped out of his room, careful not to disturb Belly down the hall.

In the stillness of the early morning, Conrad laced up his running shoes and headed out the door. The crisp morning air filled his lungs, and he set off at a brisk pace, hoping the physical exertion would help clear his mind. His feet pounded rhythmically against the pavement, each step a beat in the chaotic symphony of his thought. As he ran, he replayed the previous night’s conversation, for the nth time, trying to make sense of his swirling emotions.

By the time he returned, his body was tired but his mind felt slightly more centred. Deciding to do something thoughtful, he made his way to their favourite breakfast spot to pick up some food. He hoped the gesture would ease some of the tension and offer a comforting start to their day.

Back home, he moved quietly through the house, setting the food on the kitchen table and arranging everything just the way Belly liked it. He poured her a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room as he glanced at the clock. It was still early, but the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything.

Conrad took a deep breath and headed down the hall to Belly’s room. He paused at the door, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. Knocking softly, he called her name, hoping today would bring them both some clarity – and perhaps a step closer to understanding and overcoming whatever challenges her returning memories might pose.

Conrad stood at the sink, methodically rinsing the plates from breakfast, the sound of running water a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. He placed a clean plate on the drying rack and turned to grab another when he noticed Belly walking into the kitchen, a towel slung over her shoulder and a distant look in her eyes.

“Hey,” he called out, offering a small smile. “Heading to the beach?”

Belly nodded, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of the towel. “Yeah. Last chance and all.”

Conrad’s heart tightened at the finality in her words. He turned off the faucet and wiped his hands on a dish towel, stepping closer to her. “You sure you’re up for it? You seemed pretty out of it last night.”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I just need some time to clear my head. Swimming always helps.”

“Alright,” he said gently, studying her face. “Just… be careful, okay?”

Belly’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “I will. Thanks.”

She turned to leave, but Conrad’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Belly, wait.”

She paused, looking back at him with curious eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do you want some company? I can come with you. We don’t have to talk, just… be there together.”

Belly hesitated, her expression softening as she considered his offer. "I appreciate that, Conrad. But I think I need to do this alone. There’s just so much going on in my head, and I need to sort it out by myself.”

He nodded, understanding but unable to shake the worry bubbling within him. “Okay. But if you need me, I’m here. Don’t hesitate to call or come back if you feel overwhelmed.”

“I will,” she promised, giving him a reassuring look. “I’ll be back soon.”

Conrad watched as she walked out of the kitchen and out the back door, heading towards the beach. The sight of her retreating figure filled him with a mix of pride and sadness. He admired her strength, but he also felt an overwhelming desire to protect her from the storm of memories and emotions she was facing.

He sighed, turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up. The plates might have been spotless, but the turmoil inside him was anything but.

They spent the rest of the morning quietly existing around each other, Conrad respecting Belly’s need for space. The atmosphere in the house was thick with unspoken words and emotions, but Conrad knew pushing her would only make things worse. Instead, he busied himself with mundane tasks, keeping his mind occupied while always keeping an eye on her.

From the window, he watched as Belly swam. Her strokes were strong and graceful, each movement cutting through the water with a kind of precision that spoke to her need for control, for some semblance of normalcy. The sight was both reassuring and heart-wrenching; she was trying to find her way back to herself, and all he could do was stand by and hope she would let him in when she was ready.

As the morning wore on, they moved around each other in a delicate dance, a silent choreography of packing and preparing to leave. Conrad folded clothes, meticulously placing them in his bag, while Belly gathered her things, her movements deliberate and slow. They exchanged the occasional glance, a wordless acknowledgement of each other’s presence and the unspoken bond that tethered them together.

Conrad caught glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye as she moved about the house, her brow furrowed in concentration as she ran through her to-do list. He felt a pang of sadness knowing that this house, this beach, had held so many memories for them. Now, it seemed like those memories were coming back to haunt them, resurfacing in painful fragments that threatened to undo everything.

The house, once a sanctuary of their love and laughter, now felt like a minefield of memories. Each photograph, each piece of furniture, was a potential trigger, a reminder of a time that Belly was slowly starting to piece together. And with each fragment she recalled, the fear that their bond might be tainted by past mistakes grew stronger within him.

He wanted to say something, but the words felt inadequate. Instead, he focused on being there, a steady presence in the background, ready to catch her if she needed support. As she zipped up her bag and set it by the door, their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Belly broke the gaze first, turning to check if she had forgotten anything. Conrad sighed quietly and went back to his own packing, the rhythmic actions a small comfort in the midst of his swirling thoughts.

They sat down for lunch at a small restaurant by the beach, their last stop before heading back to New York. The place was cosy, with large windows offering a clear view of the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing background, but it did little to ease the tension between them. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions neither dared to voice. They picked up their menus, their eyes scanning the options without really seeing them, the awkwardness hanging between them like a tangible presence.

After they place their orders, Conrad cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had stretched on for far too long. He needed to know, to understand the fragments of Belly’s memories that had begun to surface. “Belly,” he began cautiously, his voice soft yet insistent, “about the memories you’ve been recalling… Are they… are they about us?”

Belly’s fork paused mid-air, her eyes widening slightly before she set it down and looked at him. Her expression was a mix of hesitation and resolve, as if she had been expecting this question but still wasn’t entirely prepared to answer it. She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the table before meeting his once more.

“Some of them are.”

His heart ached at her words. “Are they… painful memories?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

She hesitated, the silence between them growing thicker, more oppressive. Finally, she nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yes, some of them are.”

Conrad felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He struggled to breathe, his chest tightening as the weight of her words settled over him. The pain in her eyes mirrored his own, and for a moment, he was paralysed by the fear that their past might destroy their present.

Belly took another deep breath, clearly steeling herself to continue. “I remember the things you said, that summer,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “When I was supposed to marry your brother.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. Memories of that time flooded back, the confusion, the heartache, the words spoken in anger and desperation. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he felt rooted to his seat, the enormity of the situation pressing down on him.

“What am I supposed to do with those memories?” Belly’s voice broke slightly, her vulnerability laid bare.

Conrad finally found his voice, though it felt weak and distant. “I’m sorry, Belly,” Conrad whispered, “I’m so sorry. I can’t change what happened in the past, but I want you to know that I don’t want to lose you now that I have you back in my life.”

Her eyes glistened with tears as she struggled to process his words. “But how do we move forward?” she asked, “How do we reconcile everything that’s happened between us with what he have now?”

Conrad’s heart ached at the pain in her voice, the weight of her question hanging heavily in the air. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. It felt like every reassurance he could offer would be inadequate, every promise empty in the face of their complicated history.

“It feels like all the time we’ve spent together this week was a lie,” Belly continued, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Like we’ve been pretending that the past between us never happened. That you’ve been pretending.”

Conrad felt a lump in his throat, her accusation crushing him. He wanted to explain, to tell her that every moment they had shared was real, that he had cherished every second of their time together.

“I don’t know what to say,” Conrad admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you, Belly. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right between us.”

Belly looked at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of sincerity. “I want to believe you, Conrad,” she said softly. “But right now, I don’t know if I can.”

Their food arrived, but neither of them made a move to touch it. The silence between them stretched on, heavy and suffocating. Conrad’s heart ached with the knowledge that he might have lost her again, just as he was starting to find his way back to her.

As they neared Belly’s apartment, the tension between them hung heavy in the air, suffocating any attempts at conversation. The journey back to New York felt longer and more uncomfortable than ever before. Both Conrad and Belly sat in silence, their gazes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at each other. They tried to occupy themselves with other things, fidgeting with the radio dial or adjusting the air conditioning, anything to distract from the palpable awkwardness that filled the car.

Even when a song they both loved came on the radio, neither of them sang along. The familiar melody washed over them, but it felt hollow and distant, unable to bridge the growing chasm between them. Conrad’s fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white with tension, while Belly stared out the window, her thoughts a million miles away.

When they finally pulled up outside Belly’s building, neither of them made a move to break the silence. Conrad’s heart clenched with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He hoped desperately that she would invite him up, that they could continue their conversation in the privacy of her home. But as Belly remained silent, her gaze fixed on the dashboard, he knew that his hopes were in vain.

Conrad swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “Well, uh, we’re here,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Belly nodded, her expression unreadable as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door. Conrad watched her go, the ache in his chest growing with each step she took away from him. He wanted to call out to her, to beg her to let him in, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything.

With a heavy heart, Conrad pulled away from the curb and drove back to his own apartment. The familiar surroundings offered little comfort as he climbed the stairs to his door, each step a painful reminder of everything he had lost. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence of the empty apartment echoing in his ears.

For the first time since that fateful day, Conrad was alone in his own space.

As Conrad sat on the sofa, the darkness of the apartment enveloped him like a heavy blanket. He had been there since he got back, lost in his thoughts and grappling with the weight of his emotions. Outside, the world had faded into darkness, the streetlights casting long shadows across the room.

Anger simmered beneath the surface of Conrad’s calm exterior, directed not at Belly, but at himself. He should have handled things differently, should have found the right words to say, the right actions to take. But when it came to Belly, he realised, he was never in control. He was guided by his heart, not his mind, and it had led him down paths he never imagined he would tread.

He clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him like a raging river. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of it all. But instead, he remained seated in the darkness, his thoughts swirling like a tempest in his mind. He knew that no amount of anger or regret could change the past, could undo the mistakes he had made. All he could do was learn from them, and try to do better next time.

But as the minutes ticked by, Conrad couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at him from the inside out. He longed for the warmth of Belly’s presence, for the sound of her laughter and the touch of her hand. But he knew that she was slipping further and further away from him, with each passing moment.

With a heavy sigh, Conrad leaned back against the sofa cushions, closing his eyes and willing the darkness to swallow him whole. His mind was so consumed with turmoil that he barely registered the passage of time.  But when he caught sight of the clock on the wall, its hands ticking relentlessly forward, a jolt of panic shot through him. He had been lost in his emotions for far too long, and now he was going to be late for his first shift back at work.

With a curse under his breath, Conrad leapt up from the sofa, his movements frantic as he grabbed his phone and keys from the coffee table. He didn’t bother with lights, relying on the glow of his phone screen to guide him as he hurriedly made his way to the door.

The next day dawned with a cruel clarity.  Conrad had worked tirelessly through the night and into the morning, his shift a gruelling marathon of pain and disease. He had witness the ravages of disease up close, felt the weight of suffering pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

The hours had blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and adrenaline, each moment bleeding into the next with relentless inevitability. He had barely had time to catch his breath, let alone drink water or eat anything. His stomach churned with hunger, but he pushed the feeling aside, his focus consumed by the needs of his patients.

As he stumbled to the hospital cafeteria during his belated lunch break, Conrad felt like a shell of himself, drained of energy and emotion. The world spun around him, a dizzying whirlwind of sights and sounds that threatened to overwhelm his senses. He longed for nothing more than the comfort of his own bed, the promise of sleep a distant beacon on the horizon.

But duty called, and Conrad forced himself to press on, his footsteps heavy and sluggish as he made his way towards an empty table. Before he could even sit down to enjoy a moment of respite, the slam of a tray on the table next to him shattered the silence. He glanced up to see his friend, Agnes, sliding into the chair opposite him with a grin plastered on her face. She obviously hadn’t suffered through her shift in the same way he had.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and cheerful. “Where have you been?”

Conrad managed a weak smile, though he was too exhausted to summon much enthusiasm. “Hey, Aggie. How are you?”

Agnes raised an eyebrow, her expression playful. ‘Nuh-uh, we are not talking about me right now. The rumour mill has been working overtime in your absence. Is there something you have to tell me, Mr. Mysterious?”

Conrad shrugged, the weight of his exhaustion settling like a leaden anchor in his chest. “Can’t remember,” he muttered, pushing his food around on his tray without much interest.

“Right. So, about this secret wife and kids?”

He almost choked on his food at the mention of the rumour, his tired mind struggling to process Agnes’s teasing. He quickly shook his head, denying the existence of any secret wife and kids, but Agnes was relentless in her pursuit of gossip.

“Well? Why does everyone and their mother think you have a fiancé, then?”

Conrad hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet Agnes’s eyes. “It’s Belly,” he admitted quietly, the words heavy with a mixture of guilt and longing.

Agnes’s expression softened, understanding gracing her features. “Oh,” she said simply, her voice gentle. “What about her?”

He sighed heavily. “Belly was in a car accident,” he confessed, his voice laced with worry. “She was admitted to this hospital.”

His friend’s eyes widened in concern, her playful demeanour fading as she listened intently. “Oh, Con,” she murmured sympathetically, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. “I had no idea. Is she okay?”

Conrad nodded, relief flooding through him at the chance to share his worries with someone who cared. “She’s stable now, thankfully,” he said, though the memory of seeing Belly lying in that hospital bed still haunted him. “But it was touch and go for a while.”

Agnes squeezed his arm in silent support, her expression a mixture of compassion and understanding. “I’m so sorry, Conrad. That must have been incredibly difficult for you.”

He managed a small, grateful smile. “Yeah, it was,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not just that…”

As Agnes leaned in, eager to hear more, Conrad recounted the events of the past few days – from his slip of the tongue calling Belly his fiancée so he could stay by her side, to his decision to take time off work to be there for her. He told her about Belly regaining her memories, about the uncertainty that hung between them now as they navigated their complicated relationship.

Agnes listened attentively, offering words of comfort and encouragement when needed. When Conrad finally fell silent, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air, she reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

“Con,” she said softly, “you’ve been carrying this burden alone for too long. But you don’t have to anymore. You and Belly will sort this out together, I’m sure of it. This is your chance to finally talk it over, to lay everything out on the table and move forward. Whether that’s with her, or without her, you’ll find a way to heal.”

Conrad nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him like a comforting blanket. “Thanks, Aggie,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him. “I needed to hear that.”

With Agnes’s words echoing in his mind, Conrad felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had engulfed him. As they finished their meal and prepared to return to their respective duties, he felt a renewed sense of purpose coursing through his veins.

Conrad’s shift finally came to an end, the long hours stretching out behind him like a wearing traveller’s path. He had avoided looking at his phone all shift, leaving it tucked away in his locker, unable to bear the thought of distractions while attending to his patients. But now, as he retrieved his phone and unlocked the screen, a flutter of anticipation stirred in his chest.

His heart sank as he scrolled through his notifications, searching desperately for a message from Belly. But there was nothing – no missed calls, no texts, no voicemails. A heavy weight settled over him, disappointment washing over him like a cold wave. He had hoped that she would reach out to him, that she would want to talk, to reconnect after their tumultuous parting.

But the silence from her end spoke volumes, leaving Conrad feeling more alone than ever. He tried to push aside the ache in his chest. Maybe she just needed more time, he told himself, maybe she was still processing everything that had happened. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness that threatened to consume him whole.

With a heavy sigh, Conrad pocketed his phone and made his way out of the hospital, the weight of his exhaustion dragging at his footsteps. All he wanted was to hear from Belly, to know that she was okay, to feel the warmth of her presence even if it was just through a text message.

Conrad stirred from a fitful sleep on the sofa. He had fallen asleep fully clothed, too exhausted to even make it to his bed after returning home from work. As he groggily reached for his phone on the coffee table, the shrill ring of the incoming call startled him awake.

Heart pounding with anticipation, he fumbled for his phone, his mind racing with the hope that it might be Belly calling. With trembling fingers, he answered the call, his voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Conrad, It’s Jere.”

The shock of hearing his brother’s voice on the other end of the line jolted Conrad fully awake, his heart sinking with disappointment. He had been so sure it was Belly calling, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he would say to her. But now, faced with the reality of his brother’s call, he struggled to find the right words.

“Jere,” he replied, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Finally got around to returning your calls and texts from earlier in the week. Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

Conrad’s frustration simmered beneath the surface as he listened to Jeremiah’s casual explanation. “Busy?” he repeated incredulously, his voice tinged with bitterness. “What exactly could have kept you so busy that you couldn’t return calls about Belly being in the hospital?”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line before Jeremiah responded, his tone defensive. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But I’m not even in the country, Conrad. And I haven’t spoken to Belly in years. She’s practically a stranger to me.”

Conrad’s frustration boiled over, his exhaustion fuelling his pent-up emotions. “Family shows up for each other, Jere,” he snapped, his voice laced with accusation. “No matter what happened between us all, that’s what family does. And Belly would never be a stranger to you if you bothered to pick up the damn phone once in a while."

Jeremiah’s retort cut through the tension like a knife, his voice tinged with frustration. “And when did you last call her, Con? I mean, before all this happened?”

His breath caught in his throat at his brother’s pointed question, the weight of his words hitting him like a sledgehammer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had reached out to Belly before everything had unravelled, before her memories had slipped away like grains of sand through his fingers.

The guilt settled heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of his own shortcomings. Conrad couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever be able to move past the events of that summer. The pain and betrayal still lingered beneath the surface, threatening to fracture their fragile bond even further.

But before he could dwell on his thoughts anymore, Jeremiah’s voice broke through the silence, his tone testing. “Besides,” he continued, “I thought you’d be happy I’m not there. Gives you a chance to swoop in and get the girl. Or do you only want her when she’s marrying me?”

Conrad’s grip tightened on the phone, his frustration boiling over into a simmering anger at Jeremiah’s accusation. “That’s not fair, Jere,” he countered, his voice tense with emotion. “I’ve always wanted Belly. You know that. I wanted her before you ever did.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line before Jeremiah let out a heavy sigh. “I know,” he admitted, his tone softer now, tinged with resignation. “I know, Conrad. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

Conrad felt a weight lift off his shoulders at his brother’s admission, a flicker of hope igniting within him. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to move forward from all this.

There was a moment of quiet understanding between them before Jeremiah spoke again, his voice laced with genuine concern. “How is she, Conrad? How’s Belly?”

Conrad’s heart clenched at the mention of her name, a surge of longing flooding through him. “She’s… she’s okay,” he replied, his voice faltering slightly. “Still recovering, but… she’s hanging in there.”

Jeremiah’s sigh echoed through the phone, a mixture of relief and regret. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said softly. “Tell her… tell her I’m sorry, okay? And that… I hope she’s doing better soon."

Conrad nodded, even though his brother couldn’t see him. “I will,” he promised, the sincerity of his words ringing true. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to deliver those sentiments to Belly, to reassure her with Jeremiah’s apologies and well wishes. But he worried that opportunity might not come.

Before he could say anything more, Jeremiah interjected with a hurried excuse. “Hey, sorry, Con, but I’ve gotta go,” Jeremiah rushed, “Lacie’s asking me to put suncream on her back.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the excuse, exasperation washing over him. “Of course,” he replied, his tone dripping with faux cheeriness. “Wouldn’t want her getting sunburned on your watch.”

With a final exchange of farewells, the call ended, leaving Conrad alone with his thoughts once more.

The next few days passed fairly uneventfully for Conrad. He threw himself into his work, pulling long hours and picking up whatever overtime he could, barely giving himself time to think. From the moment he stepped into the hospital until the moment he finally dragged himself home in the evening, his focus was solely on his patients and their care, leaving little room for anything else.

By the time he stumbled through the door of his apartment each day, exhaustion seeped deep into his bones. Conrad would stumble through the door, barely able to muster the energy to shed his coat before collapsing onto the sofa. With a weary sigh, he would close his eyes, the events of the day fading into a haze as sleep claimed him.

He tried to keep himself busy during his moments of respite, filling his time with mundane tasks and errands to avoid the quiet stillness that allowed his thoughts to wander. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, Conrad couldn’t shake the persistent ache in his chest or the nagging worry that chewed at his conscience.

Conrad was now seated at the nurses’ station, finally experiencing a moment of downtime after days of being run off his feet. He tried not to let his mind wander, his eyes scanning over the same patient chart repeatedly, searching for an answer that seemed to elude him at every turn. Frustration bubbled within him as he struggled to make sense of the medical puzzle before him.

Just as he was about to delve back into the chart, Conrad was interrupted by Agnes, looking lost and out of place on the Oncology ward. She approached him with an urgent look in her eyes, her expression betraying a sense of urgency that instantly caught his attention.

“Conrad, I heard something,” Agnes began, her voice hushed yet urgent. “Here, come with me.”

Intrigued and slightly apprehensive, Conrad followed Agnes as she led him down the corridor, his mind racing with possibilities. What could she have heard that warranted such urgency? As they entered the on-call room and shut the door behind them, he braced himself for whatever news awaited him.

“What did you hear?” Conrad asked, his voice low, his brow furrowed with concern.

Agnes took a deep breath, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of determination and sympathy. “I’ve been… seeing one of the residents in the neurology department,” she admitted, her words hesitant. “And they happened to mention that my friend’s fiancée was coming in for a follow up later today.”

Conrad’s heart skipped a beat at her words, his mind racing to catch up. “Wait… Belly?” he interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Agnes nodded solemnly. “Yes, Belly. Her appointment is in like fifteen minutes, and you need to be here,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care what has happened, you’re going to go and show her that you’re not the same Conrad she knew.”

A rush of conflicting emotions surged through Conrad at the mention of Belly’s name. Relief flooded through him at the thought of seeing her again, mixed with apprehension at the prospect of facing her after everything that transpired between them. But Agnes’s unwavering resolve spurred something within him, a flicker of purpose that cut through the uncertainty.

“Okay,” Conrad replied, his voice firm despite the lingering doubt that gnawed at him. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Great,” Agnes exclaimed, a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. Without waiting for further hesitation, she grabbed Conrad by the hand and pulled him out of the room, her determination propelling them forward. He stumbled slightly, caught off guard by Agnes’s sudden assertiveness, but he allowed himself to be led.

They hurried through the bustling corridors of the hospital, Agnes leading the way with purposeful strides. Conrad’s heart raced with anticipation and nervousness, his thoughts swirling with a thousand questions and uncertainties. Yet, Agnes’s unwavering grip on his hand left him with no choice but to follow.

Before he knew it, they arrived at the neurology consultation room, the sterile surrounding a stark contrast to the chaos of the hospital corridors. Agnes pushed open the door, her gaze locking with Conrad’s in a silent plea for him to stay strong.

“This is it,” she said firmly, her voice low but resolute. “Now, you wait here for Belly. Don’t give yourself a chance to chicken out, okay?”

Conrad’s hand shot out instinctively, grasping Agnes’s arm to stop her from leaving. The question that had been haunting him for days now spilled from his lips, his voice laced with fear and uncertainty. “But what if she doesn’t want to see me?”

Agnes pauses, her gaze softening as she turned back to face him. A sigh escaped her lips, carrying with it the weight of understanding. “Conrad, I can’t promise you what Belly’s reaction will be,” she replied gently, her tone tinged with empathy. “But I know that she’s been through a lot, and she needs you now more than ever.”

Her words struck a chord within Conrad, stirring a sense of determination within him. Despite the fear and doubt that threatened to consume him, he knew that he couldn’t let Belly face this alone. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and met Agnes’s gaze with newfound resolve.

“Okay,” he said firmly, “Okay.”

Agnes offered him a reassuring smile, her expression filled with silent encouragement. With a nod of affirmation, she squeezed his hand briefly before slipping out of the room, leaving Conrad alone with his thoughts.

As he waited for Belly’s arrival, Conrad found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, hope, regret and longing swirled within him, each vying for dominance in his tumultuous heart.

Conrad’s senses sharpened as he heard the faint murmur of voices approaching down the corridor, the sound growing louder with each passing moment. His heart quickened with anticipation, nerves coiling tightly in the pit of him stomach as he braced himself for what was to come.

Then, finally, they appeared – the doctor leading the way, with Belly trailing behind. Conrad’s breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on her for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She looked as beautiful as ever, yet there was a weariness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

As they entered the room, the doctor greeted Conrad with a warm smile, his professional demeanour offering a comforting reassurance in the midst of the swirling emotions. But it was Belly who held Conrad’s gaze, her expression unreadable as she paused at the threshold.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as they locked eyes – a silent exchange passing between them – a thousand words left unspoken. Then, with a determined resolve, Belly crossed the threshold and took the seat next to Conrad, her presence a balm to his troubled soul.

As the doctor and Belly settled into their respective seats, a palpable tension hung in the air, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Conrad watched intently as the doctor began his examination, his questions gentle yet probing as he inquired about Belly’s well-being.

“Have you been experiencing any headaches, Isabel?” the doctor asked, his voice a soothing cadence in the quiet room.

Belly’s response was measured, her gaze flickering briefly to Conrad before returning to the doctor. “Yes, occasionally,” she admitted, her tone guarded.

Conrad felt a pang of concern at her response, his fingers flexing nervously in his lap. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to offer her the comfort and support she needed. But he remained rooted to his seat, unable to bridge the divide that seemed to stretch between them.

The doctor’s next question hung in the air, heavy with significance. “And have you recalled any memories, Belly? Anything at all?”

Conrad could sense Belly tense up beside him, her breath catching in her throat before she finally spoke.

“Yes,” she replied, “My memories have come back.”

His mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions at Belly’s revelation. She remembered everything? How could that be? When did that happen? Questions flooded his mind, yet before he could voice them, the doctor interjected, his voice filled with genuine warmth and encouragement.

“That’s wonderful news, Isabel,” the doctor exclaimed, his eyes crinkling at the corner with a smile. “The return of your memories is a positive sign of progress in your recovery.”

Conrad wanted to echo the doctor’s sentiment, to express his relief and joy at Belly’s regained memories. But as the doctor proceeded with his examination, conducting physical tests and assessments, Conrad found himself unable to form coherent words.

He watched in silence as Belly underwent the examination, her expression shifting subtly with each test. There was a vulnerability in her demeanour that tugged at Conrad’s heartstrings, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance.

As the examination drew to a close, the doctor offered his reassurances once more, his words a soothing balm to the lingering tension in the room. Conrad listened intently, a sense of gratitude washing over him as he watched Belly nod in agreement.

With a final smile, the doctor concluded the examination, leaving Conrad and Belly alone in the quiet confines of the consultation room. As the door closed behind him, the room seemed to grow even quieter, the silence thick and charged.

Conrad turned to Belly, his heart pounding in his chest. She wouldn’t look at him at first, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He took a deep breath, summoning the courage to break the silence.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” Belly replied, her voice equally soft, her eyes still avoiding his.

The quiet settled between them, heavy and awkward. Conrad searched for the right words, desperate to bridge the chasm that had grown between them.

“It’s great,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s great that you’ve got your memories back.”

Belly finally looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was a mixture of emotions in her gaze – relief, apprehension, and something else he couldn’t quite decipher. She nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she said, “It’s… it’s been a lot to process.”

Conrad nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand and offer her the support she needed, but he hesitated, unsure if she would welcome his touch.

“I can’t imagine,” he said softly. “But I’m here for you, Belly. Whatever you need.”

Belly’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude shining through the apprehension. “Thank you, Conrad,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I know you are.”

He felt a glimmer of hope at her words, a small step towards mending the rift between them. There was still so much left unsaid, so many wounds that needed healing, but for now, he was content with this small moment of connection.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Conrad added, his voice sincere. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Belly’s gaze softened further, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I know,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

The silence that followed was different this time, less heavy and filled more with the promise of understanding. As they sat there, side by side, the weight of their past began to lift, replaced by a shared sense of hope and possibility.

Conrad took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm settle over him. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on Belly’s. To his relief, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her hand over, intertwining her fingers with his.

Chapter Text

Belly knew Conrad was worried. She could see it in the way he looked at her, feel it in the way he hovered nearby, always ready to offer help or comfort. His worry enveloped her, making her feel both cherished and trapped.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his care; she did. In fact, there were moments when his attentiveness touched her so deeply, moments when she was grateful for his unwavering support. But alongside her recalled memories, his attention felt suffocating. Every kind gesture, every worried glance, stirred up the past, bringing back emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

She needed space to sort through her thoughts, to process everything that had resurfaced. The memories of their past, the current state of their relationship, and her own swirling emotions were all tangled together in her mind. She needed time alone, time to think and breathe without the pressure of his watchful eyes. Only then could she hope to make sense of the chaos within her.

Now, as they sat across from each other at lunch, the unspoken tension hung between them like a thick fog. She could tell he wanted to talk, to bridge the growing distance between them. But Belly wasn’t ready for that conversation, not yet. She focused on the menu, tracing the words with her finger as if the decision of what to eat required her utmost attention.

Once they placed their orders, Belly no longer had the menu to hide behind. She felt exposed, the protective barrier of distraction taken away. She could sense Conrad’s gaze on her, patient yet persistent, waiting for the right moment to break the silence.

“Belly,” he began, his voice soft but insistent, “about the memories you’ve been recalling… are they… are they about us?”

Desperately, she searched for an out, any distraction that could delay this moment of confrontation. But the restaurant was quiet, their table secluded from the bustle of the other diners. There was no escape. The anticipation of this conversation had loomed over her for days, and now, there was no avoiding it.

Taking a deep breath, Belly steadied herself. She summoned all her courage, drawing strength from a place deep within that she hadn’t tapped into in a long time. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and met Conrad’s eyes. The concern and longing in his expression almost broke her resolve, but she held firm. “Some of them are.”

“Are they… painful memories?”

Belly hesitated, unsure of how to answer Conrad’s question. Painful memories? The words echoed in her mind, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions. The memories were more than painful – they were excruciating, tearing at her heart and soul with relentless force. Each recollection had felt like a dagger to her chest.

She felt her throat constricting, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. It was as if the floodgates of emotion had been opened, and she was struggling to keep herself afloat amidst the deluge of pain and sorrow.

Blinking back tears, Belly struggled to find the words to convey her truth without overwhelming him. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes,” she admitted, her gaze dropping to the table. “Some of them are.”

Now that the words were out in the open, Belly felt a strange sense of empowerment wash over her. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation, but now that it was happening, they were going to do it properly. That meant being honest with Conrad.

“I remember the things you said, that summer,” she began. “When I was supposed to marry your brother.”

As Belly spoke, the emotions swirled within her like a tempest, threatening to overflow and consume her entirely. It was harder for her, this conversation. Conrad had lived five years since that summer, five whole years to process and come to terms with the events that had transpired between them. But for Belly, it was like it had happened yesterday, each memory as raw and vivid as if no time had passed at all.

How had Conrad managed to move on from that summer? She studied his face, searching for any hint of the truth hidden behind his composed exterior. If she asked him, would he have the answers she so desperately craved?

“What am I supposed to do with those memories?” Her voice broke on the last word, betraying the pain and confusion that simmered beneath the surface. She felt exposed, vulnerable, laid bare before him in a way she hadn’t been in years.

Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, she turned her eyes away, focusing on a spot on the table as if it held all the answers she sought.

Conrad’s response was immediate, his words a torrent of apologies and explanations that washed over Belly like a distant murmur. But amidst the chaos of her thoughts, his voice was lost, drowned out by the storm raging within her mind.

She wanted to listen, to hear what he had to say, but the memories clamoured for attention, demanding to be acknowledged. How could she move forward when the past weighed so heavily on her heart?

Blinking back tears, Belly struggled to focus, to anchor herself in the present moment. But the memories pulled at her, dragging her back into the depths of the past where pain and longing intertwined in a tangled web.

“But how do we move forward?” Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she posed the question, her gaze searching his for answers she feared she might not find. “How do we reconcile everything that’s happened between us with what we have now?”

Now that the real question as out there, hanging in the air like a heavy fog, Belly felt a sinking realisation settle in the pit of her stomach. That was the problem, wasn’t it? How do they reconcile their relationship? Conrad had said they hadn’t spoken in a while, so clearly the past versions of themselves hadn’t found a way to move forward together. They obviously didn’t want anything to do with each other.

As she glanced at Conrad, she saw the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow. He was struggling too, she could tell. They were both caught in an entanglement of past hurts and unspoken words, unable to break free.

But then, a chilling realisation crept into her mind, freezing her thoughts in their tracks. Only one of them had amnesia. Conrad had known, this whole time, every single detail of their past together. He had kept it from her, used it to his advantage to edge his way back into her life.

The revelation hit Belly like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and reeling. Anger surged within her, fierce and unyielding. How could he had kept something so monumental from her? How could he have played with her emotions like this, manipulating her vulnerability for his own gain?

Every laugh shared, every intimate moment they had rekindled – it all felt tainted, overshadowed by Conrad’s deceit. The warmth she had felt in his presence now turned to searing rage.

“It feels like all the time we’ve spent together this week was a lie,” Belly’s voice quivered, the words tumbling out before she could fully process them. “Like we’ve been pretending that the past between us never happened. That you’ve been pretending.”

Belly wasn’t breathing, holding her breath as if the very act of exhaling would shatter the fragile façade she had been clinging to. A small part of her still clung to hope, hoping against hope that Conrad would say the right thing, that he would make all the pain fade away with a few simple words. That somehow, miraculously, everything could be fixed that easily.

But deep down, she knew better. She knew that the anger burning within her was consuming her, clouding her judgement and eclipsing and possibility of an easy resolution. Nothing Conrad could say would be enough, not in that moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you Belly, I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right between us.”

Those words weren’t enough. They hung in the air, empty and hollow, failing to bridge the chasm between them. Belly wanted to believe him, she really did. She wanted to have faith in them. But deep down, she knew better. She didn’t believe he could make things right between them. She didn’t think anything would be right ever again.

The anger within her surged, overwhelming any remnants of hope she might have harboured. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but the betrayal cut too deep, the wound too fresh. She shook her head slowly, unable to meet his eyes. “I want to believe you, Conrad. But right now, I don’t know if I can.”

She blames him, in this moment. If they hadn’t come to Cousins – if they had just stayed away – she would never have recalled these memories. She would be fine. They would be fine.

Belly’s anger bubbled up within the tight confines of the car, the small space amplifying her emotions until they felt like they might burst from her chest. The ride home seemed interminable, every minute stretching out as she fought to keep her emotions in check.

She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the passing scenery. Every landmark, every street corner seemed to mock her, a constant reminder of the memories that had been dredged up, of the betrayal she felt so keenly. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure.

Eager to escape the unbearable tension, she counted the seconds until they neared New York. And then again until they pulled up outside her building. The moment the car came to a stop, she unbuckled her seatbelt with a quick, almost frantic motion. She was desperate to get away from the suffocating confines of the car, to breathe in the fresh air and put some physical space between herself and Conrad.

“Well, uh, we’re here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Belly turned away, not trusting herself to say anything. She reached for the door handle, her hand trembling slightly, and pushed the door open. The afternoon sun hit her face, and she inhaled deeply, welcoming the rush of fresh air.

As she walked briskly towards the entrance, she felt Conrad’s gaze on her, a silent plea for understanding or forgiveness that she couldn’t grant. Not now. She needed space, time to sort through the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume her.

She didn’t look back as she reached the door, her steps quickening as if she could outrun the confusion and hurt. The familiar lobby of her building offered a small measure of comfort, the routine of swiping her key card and pressing the elevator button grounding her in a way that the past few days had not. She stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a finality that felt both liberating and isolating.

As the elevator ascended, Belly leaned against the cool metal wall, closing her eyes for a moment. She practised deep breathing, trying to steady herself, but the images and feelings from the past week swirled in her mind, refusing to be ignored.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, she stepped out in the hallway and made her way to her apartment. Each step felt heavy, the weight of her emotions dragging her down. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, the quiet of her home enveloping her like a protective cocoon.

Finally alone, Belly led out a shuddering breath, the tears she had been holding back now freely flowing. She sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands as the sobs wracked her body. The anger and pain poured out of her, an unrelenting tide that she could no longer hold back.

Later that evening, as the sun began to set and the city lights started to flicker to life, Anika returned home. She pushed open the apartment door, her cheerful greeting dying on her lips as she took in the sight of Belly on the couch. Belly’s eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and drawn. The telltale signs of a day spent crying were impossible to miss.

Anika’s heart sank. She had hoped Belly’s trip would bring some clarity, maybe even some happiness. It was clear now that things hadn’t gone as planned. Dropping her bag by the door, Anika made her way to the couch, concern etched on her face.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside Belly. “Rough day?”

Belly nodded, wiping away the remnants of her tears with the back of her hand. “You could say that.”

Anika reached out, gently squeezing Belly’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Belly was silent, her gaze anchored to a spot on the carpet. Then, she took a deep breath and began to speak. “The trip… it brought up a lot of memories. Things I wasn’t ready to deal with. And Conrad… he…” she trailed off, not even knowing what to say, the words getting caught in her throat.

Anika nodded, her expression sympathetic. “There’s a lot of history there,” she said gently.

Belly let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

They shared a small smile, the tension between them easing slightly. Anika shifted, uncertainty flickering in her eyes as she searched for the right words. She didn’t want to overstep, but she couldn’t remain silent either.

“Belly, I don’t know all the details,” she began cautiously. “But I’ve seen how much Conrad cares for you this past week. Whatever happened in the past… it’s in the past. I know it’s hard, but maybe it doesn’t have to define your future.”

Belly sighed, her shoulders slumping further as she stared as the carpet. “It just feels so fresh, so now. Like I’m living through it all over again. Every memory, every hurt…”

Anika hesitated, her gaze dropping to their joined hands before she looked back up at Belly. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to share something that might change everything. “Belly, there’s something you should know. Something that you don’t yet know.”

Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity and a hint of apprehension flickering across her face. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Before your accident, you and Conrad… you hadn’t ruled him out,” Anika said softly.

Belly stared at her, shock evident in her expression. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I thought I had moved on. I thought I was done with him.”

 “I never understood it, to be honest. How you could be so hung up over one guy. He’s just one person, and there are seven billion people in this world. But no matter who you dated, or what you tried, you never were able to shake him from your heart.”

Belly’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they were tears of realisation and confusion mixed together. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

Anika squeezed her hand tighter. “Seeing you two together this past week… I get it now. I never really believed in soulmates, you know? I never thought there was just one person out there for everyone. It seemed too romantic, too idealistic.”

Belly looked up, curiosity mingling with the sadness in her eyes.

“But now, seeing the way you and Conrad look at each other, the way you connect… it makes me believe.”

She had believed Conrad was her soulmate for a long time. And then she had spent a long time trying to convince herself of the opposite. Now, she didn’t know what to think. There was too much going on in her mind, too many emotions swirling and crashing into each other, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. She didn’t want to deal with any of it right now.

Instead, she craved a distraction, something simple and comforting to take her mind off the turmoil. She looked at Anika, a small, tentative smile playing on her lips. “Do you want to order a pizza and watch a movie?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Anika replied, squeezing Belly’s hand one last time before letting go. “That sounds like the perfect plan.

They settled into the couch, scrolling through movie options, and for a little while, the world outside their apartment faded away. It was just the two of them, sharing a pizza, and finding solace in each other’s company. And in that moment, it was enough.

Belly stood in her mother’s kitchen, her hand grasping a drink that Taylor had poured her. The glass was cool against her palm, a small comfort amidst the swirl of emotions that filled the room. Her family and friends had gathered to celebrate her mother’s 50^th birthday, their voices mingling in a lively chorus of laughter and conversation.

Her mother was in the midst of telling a story from her 21^st birthday, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia and joy. “And then, just when we thought the night couldn’t get any crazier, Beck decided we should sneak into the country club’s pool,” she said, her smile widening as she recalled the wild adventure Susannah had orchestrated all those years ago. The room erupted in laughter, everyone hanging on her every word.

Belly tried to join in, forcing a smile as she listened to her mother’s tale. But her mind kept drifting, her gaze repeatedly flicking towards the door. It was a reflex she couldn’t control, a lingering hope that someone else might walk through that door.

She was so sure he would be here. Why else would she have taken so much care in the way she looked? Belly had stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours, smoothing her hair down, adjusting and readjusting the way her dress fell on her shoulders. She had chosen her favourite necklace, a delicate chain with a small pendant that Conrad had given her all those summers ago.

Her mother meant a lot to him; it wasn’t a leap to expect he’d be here tonight. No, surely he was coming. She repeated that thought like a mantra, willing it to be true, as she fiddled with the necklace around her neck and glanced at the door yet again.

Steven caught her in the act, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the counter with a curious look.

Belly’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly dropped her gaze, looking into her glass. “Nothing,” she mumbled, but she knew Steven wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“Right, nothing,” he said, not buying her excuse for a second. “You’ve been looking at the door every five minutes. Who are you expecting?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I just thought… maybe Jeremiah or Conrad would be here. Mom is important to them, too.”

Steven raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Ah, so that’s why you’re all dressed up,” he teased, nudging her playfully. “Thought you were trying to impress someone.”

Belly rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush even hotter. “Shut up, Steven,” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink to hide her embarrassment. “It’s mom’s birthday. I had to look nice.”

Her brother chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Sure, sure,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. “But let’s be real, you were definitely hoping for a certain someone to notice.”

She shot him a pointed look, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. It was silly, really, to cling to hope like this, especially when she hadn’t spoken to or seen Conrad since the summer of her failed wedding.

“Yeah, well, he’s probably busy,” Belly said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s not a big deal.”

Steven’s expression softened, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “It’s a shame none of the Fishers could make it,” he said, his tone sincere. “Jere was really bummed he couldn’t be here. He’s abroad on some work trip.”

Belly felt a pang of regret at the mention of Jeremiah’s absence. Things had never been the same between them. They were polite to each other, exchanging pleasantries when necessary, but their friendship felt more like a distant memory than a present reality. At least he was talking to her, though. Conrad, on the other hand, seemed to be talking to everyone but her.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Maybe next time.” But even as she said the words, she couldn’t shake the lingering sense of disappointment that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Belly woke up the next morning with a heaviness in her chest that seemed to weigh her down, making it difficult to even contemplate getting out of bed. She lay there for hours, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that refused to let her go.

Who was she now, she wondered? What had she become in the years that had been stolen from her memories. It was a question that had plagued her ever since the accident.

She traced the lines of her face with her fingertips, as if searching for answers in the contours of her own skin. There were subtle changes, she noted – the faint lines etched around her eyes, the softening of her features that marked the passage of time. But it was the internal transformations that intrigued her most, the invisible scars and shadows that lingered beneath the surface.

Would she ever get that person back? Or was she doomed to remain lost to time, a shell of the person those around her had come to know. A ghost haunting the corridors of her own existence.

She yearned for a sense of continuity, a thread that would connect the disparate fragments of her memory and weave them into a coherent whole. But the harder she grasped for those elusive threads, the more they seemed to slip through her fingers, leaving her grasping at shadows and echoes.

What did she have to do to reclaim the rest of her memories? Was there some hidden key, some forgotten trigger that would unlock the floodgates of her mind and release the torrent of forgotten experiences?

With a heavy sigh, Belly pushed herself up into a sitting position, her mind still swirling with unanswered questions.

Belly spent the rest of the day in her room, cocooned in a blanket of solitude, surrounded by the artifacts of her past. She sifted through boxes of old photographs, each image a tantalising glimpse into a life she could scarcely remember. With trembling hands, she would grasp each photo, hoping that the memory it held would come flooding back to her.

*

She stood amidst a sea of fluttering graduation gowns, the air alive with the electric buzz of accomplishment and anticipation. Belly watched as Anika and Taylor twirled in their caps and gowns, their laughter ringing out like a melody in the warm spring air. Together, they all posed for pictures, their smiles radiant with the promise of a future brimming with possibility.

As the camera flashed, capturing the fleeting moments of that milestone day, Belly felt a twinge of uncertainty tugging at the edges of her euphoria. While everyone around them buzzed with excitement, their dreams and aspirations spilling forth like confetti, she remained ensnared in the grips of indecision. She listened as her classmates chattered excitedly about their plans for the future – internships, graduate school, job offers – but her own path stretched before her like an uncharted wilderness.

Anika looped her arm through Belly’s, drawing her close as they meandered through the throngs of well-wishers. “Can you believe we made it?” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with pride. “The world is ours for the taking!”

Belly managed a weak smile. She longed to share in Anika’s unbridled optimism, to feel the same sense of exhilaration at the prospect of what lay ahead.

As they reached the edge of the bustling crowd, Anika’s voice broke through Belly’s reverie, pulling her back to the present moment. “So, I just accepted a job in New York.”

Her heart skipped a beat at Anika’s revelation. New York – a city of dreams, pulsating with energy and possibility. “That’s incredible, Anika,” Belly said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. “Congratulations.”

Anika turned to Belly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Thank you,” she started, “And have you made a decision yet? Are you going to join me in New York?”

She had been offered a job in New York, a modest position that promised little more than scraping by in the sprawling metropolis. The allure of the city, with its vibrant energy and endless opportunities, tugged at her heart, but the practicalities gnawed at her confidence.

On the other hand, the job offer on the West Coast stood as a beacon of promise. It was a much better position with a prestigious company, offering not only a stable income but also significant prospects for growth and advancement. Logically, it was the choice she knew she should make.

She had been planning to accept the West Coast offer, convinced that it was the sensible decision, the one that aligned with her long-term goals. But the careful balance she had constructed began to tilt when her mother had casually mentioned that Conrad had just started his clinical rotations in New York. The revelation had struck her like a bolt of lightning.

Conrad. The name alone conjured a flood of memories and emotions, intertwining her past with her present in a way that was impossible to ignore. Despite the years and the distance, he remained a significant figure in her life, a piece of her heart that she couldn’t seem to let go of.

Belly took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met her friend’s eager gaze. “No, I haven’t made a decision yet,” she admitted, her voice soft yet resolute. “But I will, soon.”

*

She sighed, the weight of her introspection pressing heavily on her shoulders as she began to carefully place the photographs back in their box. The polaroids that hadn’t made their way to display went back to their home under the bed, tucked away for another day when she might need their comfort.

Her gaze wandered around her room, taking in the familiar surroundings that had become both a sanctuary and a reminder of her fractured identity. The bookshelves lined with well-worn volumes, the desk cluttered with notes and mementos, the walls adorned with posters and artwork – each item held a story, a moment in time that she yearned to fully reclaim.

As her eyes swept over her bedside table, they came to rest on a photo frame that she hadn’t noticed until now. It held a picture of her and Conrad, their faces lit with joy, captured in a moment of unguarded happiness. The sight of it made her heart ache with a mixture of longing and melancholy.

She moved towards the table, her steps slow and deliberate, and picked up the frame. The image of Conrad’s smiling face seemed to reach out to her, bridging the gap between past and present. She traced the outline of his features with her fingertip, feeling a rush of emotions – love, loss, hope and uncertainty – all colliding within her.

What could have possibly possessed her to place this photo, a stark reminder of their time as a couple, by her bedside?

*

Belly heaved the last box into her new apartment, the weight of it grounding her in the present moment. She set it down in her bedroom, pausing to catch her breath and survey the scene. The room was a blank canvas, its bare bones stark and impersonal. The walls were empty, the floor scattered with boxes, and the space felt hollow, waiting for her touch to transform it into a home.

As she stood amidst the chaos, the magnitude of the task ahead seemed overwhelming. Each box contained fragments of her life, pieces that would come together to create her new reality in New York. Determined to make a start, she began shifting through the boxes, searching for the one filled with photographs. It didn’t take long to find it, labelled in her careful handwriting.

Belly opened the box and began to pull out the photos, each one a small portal to a different time and place. She carefully placed a few on the mirror, their familiar faces bringing a sense of warmth and familiarity to the sterile room. More photos found their way to the walls and some to the dresser.

As she continued, her fingers brushed against the photo of her and Conrad, the same one she had found in her old room. She paused, holding it gently, the emotions it stirred as potent as ever.

She found an empty frame in another box and slid the photo inside, the act feeling both deliberate and significant. Moving to her bedside table, she placed the framed picture next to her lamp, Conrad’s smiling face now a part of her new beginning.

The act of positioning this photograph at her bedside was more than just a simple arrangement of décor; it was a deliberate acknowledgement of the past that continued to shape her present. It was an admission that, despite the passage of time and the changes life had wrought, Conrad still held a significant place in her heart. This small, personal ritual of framing his photograph was an act of embracing the parts of herself that were intertwined with him.

*

Feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, Belly knew she needed a distraction. With a determined sigh, she set the photo frame back on her bedside table and pushed herself off the edge of the bed. Padding softly across the familiar hardwood, she made her way to the haven of the kitchen.

The rhythmic sound of her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, a comforting cadence amidst the turmoil in her mind. As she reached the kitchen, she flicked on the soft overhead light, bathing the room in a gentle glow.

Belly moved with purpose, her movements methodical as she reached for the kettle and filled it with water. The simple act of preparing tea felt like a balm for her troubled soul, a ritual that offered both solace and distraction.

With a sense of detachment, Belly reached for a mug at random from the cupboard, her fingers brushing against the smooth ceramic surfaces until they settled on one adorned with the logo of a familiar coffee house chain. It was a relic of a forgotten morning pick-me-up, now relegated to the depths of her kitchen cabinet. She set it down on the countertop with a soft clink.

Next, she turned her attention to the task at hand, reaching for a tea bag from the neatly organised box on the shelf. Deciding on a calming chamomile blend. It’s delicate fragrance promising a momentary reprieve from the weight of her emotions.

As she dropped the tea bag into the waiting mug, the scent of chamomile mingled with the lingering aroma of forgotten coffees past, creating a strange but not entirely unwelcome juxtaposition. She leaned against the countertop, her thoughts drifting like wisps of steam rising from the kettle.

*

Belly didn’t know how she had ended up here. She had just gone out in search of a bagel, her stomach grumbling impatiently, and her feet had seemingly taken on a will of their own. But now, she found herself standing out the front of a hospital. The name of which hospital had been muttered in passing by her mother during their last conversation, a casual remark that had lingered in the back of Belly’s mind without much thought until now.

As she stood on the sidewalk, the bustling energy of the city faded into the background, replaced by a sense of quiet unease. The hospital loomed before her, its imposing façade a stark reminder of life’s fragility. Belly hesitated, her hand hovering uncertainly at her side as she debated whether to go inside.

She was never good at math, but she was sure the chances of him being in there at this moment in time were likely high. With a shaky exhale, Belly reached for her phone, her fingers hesitating over the screen. She should just call or text him, she knew, but for some reason, the idea seemed infinitely more daunting that just walking through those hospital doors.

In the end, she pocketed her phone and took a tentative step forward, her resolve firming with each passing moment. Whatever lay ahead, she knew she couldn’t keep standing on the sidelines, letting fear dictate her actions. With a final deep breath, Belly pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped into the sterile brightness of the hospital lobby, her heart pounding in her chest as she braced herself for whatever lay ahead.

She had barely taken a few strides in the direction of the peds ward when a familiar voice pierced through the sterile air behind her. Her heart leapt in her chest, a surge of conflicting emotions flooding her senses.

Slowly, she turned around, her stomach twisting with apprehension. But the sight that greeted her sent a sharp pang of disbelief coursing through her veins. There, standing arm in arm with another girl, was Conrad. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Belly struggled to make sense of the scene before her.

Her mind raced with a flurry of questions, each one more painful than the last. Who was this girl? How long had they been together? The weight of the truth settled heavy on her shoulders as she realised that whatever she had been expecting to find in the hospital, it wasn’t this.

As Conrad’s laughter echoed through the lobby, mingling with the softer tones of the girl by his side, Belly felt a surge of panic grip her heart. Without a second thought, she ducked behind a group of nurses who were engaged in animated conversation, their laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her.

Huddled in the shadows, Belly pressed herself against the cool wall, her breaths shallow and rapid as she strained to listen to the footsteps drawing closer. The sound of Conrad’s voice grew louder, his laughter a painful reminder of the life she had once known.

As they passed by, Belly held her breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she prayed they wouldn’t notice her presence. She dared not peek out from her hiding place, the fear of being discovered paralysing her in place.

The seconds stretched into an eternity as she waited, the sound of their footsteps gradually fading into the distance. Only when she was certain they were out of earshot did Belly allow herself to exhale, her body trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.

*

The sound of the kettle whistling broke her from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present with a sudden jolt. Belly blinked, momentarily disoriented as she realised she had been lost in a whirlwind of memories.

Shaking her head to clear away the remnants of her reverie, Belly focused on the task at hand. With a determined sigh, she reached for a nearby tea towel and wrapped it around the handle of the kettle, lifting it off the stove with careful precision. The steam billowed upward, enveloping her senses in a warm, comforting embrace as she poured the hot water into her waiting mug.

Belly wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into her bones as she took a slow, deliberate sip.

*

Belly was sprawled on the couch, her laughter echoing through the dimly lit living room as she held a half-empty bottle of wine in one hand. The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over her flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. She had lost track of time, lost in the haze of alcohol and laughter, until the sound of the front door opening brought her back to reality.

Anika stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in disbelief as she took in the scene before her. Belly’s laughter bubbled up anew at the sight of her roommate’s shocked expression, her amusement only intensifying as she struggled to sit up on the couch.

“Hey, Ani!” she greeted cheerfully, her words slightly slurred as she raised the bottle in greeting. “You’re home early!”

Anika’s shock quickly morphed into concern as she stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the scattered empty glasses and bottles that littered the coffee table. “Belly, are you… Are you drunk?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Belly’s laughter erupted once more at the question, her head falling back against the cushions as she shook with mirth. As her laughter finally subsided into a series of giggles, she attempted to sit up straight. “Drunk? No, just a lil tipsy is all,” she slurred, her words accompanied by a playful wink.

Anika’s worry only deepened at Belly’s dismissive response. She moved closer, perching herself on the edge of the couch, her brow furrowed with concern. “Belly, I think you’ve had enough,” she said gently, reaching out to gently pry the bottle from her roommate’s grasp.

Belly pouted momentarily, but her expression quickly morphed into a mischievous grin as she attempted to reach for her phone. Fingers fumbling clumsily, she let out an exasperated sigh as the device slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor with a loud thud. “Oops,” she giggled.

Her laughter faded into a hollow silence as she looked up at Anika, her eyes clouded with sadness. “Hold my phone for me?” she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of urgency as she gestured towards the device lying on the floor.

Anika nodded, a furrow of concern still etched into her brow as she reached down to retrieve the fallen phone. She held it out to Belly, watching carefully as her roommate squinted at the screen, fingers fumbling with the lock code.

With a triumphant sign, Belly finally managed to unlock the phone, her gaze fixed intently on the screen. “Okay, look,” she exclaimed, pointing at the phone for Anika to see.

Anika leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued as she peered at the screen. Her confusion deepened as she realised that Belly had opened Instagram, the feed populated with photos of a girl she didn’t recognise – a girl she was certain she had never seen before.

Belly’s voice broke through the silence, her tone oddly subdued as she scrolled through the images. “Do you think she’s pretty?” she asked quietly, her words laced with a hint of insecurity. “I mean, she’s definitely prettier than me, right?”

Her friends’ brows furrowed with confusion as she glanced at the unfamiliar photos on Belly’s phone. “She’s… yeah, she’s pretty,” Anika responded tentatively, her concern growing with each passing moment. “But who is she? I’ve never seen her before.”

Belly’s lips quivered slightly, her eyes downcast as she stared at the screen. The room was enveloped in an awkward silence, punctuated only by the soft hiccups escaping her lips.

Anika reached out to gently squeeze Belly’s hand, her voice soft with reassurance. “Hey, no one is prettier than you, Belly,” she said earnestly. “I’m shallow. I don’t have ugly friends.”

She remained quiet for a moment, her breathing hitching with each hiccup. Then, with a heavy sigh, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s… she’s Conrad’s girlfriend,” she admitted, her words tinged with bitterness.

Anika’s heart ached at the sight of her friend in such turmoil. Without hesitation, she pulled Belly into a comforting hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “I’m so sorry, Belly,” she whispered, her voice soft with empathy.

But Belly, overwhelmed by her emotions, broke free from the embrace. She collapsed back onto the sofa cushions, tears now streaming down her face. Her body shook with the force of her sobs.

“I thought… I don’t know what I thought,” Belly choked out between sobs. “I just didn’t expect he would have a girlfriend. I thought that, eventually, we would find our way back to each other. That no one else would come close to what we had.”

Anika sat beside her, reaching out, gently stroking Belly’s hair in a soothing gesture. “I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

Belly’s sobs began to subside, but the tears continued to flow, each one a testament to the depth of her heartache. She took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke again. “I don’t know how to move on from this, Ani. How do I let go of something that meant so much to me?”

“You don’t have to do it all at one, Bells. You can take it one day at a time.” Anika squeezed Belly’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile. She paused before continuing. “How about I make you a cup of tea?”

She nodded weakly, her tears still flowing. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” she whispered, her voice fragile and broken.

*

Belly walked with her mug in hand to the living room, each step measured and deliberate as she savoured the warmth of the tea. She settled onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and letting out a small sigh.

She reached for the remote and began flicking through the channels. She moved through a series of news broadcasts, sitcom reruns and commercials before finally landing on an episode of a trashy reality TV show. A hunt of a smile played at the corners of her lips as she recognised the familiar faces of the cast, their exaggerated antics providing a welcome escape from her own thoughts.

The scene on the screen shifted to a lively bar in New York, and Belly’s eyes widened in recognition. She leaned forward slightly, squinting to get a better look. The bar looked so familiar – the dim lighting, the layout, even the quirky decorations on the walls.

*

Belly walked into the bar, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was a cozy, dimly lit spot in New York, with exposed brick walls and soft jazz playing in the background. She had arrived a few minutes early, wanting to make a good impression on her first date with someone she had been chatting with online for a few weeks.

As she sat down, Belly took a moment to steady her nerves, smoothing her dress and checking her phone for any new messages. She glanced around, observing the other patrons and the warm, inviting atmosphere of the bar. It felt like the perfect place for a first date, intimate yet bustling with energy.

A few minutes later, she saw him walk in. He was tall, with a confident stride and a friendly smile that immediately put her at ease. He spotted her quickly and made his way over, giving her a quick hug before taking a seat across from her.

“Sorry if I’m a little late. Traffic was a nightmare,” he said, his smile never faltering.

“No worries at all,” she replied, returning his smile warmly.

He motioned to the bartender and ordered drinks for both of them. “I’ll have an Old Fashioned, and for the lady, a Negroni.”

Belly’s heart sank sightly. She wasn’t a fan of Negronis – too dry and bitter for her taste. But she forced a smile, deciding to go along with it. She didn’t want to make a fuss or seem difficult on their first date.

“Great choice,” she said, her voice cheerful despite her misgivings.

When the drinks arrived, she took a cautious sip, trying to hide her distaste as the strong, bitter flavours hit her tongue. She managed to keep her smile, though, hoping the evening would get better from here.

“So, beach or mountains?”

Belly’s face lit up at the question, her answer immediate and enthusiastic. “Beach, always. I grew up spending my summers at the beach. It’s my favourite place in the world.”

He pulled a face, his expression contorting into one of mild distaste. “Really? I hate the beach. Too sandy and crowded for my taste. I much prefer the mountains.”

Her heart sank at his admission. The beach was more than just a preference for her; it was a fundamental part of her identity, tied to countless cherished memories of summers spent in Cousins. The thought of him not understanding that aspect of her life made her chest tighten with disappointment.

“Oh,” she managed, her voice faltering slightly. “I guess everyone has their preferences.”

He nodded, oblivious to her discomfort. “Yeah, I mean, the mountains are just so peaceful. Hiking, fresh air, the views… it’s perfect.”

Belly tried to muster enthusiasm for his interests, but her thoughts were clouded with the realisation that he might never fully appreciate something so essential to her. She took another sip of her drink, the bitterness of the Negroni mirroring the sinking feeling in her heart.

She forced herself to smile and continue the conversation, but the connection she had hoped to feel seemed to slip further away with each word.

He kept talking, launching into a story about him and his buddies on spring break during his senior year. Belly listened, nodding politely and trying to maintain her smile, but her mind wandered. She tried to ask questions, to engage in the conversation, but he barely paused for breath, leaving her with no opportunity to speak.

“Yeah, so we were in Cancun,” he was saying, “and my buddy Dave thought it would be a great idea to sneak into this exclusive beach club. We got caught, of course, but not before Dave managed to –“

Belly’s attention drifted back to memories of Cousins. Memories of Conrad. The contrast between those cherished times and the current moment was stark and disheartening. She glanced down at her empty glass, the drinks bitter taste lingering unpleasantly on her tongue.

As he continued the story, she felt more disconnection. She watched his animated expressions and gesticulations, but it all seemed distant, like she was observing from behind a glass wall. Finally, he paused to take a breath and signalled the bartender for another round.

Seizing the opportunity, Belly forced a polite smile and excused herself. “I’ll be right back, I just need to use the restroom.”

He nodded absentmindedly, already shifting his focus to ordering the drinks. Belly slipped off the stool and walked towards the restroom, the weight of disappointment settling heavily in her chest. She needed a moment to collect herself, to escape the feeling of being trapped in a conversation that only highlighted their incompatibilities.

In the restroom, she leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths to steady herself. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, searching for the confident, happy person she had been at the start of the evening. But all she saw was someone struggling to reconcile her hopes with the reality of the date.

She splashed some water on her face, trying to clear her mind.

The entire point of this date was for Belly to move on from Conrad. She had been trying to put herself out there, to forge new connections, to follow in his footsteps and find a new home for her heart. It wasn’t exactly an easy process. Every step she took away from him felt like dragging her heart through a field of thorns. But she was determined.

This date represented more than just a night out; it was a symbolic gesture, a way to prove to herself that she could move on, that she could find happiness away from him. It just wasn’t working.

She thought about the way Conrad’s eyes would light up when he talked about something he was passionate about, the sound of his laughter blending with the crash of the waves, the warmth of his hand in hers as they walked along the beach. Those memories were a part of her, etched into her heart with a permanence that she couldn’t seem to erase.

Belly shook those thoughts away. She’d been in the bathroom long enough, lost in memories that only deepened her sense of longing. She couldn’t let this date, this opportunity to move forward, slip away completely.

She checked her makeup in the mirror, smoothing her hair and reapplying a touch of lipstick. She gave herself a small, encouraging nod, trying to summon the confidence she had felt when she first walked into the bar.

With one last glance at her reflection, Belly straightened her dress and turned to leave the restroom.

*

Belly quickly turned the TV off, the remote trembling slightly in her hand. The sudden silence in the room was almost deafening, but she needed it. She didn’t want to recall the rest of that terrible date.

Her head was spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions and fragmented images, and she needed it all to stop for a moment. She placed the remote on the coffee table with deliberate care, as if the action itself could bring some semblance of order to her turmoil. Leaning back into the couch, she closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, hoping to calm the storm inside her.

Each breath in, each breath out, she tried to let go of the tension that had coiled tightly in her chest. She visualised a peaceful place, somewhere far away from the memories that haunted her – a serene beach, the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore, the warmth of the sun on her skin. But the images of her past kept intruding, like dark clouds obscuring her calm.

Desperation clawed at her. She pressed her palms against her eyes, as if she could physically block out the memories. She needed a way to break free, to find a moment of respite from the relentless barrage of thoughts.

Her gaze fell on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. Maybe a book could offer the escape she was so desperately seeking. She pushed herself off the couch and walked over, her fingers trailing along the spines of the books, searching for one that could transport her to another world, if only for a little while.

Over the next few days, more memories came back to her, trickling in as she went about her daily routine. A simple song on the radio would suddenly transport her back to a specific moment in time, a smile or a frown from a stranger would spark a recollection of a long-forgotten interaction. The triggers became simpler, almost mundane, yet they carried with them the weight of entire chapters of her life.

At night, the memories would flood her dreams, turning them into a chaotic montage of faces, places and emotions. Sleep no longer held the promise of refuge; instead, it left her more exhausted than she had been the night before.

With each memory that resurfaced, Belly found herself navigating a labyrinth of emotions, no longer shielded by the blissful veil of ignorance. The pieces of her past had fallen into place, painting a vivid picture of her life before the accident. Who she was, and why she was that way – these questions found their answers in the fragments of her memories.

But it did nothing to settle her confusion. If anything, the surfaced memories only seemed to deepen it.

It was becoming increasingly clear to Belly that she had never truly been able to let go of Conrad, no matter how many years had passed. His presence loomed over her life, influencing her every action, her every decision. All she had to do was look out of her window to be reminded of that fact.

She turned her gaze towards the window, now. The street was flanked by rows of historic brownstones, their elegant facades adorned with intricate details. The morning light bathed the weathered brick exteriors in a warm glow, highlighting the rich hues of red, brown and beige. There, in the window directly across from hers, lay a familiar looking tabby cat, basking in the sun’s rays.

Her mind wandered back to Conrad at the sight, as it so often did these days.

For years, she had lived within these walls, created countless memories within their confines. And yet, everywhere she turned, she was only reminded of him – of his laughter echoing off the walls, his presence lingering in the shadows. The whispers of conversations they had shared still resonated within the very fabric of the space.

Belly had wanted space, craved it desperately in the aftermath of their last encounter. But now that space felt suffocating, oppressive in its emptiness.

She could text him, she knew that. The words were there, waiting to spill out onto the screen, a desperate plea for forgiveness and understanding. But a heavy weight settled in her chest as she hesitated, her mind flooded with doubts and insecurities.

Would he even want to hear from her after everything? After the hurtful words she had spoken, the accusations she had hurled in a moment of confusion and pain? Conrad had stayed by her side throughout her recovery, a constant presence in her life when everything else seemed uncertain. And yet, she had repaid his loyalty with betrayal, calling him a liar in a fit of anger and frustration.

Regret gnawed at her as she replayed the scene in her mind. She remembered the way Conrad had looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection. She recalled the warmth of his hand on hers, the softness in his voice as he spoke to her. And yet, despite everything, she had pushed him away again, possibly for the last time.

It all felt so distant now – the raw emotions that had dictated her words and actions.

With a frustrated growl, she flung her phone to the end of the bed, its screen illuminating the room for a fleeting moment before fading to darkness once more. She wouldn’t text him. She wouldn’t burden him any longer.

Turning over onto her front, Belly buried her face in the pillow and screamed.

Anika pulled the covers off of Belly, her tone firm. “You need to get out of bed, Belly. You can’t stay hidden away here forever.”

Belly groaned and yanked the covers back over her head. “Nope. I’m never leaving this bed. Let me rot away.”

Anika fell silent for a few moments, and Belly hoped, perhaps naively, that her friend would let her be. But they she felt the mattress dip beside her. “Belly, I’m worried about you.”

One more, the room filled with silence. Then, Belly tentatively peeked out from behind the covers, locking eyes with her friend. In her gaze lay a raw vulnerability, a hint of the turmoil churning within her. Summoning her courage, she took a deep breath, reading to bare her soul. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that I still loved him?”

“And how well would you have taken that news?”

Belly sat up, running her fingers through her hair as she pondered the question. “About as well as I’m taking it now,” she replied with a resigned sigh.

Anika’s leaned back slightly, a hint of an “I told you so” tone in her voice. “Besides, I told you not to count him out,” she remarked, her words teasing yet pointed

Belly shot her friend with a playful glare before grabbing a nearby pillow and lightly swatting her with it. “Yeah, after I’d already ruined things! What good did it do me then?” she retorted.

The tension in the room dissolved as they both erupted into laughter, the weight of Belly’s troubles momentarily forgotten.  

Anika, sensing Belly’s vulnerability, scooted closer, wrapping her arms around her friend in a comforting embrace. “You haven’t ruined things, Belly,” she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Belly let out a snort of disbelief. “Sure, I haven’t,” she replied sarcastically, a hint of self-depreciation in her tone. “And that’s why he hasn’t texted me even once during the past few days.”

A sigh escaped Anika’s lips, her brows furrowing in frustration.

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she began to playfully call him names, her words exaggerated for effect. “He’s a poo poo head, anyway,” she declared with mock seriousness.

Belly couldn’t help but burst into laughter at Anika’s antics, the absurdity of the situation breaking through her sadness. “Poo poo head?” she repeated between giggles, shaking her head in disbelief.

But Anika wasn’t done yet. With a theatrical flourish, she continued her exaggerated insults, each one more ridiculous than the last. And despite herself, Belly found herself laughing harder than she had in days.

“Dorky McDorkface!”

“Monkey Butt!”

“Booger Breath!”

The barrage of insults continued until Belly’s laughter reached a crescendo, causing her to lose her balance and tumble off the bed with a thud.

Anika’s amusement immediately turned to concern as she rushed to the edge of the bed, worry etched on her face. But all she found was Belly, still giggling uncontrollably, sprawled on the floor.

“Well, this wasn’t how I expected to get you out of bed, but it’ll do, I guess,” Anika said with a chuckle, relief evident in her voice.

She offered out her hand, and Belly took it.

The morning of her hospital check in dawned, and Belly found herself consumed with nerves. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed her hair, and her reflection in the mirror revealed wide, anxious eyes. She tried to focus on the routine task of getting ready, but her mind kept wandering to a far more daunting concern.

Conrad. She was going back to the hospital where he worked. The mere thought sent her heart racing. What if she bumped into him? What would she say?

The entire subway journey, her stomach churned with anticipation. Memories of Conrad flooded her thoughts – the harsh words she had flung at him, the way she had lashed out in her confusion and pain. She wasn’t sure she could bear to see that sadness in his eyes again, a sadness she had put there.

Belly clutched her bag tightly, her knuckles white, as she approached the hospital entrance. Each step felt heavier than the last, her feet dragging as if they, too, were reluctant to face the potential encounter. She rehearsed possible conversations in her head, but none of them seemed right. There were no words that could make this right, Belly knew that much.

Yet, despite that, a part of her secretly hoped she would see him. That he would take her in his arms and tell her all was forgiven. So, as she walked through the bustling lobby, she scanned the faces around her, half-hoping and half-dreading that one of them would be Conrad’s.

But he wasn’t in the lobby.

He wasn’t in the elevator.

And he wasn’t in the waiting room.

By the time the doctor called out her name, she was awash with dejection, her shoulders slumped and her gaze distant. She followed him mechanically, barely engaging in his small talk as they walked to the consultation room.

As she approached the threshold, Belly paused. There, seated just inside the doorway, was Conrad. At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes – surely, it was just her mind playing tricks on her, conjuring up his image from her deepest desires. She blinked, trying to dispel the illusion, but he remained, solid and real before her.

The doctor’s greeting to Conrad shattered any hope that this was a mere figment of her imagination. Reality crashed down upon her with the force of a tidal wave. He was really there, in the same room as her.

Their proximity sent a jolt of electricity through her veins.

As Belly settled into her seat, she couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. Despite the chasm that had formed between them, there was a flicker of something familiar in Conrad’s demeanour – a vulnerability that mirrored her own. Was he feeling as nervous as she was?

“Have you been experiencing any headaches, Isabel?”

Belly hesitated at the doctor’s question. This whole situation had been a headache, both figuratively and, at times, quite literally. But she wasn’t a doctor herself, so who was she to definitively say whether her headaches were or weren’t related to her accident?

Her gaze unconsciously flickered towards Conrad, his presence imbuing her with unexpected strength. Drawing a deep breath, Belly forced herself to weigh her words carefully before responding. “Yes, occasionally.”

As Belly uttered her response, her attention momentarily drifted towards Conrad, her peripheral vision catching the subtle movement of his fingers flexing in his lap. In that moment, she found herself wishing for something she knew was impossible – for him to reach over and hold her hand.

But then the doctor was asking her another question, this one more loaded than the last.

Conrad knew that she had recalled some memories, that wasn’t a secret. What he didn’t know was the extent to which her memories had returned – the flood of emotions and revelations that had washed over her in the recent week.

For the first time since entering the room, she wished he wasn’t seated beside her.

“Yes,” she replied, “My memories have come back.”

The doctor continued with his examination, but Belly’s attention wavered, her focus split between the physician’s inquiries and the silent tension that hung heavy in the air between her and Conrad. He hadn’t spoken a word since her admission.

She searched his stoic expression for any hint of his true feelings. But his features remained impassive, betraying nothing of what lay beneath the surface.

Before she knew it, they were alone in the room.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” she replied, unable to meet his gaze.

As she searched for the right words, she found herself tongue-tied, unable to articulate the swirling tempest of emotions that raged within her. She wanted to say more, to pour out her heart and lay bare the depths of her soul. But fear held her back.

“It’s great,” he began. “It’s great that you’ve got your memories back.”

His words pulled at something within her, coaxing Belly to meet his gaze. As her eyes locked with his, she searched his expression for any sign of resentment of anger, bracing herself for the inevitable backlash. But, to her surprise, his features remained surprisingly soft, his eyes filled with a warmth that she hadn’t dared to hope for.

A flicker of relief washed over Belly as she realised that Conrad didn’t seem mad at her. The tension that had gripped her chest loosened slightly, replaced by a cautious glimmer of hope.

With a tentative smile, Belly nodded in agreement, her heart swelling with a newfound sense of optimism. “Yeah,” she started, “It’s… it’s been a lot to process.”

Conrad nodded, an unconscious mirroring of Belly’s own tentative movements. “I can’t imagine,” he said softly, “But I’m here for you, Belly. Whatever you need.”

A soft laugh bubbled up from deep within her chest, an unexpected release of tension that left her feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Anika had been right all along – she hadn’t lost him.

“Thank you, Conrad,” she said with confidence, “I know you are.”

A palpable shift in the energy of the room swept over them, washing away the lingering tension that had hung heavy in the air moments before.

Conrad’s voice broke the silence, his tone dripping with sincerity. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he added, “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Guilt gnawed at the edges of her consciousness, a reminder of the pain she had inadvertently caused him. Yet, amidst the tumult of conflicting feelings, one emotion rose above the rest

Her gaze softened, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I know,” she admitted. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

She couldn’t take those words back now, nor did she want to.  

Belly had been given multiple chances with him in the past – more than she deserved, she admitted to herself. But she wouldn’t let fear or insecurity sabotage what they were rebuilding. She wouldn’t mess up again.

The warmth of his hand atop hers broke her from her thoughts, grounding her firmly in the present moment. Her worries melting away. With a soft smile, she turned her hand, intertwining their fingers.

Chapter Text

They sat in silence for a few beats, the warmth of their connection radiating between them.

Belly stared at their intertwined hands, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles, careful not to startle him. She wished they could stay in this moment forever, cocooned in its quiet simplicity, where everything felt right for once. Her heart whispering a silent plea: Please let this be the start of something real.

But she knew they still had so much to talk about.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?” she asked softly, her voice tentative, as though afraid the moment would shatter if she spoke too loudly.

Conrad hesitated, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face before he spoke. “I – I’d love to,” he began, his tone genuinely apologetic, “but I’m in the middle of my shift. I really have to get back to work.”

“Oh, right. Of course,” Belly replied quickly, her cheeks flushing as she withdrew her hand.

Conrad shifted slightly in his chair, leaning forward. His eyes searched hers, full of something she couldn’t quite name – hope? Concern? “But… are we okay?” he asked hesitantly, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain.

Belly nodded, the motion stiff and a little too quick. “Yeah,” she said, though the word felt inadequate. “We’re okay.”

She started to speak again, her voice faltering as she tried to find the right words. “Conrad, I –“ 

Before she could finish, the sharp beep of his pager interrupted them. Conrad sighed, glancing down at it with a mix of frustration and resignation. “I’m sorry. I really have to go,” he said, rising to his feet.

Belly managed a small, understanding smile, even as disappointment settled heavy in her chest. “Yeah, of course. Go. Duty calls.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if there was more he wanted to say, but then he gave her a brief nod and disappeared through the door, leaving her alone in the sterile, quiet room.

She stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the closed door. Her shoulders sagged as she let out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah, cool,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with frustration. “Great job, Belly.”

Her roommate was stationed at the dining table, her laptop open and a half-empty mug of coffee beside it. But the moment Anika heard the front door click shut, she abandoned her screen entirely, swivelling around in her chair with an expectant look.

“Well?” she asked, abandoning any pretence of work as Belly dropped her bag by the couch. “How’d it go?”

Belly shrugged, toeing off her shoes as she shuffled into the room. “The appointment was fine. Nothing major,” she began, her tone purposefully casual. But the second she met her friend’s eyes, she knew there was no avoiding the real truth. “Conrad was there.”

Anika’s brows shot up, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Conrad?” she repeated, dragging he name out like she was savouring it. “Do go on.”

Belly plopped down in the chair across from her, groaning. “He was waiting in the consultation room when I walked in. I thought I was imagining him at first. But, yeah, he was there.”

Anika’s couldn’t hide the gleam in her eye as she leaned her elbows on the table, her chin propped in her hands. “And?” she prompted.

Belly rolled her eyes, already anticipating where this was headed. “And nothing. We barely talked. He had to go back to work.”

But her friend wasn’t going to let her off that easily. She straightened up, her tone playful but pointed. “Oh, Belly, you’ve totally ruined things,” she teased, her tone a dramatic echo of their previous conversation. “There’s no coming back from this,” she added, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead as if fainting from the melodrama.

Belly rolled her eyes. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, throwing a crumpled napkin in Anika’s direction.

Anika dodged it easily, grinning wider. “I’m just saying,” she teased, smirking now. “Doesn’t sound so ‘ruined’ to me.”

“Ugh, don’t start,” Belly muttered, burying her face in her hands. But despite herself, she couldn’t stop a small, reluctant smile from creeping onto her lips.

Conrad leaned back against the counter in the staff lounge, a rare moment of stillness amidst the chaos of his shift. His mind wasn’t on the stack of charts he still needed to review of the patient awaiting a consult in Room 312. Instead, it was stuck on Belly.

She’d said they were okay.

He replayed the moment in his head for the hundredth time, the way her voice had softened when she answered. The tension that had hovered between them for too long – it wasn’t gone, not entirely, but it had eased. And that alone was enough to send a rush of relief through him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out eagerly, his pulse quickening. But it wasn’t Belly. Just a group text from a colleague about shift schedules. He sighed, locking the screen, but his thumb hovered over the message app.

Should I text her first? Or is that too much?

“Doctor!” someone called from the hallway, snapping him out of his thoughts. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed towards the commotion, forcing his focus back to the present.

But even as he went about his shift – examining a patient’s vitals or discussing treatment plan – part of him kept drifting back. Every time he reached into his pocket to check the time, his heart would leap, hoping to find a message waiting for him.

Later, during a lull, he found himself lingering at his locker under the guise of reorganising his things. His phone was in his hand again, the blank text field staring back at him. He typed, deleted, retyped.

“Hey, hope the rest of your day went okay. 😊”

He frowned. Was the smiley face too much? Would she read into it? Conrad groaned under his breath, shaking his head at himself. Since when did texting Belly make him feel like a nervous teenager again?

He stared at the screen for a moment longer, feeling the pressure of his own hesitation. Finally, with a deep breath, he pressed send.

The moment the message was sent, his nerves flared. Was he being too pushy? Should he have given her more space to come to him, instead of rushing in like this? A sense of doubt crept in, and for a split second, he regretted not waiting – wondered if he’d misread things, if he was overstepping.

He was about to put his phone away when the screen lit up again.

A message from Belly: “It went well. Thanks for asking 😊 How’s your shift going?”

Conrad’s heart gave a little leap. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he quickly typed his reply.

“Busy, but good. Just trying to get through it, you know? What have you been up to this afternoon?”

He wasn’t looking where he was going as he walked back onto the ward, the words on his phone all-consuming. He bumped into a nurse as he rounded a corner, his phone nearly slipping out of his hand. 

“Hey, you good there, Con?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his distracted state.

“Yeah, yeah, just… got a lot on my mind,” Conrad muttered, quickly shoving the phone back into his pocket.

*

He tried to focus on his next patients, but the rhythm of the day felt off now. Every few minutes, his thumb would subconsciously hover over his pocket, his heart quickening with anticipation.

Later, when he found himself reviewing a chart, Conrad couldn’t resist the pull to check his phone again. He glanced at the screen when no one was looking, seeing a new message from Belly.

“Honestly, I’m about to murder Anika. She’s been teasing me non-stop ever since I got home. Nowhere in this apartment is safe.”

A rush of warmth spread through him. He quickly typed back.

“What’s she teasing you about?”

“If the cops come after you, you can always crash at my place. I’ll hide you from the authorities”

He stared at the words for a second, then hit send. As soon as the message was gone, he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

*

By the time he finished with his rounds, his shift was almost over, but the anticipation of hearing back from her kept him going. He barely noticed the time slipping away. Each text from Belly was a brief but welcome escape.

He was on the way to wrap up the last of his tasks when he pulled his phone out one last time, hoping for another message. His screen lit up with Belly’s reply:

“My my, Conrad Fisher. Harbouring criminals? Whatever would your parents think.”

With that, the smile that had been growing on his face all day finally spread fully across his features. He didn’t care if it was just a few texts; this was the start of something good.

But before he could reply, his pager went off, pulling him back into work. He was about to slip his phone into his pocket, but then he stopped. His fingers hovered for a moment before he typed quickly.

“You know they’d probably be proud of me. We could be the next Bonnie and Clyde.”

Conrad was exhausted. His shift had drained him – hours of patients, paperwork, and non-stop action – but as he lay in the small on-call room, his eyes wide open, sleep felt miles away. The bed was too small, the sheets too stiff, and all he could focus on was the soft glow of his phone screen as he texted Belly.

Every message she sent made him smile, even it was something as simple as a recount of her ongoing battle with Anika. Her humour, her voice, even in text, was a balm to the tiredness in his bones.

“Anika is literally planning my demise. I might have to flee the country,” Belly texted, a few minutes after Conrad had sent his last message.

He snorted quietly, tapping out a reply.

“International fugitive? I could help you with that. I know some pretty shady people. *Cough* Not that I’d ever need those connections… just hypothetically.”

Conrad giggled audibly, but as soon as the sound left his lips, he froze. The room was silent for a moment. Then, a muffled voice came from the bunk across the room.

“Conrad, seriously?” Dr Matthews grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “Some of us are trying to sleep here, you know.”

He winced, his face flushing. He hasn’t realised how loud he’d gotten. He lowered his phone slightly, but his grin didn’t fade. “Sorry, Matt. I’ll be quieter,” he whispered, feeling a little like a guilty schoolboy caught laughing at a joke in class.

Matthews groaned in response, rolling over to face the wall. “Just tell her goodnight already and get some sleep. You’re keeping me up with all your giggling, like a teenager.”

Conrad’s grin grew wider despite himself. He typed quickly to Belly, “You’ve got me giggling like a fool. You’re going to get me in trouble.”

He hit send before turning his attention back to the other side of the room, where Dr Matthews had resumed his snoring.

Even if he was tired, even if the hospital had been gruelling, it felt good to be distracted like this – by Belly, by the possibility of something more than just a late-night text exchange. He glanced at the screen again, waiting for her response, unable to shake the lightness in his chest.

He couldn’t help it. He was a goner.

Belly woke up, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through her window. She should have felt more exhausted, considering how late she’d stayed up texting with Conrad. Her body ached for the comfort of sleep, but when she opened her eyes, she didn’t feel the heaviness she expected. In fact, she felt… lighter.

The weight of yesterday, the uncertainty, the awkwardness that had haunted her thoughts for days, had somehow disappeared. She didn’t feel as tangled up in her emotions anymore, like the puzzle pieces of her mind had finally started to fall into place. She could almost hear Conrad’s laugh in her head, the light teasing, the way he made her feel seen, even through a phone screen.

It was the Conrad effect.

She smiled to herself, her fingers already reaching for her phone. A text from him greeted her.

“Good morning, international fugitive. Any updates on your escape plans?” the message read, following by a smiley face and a wink emoji.

She sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She really should be more tired. She’d been exhausted the night before. But instead, she felt a warmth in her chest, a kind of lightness that made it hard to believe the tension and worry had ever been there.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just them. Whatever it was, it felt good. It felt like something worth holding onto.

“Escape plans are in the works. Just gotta get past Anika’s interrogation first,” she texted back, her fingers moving quickly over the screen.

As she hit send, a laugh bubbled up in her chest, and for the first time in days, she felt like maybe – just maybe – everything was going to be okay.

She was sat cross-legged on her bed, phone pressed to her ear as she twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly. Taylor’s voice crackled through the speaker, her tone flat.

“Are you sure about this, Bells?”

Belly let out a long, deep breath. “I’m sure. I want to be with Conrad again,” she said resolvedly, her words hanging in the air. It felt almost surreal, admitting it out loud. She’d spent so much time dancing around the idea, questioning whether she was crazy or if she was simply letting her emotions cloud her judgement. But now that she said it, there was a certainty in her chest, like a weight had been lifted. “I’m going to ask him out, on a date.”

Taylor grunted in response, a sound that told Belly everything she needed to know. The hesitation. The doubt. The unspoken “I told you so” that was hanging on the tip of her friend’s tongue.

“I don’t know, Belly. He’s hurt you before. What if it doesn’t work out again?” Taylor’s voice was filled with concern, but it also carried a slight edge, like she was preparing for a fight.

Belly’s pulse quickened, irritation sparking in her chest. “I’m an adult,” she said, her tone firmer now. “I know what I’m doing. I get that you’re trying to look out for me, but this is my choice. I don’t need you to protect me from this.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and for a second, Belly wondered if Taylor was going to argue more. But instead, her friend let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine,” Taylor finally said, her voice softening a little. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”

Belly shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve got this. I know what I want. And I want Conrad.”

Taylor didn’t respond right away, but after a beat, she gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, okay, whatever. Just don’t come crying to me if it all falls apart again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She hung up the phone, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She could already imagine what it would feel like to have that conversation with Conrad, to ask him out and see what would happen. 

Belly took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was it. She was doing it.

Conrad stood by his car in the parking lot, his mind still wrapped in a haze of contentment from the day. His phone was in his hand, and he couldn’t help but smile at the latest message from Belly. The way she’d signed off – “Interpol’s most wanted, Over and Out.” – sent a flutter through his chest. 

“Someone’s got a big grin on his face,” Agnes teased, walking toward him with a knowing look.

He blushed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right.” Agnes raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. “And it has nothing to do with Belly?”

Conrad let out a self-deprecating laugh, trying to brush it off. “Maybe,” he admitted. 

Her eyes twinkled. “So, when’s the big date? I’m assuming you’ve got one planned.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a little bashful. “Actually, I’m… thinking about it.”

Agnes tilted her head, her laughter turning into a playful smirk. “Well, just let me know when you two are official,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “In the meantime, are you coming to Caleb’s party on Friday?”

Conrad hesitated for a moment, unsure. He wasn’t working that weekend. But parties were hardly his scene, not anymore, and especially not when they were full of people he barely knew.

“I don’t know…”

Agnes rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on, Con! You can’t just sit at home staring at your phone all weekend. You can bring your girlfriend if you must,” she teased, emphasizing the word “girlfriend” with a grin. “Just come, it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

The idea of asking Belly to be his date to a party was… intimidating, to say the least. He’d imagined spending time with her again in a quieter, more relaxed setting, where they could talk without the chaos of the hospital or the noise of a party crowd. But Agnes was right – he had no reason to shy away from it. He didn’t want to overthink it.

He scratched his chin, mulling over the idea.

Agnes, sensing his hesitation, grinned wider. “You know,” she began, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her arm, “I’m just looking for an opportunity to get to know the girl who’s held my friend’s heart captive all these years. Need to determine for myself whether she’s good enough for you.” 

Conrad rolled his eyes with a smile. “Well, when you put it that way…” He let out a small chuckle, his mind already picturing how the evening might go. “I’ll think about it. But no promises.”

She grinned triumphantly. “Good. I’ll be there with bells on, waiting for an official introduction” she teased, nudging him again before walking away.

Conrad stood there for a moment, looking down at his phone, still feeling the warmth of Belly’s message in his chest. The thought of asking her to the party didn’t feel as intimidating now. 

Belly had been chickening out all day. 

Every time she picked up her phone, her fingers hovered over the screen, ready to type something – anything – yet every time, the words felt wrong. Too much, too little, not quite right. So, she’d delete them, close the app, and abandon the phone like it was ticking time bomb.

She had tried to distract herself by going for a walk around the block, the cool evening air doing little to calm the nervous energy that buzzed under her skin. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if she was reading too much into things? Every possible scenario looped in her head, making her second-guess herself.

She returned home, almost relieved to be inside, but as she entered her bedroom, her gaze immediately landed on her phone. It lay on the bed, staring at her, mocking her hesitation from its perch on the comforter. 

“I’m not a fucking chicken.”

Belly muttered the words under her breath as if they might somehow give her the courage she needed. Without another thought, she grabbed her phone, her fingers gripping it with a mix of frustration and determination. This was ridiculous. She could do this. She had faced many things in her life that were far scarier than this moment right now.

Her fingers moved with a sense of urgency, almost as if they had a mind of their own, quickly typing out the first line that came to her. “Do you know if fugitives get to date?” She stared at it, the words sitting on the screen like a weight.

A nervous laugh bubbled up in her chest, and she immediately reached for the backspace key, erasing the last word.

Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before she typed again, more carefully this time. “Do you know if fugitives get to have much of a social life?”

It was better, she thought. Less bold. But still enough to show that she was trying, that she wasn’t shying away. She glanced over the message, once, twice, her heart thudding against her ribcage. And then, with a deep breath, she pressed send.

Oh god.

She hadn’t thought this far ahead. What if Conrad was working? What if she ended up waiting hours for a response? 

Her stomach twisted with an anxious knot, the familiar sense of dread creeping in, spreading like a cold wave through her chest. The second ticked by slowly, unbearable, as she waited, her pulse hammering in her ears.

What if he didn’t reply at all?

The anxiety bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over, and for a moment, she regretted pressing send.  Why had she done it?

The phone remained silent.

She started pacing around her room, running her fingers through her hair, trying to distract herself from the uncomfortable feeling that was clawing at her chest. She half-expected the phone to mock her with its silence. Her mind spun with all the possibilities – scenarios where Conrad didn’t reply, where he was too busy, where he didn’t feel the same way she did.

Then, just as she thought she might collapse into a spiral of self-doubt, her phone vibrated in her hand. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She froze, staring at the screen as the notification popped up.

Conrad: “Well, I suppose fugitives do get to have some fun sometimes.”

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, the tension instantly easing from her shoulders. Her hand, which had been trembling only moments before, now felt steady, her heart no longer racing in panic.

It was okay. It was more than okay. It was a response. And it was good.

Belly grinned, her chest lighter than it had been all day. All that anxiety, all that worry, had been for nothing. 

She started typing her reply.

Conrad hadn’t decided yet whether or not he was going to invite Belly to Caleb’s party that weekend. He was still weighing it, unsure if she would even want to come, or if she’d be interested in something like that at all. Maybe she wasn’t a party person now, either. The uncertainty made him avoid texting her. He didn’t want to seem like he was overthinking things, but, well, he was. A lot.

Since he had gotten home from work, he’d been trying to distract himself. He had started cleaning, moving aimlessly from one task to the next – folding laundry, wiping down counters, rearranging his books – but his heart wasn’t really in it. His mind kept drifting back to Belly.

He was halfway through rinsing a mug when his phone buzzed on the counter, and Conrad almost fumbled it in his rush to check the notification. His eyes scanned the text quickly, and his heart did a little flip when he saw it was from her.

“Do you know if fugitives get to have much of a social life?”

Conrad couldn’t help but smile, his lips curling into a grin before he could stop himself. The words were playful, but he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by them. Was this a joke? A line? He didn’t want to assume anything – maybe she was just being cheeky.

He wiped his hands on a towel, his fingers itching to type something back, but his mind raced with possibilities. Was this her way of asking if they could hang out?

His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he considered his response. He could just keep it light, play along, but there was that lingering question: What was she really trying to say?

Instead of diving into an assumption, he decided to keep it simple, at least for now. 

“Well, I suppose fugitives do get to have some fun sometimes.”

Conrad hit send, letting the words sit on the screen for a moment before he abandoned his previous task. The mug was forgotten, left in the sink as he walking over to the cough. He sat down, sinking into the cushions, his phone still gripped tightly in his hand. 

His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest as he watched the bubbles pop up, then disappear, then reappear – Belly typing, deleting, thinking.

The seconds ticked by, each moment stretching a little longer, his curiosity growing. 

Finally, the message came through. He read it twice, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

Belly: “Are you willing to risk aiding and abetting a criminal, and hang out with me this weekend? Maybe we could get dinner together, on Friday?”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he read the message, the mix of excitement and relief washing over him. She was asking him to hang out. Maybe more than that. His mind raced, but it wasn’t the frantic kind of overthinking anymore.

He quickly typed back, still grinning to himself.

“Well, funnily enough, I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come to a party with me this weekend. It’s my friend Caleb’s birthday, and I’m sure it’d be more fun if you were there. What do you think?”

He pressed send before he could second-guess himself. It wasn’t like he was asking her to be his plus-one to a formal event or anything – just a laid-back gathering of friends. He was genuinely hoping that she would say yes.

Conrad sat his phone down, staring at the blank screen for a moment, the silence suddenly feeling too loud. A knot of nerves began to form in his stomach. What if she thought it was too much? What if she wasn’t ready for something like this? Maybe it was too soon to ask her to hang out in a social setting like that. Maybe she’d prefer a quieter date. Or worse, maybe she’d think he was rushing things.

The minutes stretched out longer than he’d like to admit, and he found himself picking up his phone again. He checked his messages – no reply from Belly.

His nerves bubbled up again, and before he could talk himself out of it, his fingers were typing once more.

“Actually,” he added, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, “you should bring Anika along. I’m sure she’d make it more interesting. If she’s lucky enough to make it to Friday, that is.”

Conrad stared at the screen, biting his lip as he waited for the bubbles to pop up. Should he have just left it at the first message? 

Just as he was about to put the phone down and force himself to do something – anything – to distract himself, his phone buzzed in his hand.

He quickly unlocked it, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the name on the screen: Belly.

“We’re in.”

Friday couldn’t come quick enough for Belly. All week, she had been counting down the days, her thoughts drifting to Conrad with every spare moment. The excitement was there, but so was the anxiety.

She glanced at the clock, realising she had barely an hour to get ready. The butterflies in her stomach felt like a storm as she stood in front of her mirror, trying on outfit after outfit, each one feeling wrong. One was too casual, another too dressy. Her fingers ran through her hair, and she caught a glimpse of herself – too much, too little, never just right. She pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside, again, frustrated at her indecision.

Anika, ever the supportive best friend, sat on the bed watching her, the look in her eyes somewhere between amusement and genuine concern. “You look beautiful,” she said, breaking the silence with her steady confidence. “Stop stressing.”

Belly shot her a doubtful look. “I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered, holding up another dress to her body, then shaking her head. “Nothing looks right.”

Anika chuckled and shook her head. “You look good in everything. Trust me.”

But Belly wasn’t convinced. She’d gone through half of her closet already, and nothing felt like it would work. The more she tried, the more she felt like nothing could match the weight of what was on the line tonight – seeing Conrad again, after all their late-night texts, after all their flirting. Or, her flirting. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of indecision, Belly stood still for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror. Her heart raced, and then, as if the decision had already been made for her, she grabbed a simple blouse and paired it with jeans. It was comfortable, easy, and something she felt confident it. 

But it was her necklace that she knew she couldn’t forget. The one with the infinity symbol that Conrad had given her. She’d kept it hidden for so long, but tonight, it felt like the right time to wear it. 

She let the necklace slip over her head, feeling its cool weight settle against her skin.

Anika gave her an approving smile. “Now you’re ready.”

Conrad was a bundle of nerves. It was ridiculous, really – he’d faced down surgical procedures, handled emergencies, and managed complicated patient cases, but none of that seemed to matter now. Tonight, with Belly, was different.

So, as he pulled into a parking space in front of her building, he realised he had arrived nearly thirty minutes early. It seemed like a good idea at the time – better to be early than late – but now it only gave him more time to sit in his car, anxiously fiddling with the steering wheel. 

When the clock finally hit seven, he took a deep breath, pushing over the car door, and walked to the entrance of the building. He tried to push down his nerves as he climbed the stairs, but with every step, they grew. By the time he reached her door, he was nearly shaking, but there was no going back now.

He knocked twice, his heart hammering in his chest.

A moment later, the door swung open, and there stood Anika, a smile on her face. “Conrad’s here,” she called out into the apartment, alerting Belly of his arrival.

He gave her a nervous smile, about to say something when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Belly step into the room.

Belly looked… stunning. More than that, though. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room, her hair falling in soft waves around her face. The way the light caught her features made his breath hitch.

For a brief moment, he lost his voice. His throat tightened as he stared at her, unable to find the words. He was completely speechless.

It took a couple of seconds for him to gather himself. He cleared his throat, mentally shaking himself out of his daze, and managed to say, “Hi, uh, hey to both of you. You look… great,” he said to Belly, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. His words came out more awkward than he’d intended. “Ready?”

Anika shot him a knowing look, her lips curling into a teasing smile. Conrad could practically hear her thinking, I know exactly what you’re thinking.

He shifted his weight nervously, his fingers still clutched tightly around his keys. 

Belly, on the other hand, seeming oblivious to the silent teasing. She smiled warmly at Conrad, her cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “Thanks,” she said softly, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Her voice was a little breathless, as if she wasn’t sure how to respond to the way Conrad had looked at her. 

Anika, clearly enjoying the dynamic between then, nudged her friend with her elbow as she grabbed her purse from the counter. “You ready to go?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. Belly nodded quickly, and the two girls headed towards the door. 

“Let’s go, beautiful. We don’t want to keep Mr Nervous waiting.”

They arrived at the party, the pulsing beat of music spilling out from the open door as they stepped into the lively atmosphere. People were scattered around, laughing and talking, some dancing, others standing with drinks in hand. Conrad held the door open for Belly and Anika as they entered, and as soon as they stepped inside, Anika gave them both a quick smile. 

“I’ll be right back,” Anika said, already scanning the room. “Bathroom,” she added, before slipping away through the crowd, leaving Conrad and Belly standing by the entrance.

Belly felt a slight wave of relief as the two of them were left alone. It gave her a moment to gather herself, but the nerves were still there, a tight knot in her stomach. She glanced up at Conrad, who seemed just as out of place as she felt. His eyes darted around, scanning the people milling about, and she followed his gaze for a moment before her eyes landed on him again.

He looked good. More than good. His hair was perfectly styled, and his dark shirt and jeans gave him an effortlessly cool look. Still, he seemed a little uncomfortable, and it made her feel a bit better about her own nerves.

They started walking deeper into the room, towards the bar, and Belly couldn’t help but wish, just for a moment, that he would take her hand. She knew it would feel warm and grounding, and just the thought of it made her palms sweat. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t reached for her.

She kept a little distance between them, but they were still close enough for her to catch the quick glances he shot her way, and to feel the slight pull in her chest every time their eyes met.

As they reached the bar, Conrad turned to talk to her, and Belly’s heart skipped when she saw his face light up with a genuine smile. She hadn’t seen him look so at ease in a while. It made her pause, wondering what had caused it.

Her eyes instinctively followed his gaze, curiosity piqued. He was looking at someone across the room, his expression warm with recognition. Belly’s eyes narrowed slightly as she followed his light of sight, and then she saw the source of his smile.

Belly’s stomach dropped.

She watched as the girl from the hospital lobby made her way over to them with a confident stride. She looked even more striking up close – blonde hair flowing in soft waves, a bright smile on her face as she approached. She seemed to own the room the way someone who belonged here would.

As she got closer, Conrad’s face brightened even more, and before Belly could prepare herself, the girl closed the distance between them. 

“Connie!” she exclaimed, practically throwing herself into his arms with a big, enthusiastic hug. She laughed as she pulled away, and Conrad’s face softened in a way that made Belly’s chest tighten. It wasn’t a brief greeting; it was intimate, the kind of hug that made Belly feel like an intruder.

She wanted to look away, but it was like she couldn’t. The girl was throwing herself over him, wrapping herself around him with an ease that felt… possessive. 

Get a grip. The voice in her head reminded her that she didn’t have a right to feel this way. This girl could do whatever she wanted. She could hug him however she pleased because she was Conrad’s girlfriend, after all. 

The girl finally released Conrad and stepped back, still smiling brightly, before turning her attention to Belly.

“You must be Belly,” she said, her tone warm and inviting.

Belly blinked, snapping herself out of her thoughts. She tried to muster a smile, but it felt forced, a little too tight around the edges. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, but she managed to nod in greeting.

“That’s me,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady, though she felt like her world had just tilted.

The girl’s smile widened. “I’m Agnes,” she said, as if the name was supposed to mean something. “Conrad’s told me so much about you. He talks about those summers at the beach house all the damn time. It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Belly opened her mouth to respond, to say something polite, but it all felt like a blur. She could feel her smile faltering at the edges, a tightness in her throat making it harder to breathe. “It’s nice to meet you, too” she finally said, her voice quieter than she meant.

She tried to keep her posture relaxed, to not let the hurt show in her eyes, but inside, she was sinking.

Agnes turned her attention back to Conrad, her smile wide and animated as she began to talk about something that Belly didn’t quite catch. The way she spoke so freely, her hand on Conrad’s arm as she laughed, made it clear that they had a rapport that was easy and natural. Belly couldn’t help but feel like a shadow in the background, caught in the static of a conversation she didn’t belong to.

Conrad, for his part, seemed entirely comfortable, laughing and nodding along to whatever Agnes was saying, his gaze locked on her with a kind of warmth that felt painful to Belly. She knew she had no right to feel this way – she barely knew this girl. But it didn’t stop the gnawing ache in her chest, a sting that came from watching them interact so easily, so familiarly.

Belly felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, as if her feet had somehow become one with the floor. She wanted to speak, wanted to make herself heard in the conversation. She wanted to show that she was there too, that she mattered, but it felt impossible. Agnes had already claimed the space, already taken her place in Conrad’s world, and Belly was left on the outside.

The weight of it all finally became too much, and, without thinking, Belly swiped a bottle off the bar – some kind of expensive tequila, she noted absently – and tucked it under her arm. Neither Conrad nor Agnes seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their conversation, and she didn’t give herself a second thought. She slid away into the crowd, moving as if her body was on autopilot.

Her mind raced, too fast for her to catch up with, but she wasn’t ready to face it all. She just needed a moment. Need to breathe, to escape. The music was louder as she walked further into the party, the voices blurring together in the background. The bottle in her hand felt heavy now, more weight than she had anticipated.

She found a quieter corner, leaning against the wall and clutching the bottle with shaking hands. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to feel this hurt, but it was there, suffocating her in a way that made her want to shrink into herself.

Belly cursed herself under her breath. How could she have forgotten? She'd known that Conrad had a girlfriend. Of course he did. What had she been thinking, letting herself believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something still there between them?

It wasn’t like Conrad had ever mentioned Agnes. Not once. Was that deliberate? Belly thought bitterly. Maybe he just didn’t think it was important. Maybe he just didn’t think Belly was important.

She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, willing the thoughts to stop. God, but it was important. It was everything. The hurt was suffocating, knotting in her stomach, her throat. She had to swallow it down.

Her eyes fell on the bottle in her hand. Without thinking, she took another long gulp, the liquid burning its way down her throat. It was sharp and hot, a sting that made her wince, but it dulled the ache in her chest, and for a moment, that was all she wanted. She just needed to feel something, anything other than the constant weight pressing against her ribs.

Belly’s breath came faster now, her grip tightening on the bottle. The room around her felt like it was closing in, but she didn’t want to go back out there. Not when everything felt so raw and exposed.

Another gulp. The burn seared her throat, and her head swam slightly from the intensity. The music throbbed in the background, but she couldn’t make herself care about it. The crowd, the conversations, they were just noise. She was alone here. Alone in her thoughts, alone in her hurt.

You need to pull yourself together, she told herself, but the words didn’t stick. Not now. Not here.

She closed her eyes and let the alcohol settle in.

Conrad nodded absently as Agnes continued talking at him, her voice bubbling with animated frustration about her hellish day at work. She was recounting some incident with a particularly difficult patient, and while he usually would have listened more intently, tonight, his mind was somewhere else. On someone else. On Belly.

He tried to focus on the task in front of him. Two drinks. One for him, one for Belly. He poured carefully, watching the liquid splash against the sides of the glasses, but his thoughts kept drifting. He turned the glass slightly, eyeing the amber liquid as it swirled inside. Had he made Belly’s too strong? 

Conrad hesitated, glancing towards the soda and juice mixers, debating if he should tone it down or just leave it as it was. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get her drunk, but he wanted her to have a good time, and maybe it would help her relax a little.

“…And then he just walked off without saying a word, like he was too good for us,” Agnes was still ranting, but Conrad barely heard her. He was looking for Belly, his gaze flicking to where she had been standing only moments ago – except she wasn’t there.

A wave of panic hit him, unexpected and sharp. He scanned the room quickly, trying not to look too obvious, but his eyes darted around the space, searching for her. 

Nothing. No sign of her.

He turned back to Agnes, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Sorry, Aggie,” he said, his voice tight. “I need to go check on something.” He didn’t wait for a response before excusing himself, weaving through the crowd in search of her.

The music was loud, voices blending together in the background, but he was only focused on one thing: finding Belly.

He made his way towards the kitchen, hoping she had just slipped away for a moment to get some space, but it was empty. No sign of her there either.

His heart started to pound a little harder in his chest as unease crept up his spine. He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers shaking slightly as he typed out a quick message.

“Are you ok? Where did you run off to?”

Conrad clutched his phone tightly in his hand, the text to Belly sitting unread as he moved back into the main room. The steady thrum of music and chatter filled the air, but it barely registered. He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of her – her dark hair, the soft blue blouse she’d been wearing, anything that would tell him she was there. That she hadn’t left.

But she wasn’t waiting for him, and the uneasy knot in his stomach tightened.

Instead, someone called his name, drawing his attention. “Conrad!” It was the birthday boy himself, his friend Caleb, making his way over with a wide grin and a drink in hand.

“Hey, man,” Caleb said, clapping Conrad on the back. “Glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Conrad replied automatically, forcing a small smile. He slipped his phone into his pocket for the moment, though his fingers itched to pull it back out, to check if Belly had replied.

Caleb launched into a story about his plans for the rest of the night, the kind of wild escapades that usually would have made Conrad laugh or roll his eyes, but he wasn’t really listening. His heart wasn’t in it, and all he could think about was Belly. Where was she? Why had she disappeared? Was she upset?

He nodded along to Caleb’s words, offering a half-hearted “sounds great” when prompted, but his eyes kept flicking towards the doorway, the bar, the crowd – anywhere Belly might have reappeared.

“You good, man?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Conrad said quickly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Just taking it all in.”

Caleb nodded, oblivious, and continued talking. Conrad stayed just long enough to not seem rude, forcing himself to say a quick “Happy birthday, man” before stepping away. The moment he was free, his phone was back in his hand, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Still no response.

Belly was drunk. Really drunk. And she was pretty sure she was under a table. How she’d ended up there was anyone’s guess, but it didn’t matter. It was nice here – comfy, kind of quiet, and most importantly, hidden. She liked hidden. It felt safe, like the world couldn’t touch her. Or maybe she just couldn’t see it clearly enough to care.

Her head lolled against the table leg, her fingers still wrapped tightly around the neck of the tequila bottle she’d grabbed earlier. It was lighter now, almost empty. That realisation struck her as absurdly funny, and a giggle bubbled out of her. 

She couldn’t tell how long she’d been under there or even how long she’d been at the party. It all felt like a fuzzy, swirling blur. Time didn’t exist, not in her little table fort. The music thumped in the distance, muffled but insistent, blending with the murmur of voices above her like a strange, offbeat lullaby. She liked it here. It was warm, and the world felt pleasantly titled, like she was floating.

Her feet stretched out a little further from her hiding spot, her boot nudging the edge of someone’s chair. She didn’t notice. Or care.

Then someone tripped over her feet, stumbling and nearly falling. Belly let out a startled, sing-song, “Oops, sorry!” and dissolved into another fit of giggles.

The person, clearly less amused, muttered a string of curses under their breath, but Belly barely registered it. She waved her hand in a lazy, dismissive motion, still laughing softly to herself.

She leaned back against the table leg, sighing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

Belly blinked sluggishly as she heard footsteps approaching, the sound of them growing louder and closer. Her hiding spot no longer hidden. A shadow passed over the edge of the table, and she squinted, trying to make out the figure looming above. Her vision was too blurry, the edges of the room swirling and doubled as she tilted her head up. Whoever it was, they were coming straight for her.

The figure bent down, and she caught the faint outline of a face as they ducked under the table. She heard a soft thunk as they bumped their head lightly. The sound made her giggle again, and she clutched the tequila bottle a little tighter.

“Ow,” the person muttered, their voice low and familiar, tinged with faint annoyance.

Belly blinked harder, willing her eyes to focus. It wasn’t until they managed to fully crawl into the space next to her, their shoulders brushing hers, that the shape of them started to solidify in her drunken haze.

It was Conrad.

Her breath hitched, and the giggles died in her throat. Of course, it had to be him. She stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up, to piece together what was happening. His face was close now, too close, and for a moment, all she could focus on were the tiny details she’d always noticed about him – the slight crook of his nose, the way his jaw tightened as he looked at her.

“Belly?” he asked softly, his voice cutting through the fog in her head. His brows furrowed as his eyes flicked over her, taking in the tequila bottle in her lap and the unmistakable glaze in her eyes. “What are you doing under here?”

She opened her mouth to answer but realised she didn’t know. What was she doing under here?

Instead, she just shrugged, the movement exaggerated and clumsy, and let out a soft, “It’s comfy.”

Conrad leaned back slightly, his head brushing the underside of the table again as he settled into the cramped space beside her. “Why’d you walk off?” he asked, his voice soft but threaded with concern. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Belly titled her head toward him, her hair falling into her face, which she lazily brushed away. She studied him for a moment, as if she were trying to decide whether to answer. Then, with the seriousness only someone very drunk could muster, she said, “Listen.” She leaned closer, her breath warm with tequila. “I knew it. You didn’t know I knew it, but I knew it. And then I didn’t know it, but now I know it again. You know?”

Conrad blinked at her, caught somewhere between amused and deeply concerned. “What?” he asked, his brows pulling together as he tried to piece together her rambling.

“Memories,” Belly clarified, nodding emphatically. “They’re funny.” She dissolved into a fit of giggles, clutching the tequila bottle to her chest like a prized possession. “So funny.”

He didn’t laugh. His gaze stayed fixed on her, quiet and serious. His hand hovered near her arm, like he wasn’t sure if he should reach out or let her talk. “Belly,” he said softly, his voice low and steady, “are you okay?”

She shook her head, almost impatiently. “You don’t get it,” she said, waving him off dramatically. “Okay, so you were laughing –“ Her eyes widened, and she pointed at him as if this were the most important detail in the world. “ – and there was this wall of nurses.” Her voice rose with the excitement of revelation. “A shield of nurses!” She threw her hands up for emphasis, bumping the table and making the glasses on top clink loudly. “A shield, Conrad!” she shouted before bursting into giggles again.

Conrad tried to follow, but her words were a swirling mess. Still, he found himself smiling faintly despite himself. “A shield of nurses?” he echoed.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, as if he’d finally caught on. ”And you –“ She pointed at him again, this time more slowly, her giggles tapering off into something softer, sadder. “You were really happy,” she said, her voice quiet now. “Are you happy?”

Her question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. “Yeah,” he said finally, though the world felt heavy in his throat. “I’m happy.”

Belly stared at him, her eyes glassy and wide. And then, without warning, her face crumpled, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t even know why she was crying. Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was something else. All she knew was that the tears kept falling, hot and relentless, streaking her cheeks as she hiccupped softly. She wanted Conrad to be happy – she really did. His happiness mattered more to her than almost anything in the world. But the truth of it twisted painfully in her chest. Because he was happy without her.

The thought sat heavy in her mind, like a weight pressing down on her. Her stomach churned with the sharp ache of it, a reminder of everything she didn’t want to feel.

“Hey, hey,” Conrad murmured, his voice low and soothing as he reached out to her. His thumb brushed across her cheek, gently wiping away the tears. “it’s okay. Belly, it’s okay.”

Her breath caught at the tenderness in his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. She noticed how close they were, the way his face hovered just inches from hers. His hand lingered on her cheek, warm and steady, grounding her in a way that felt almost too much to bear.

Her gaze dropped, unbidden, to his lips. They looked soft, familiar, like they were meant to fit against hers. The thought made her heart stutter, and she leaned in without thinking, her face tilting towards his.

But just as her lips were about to brush his, the memory of why she was crying slammed into her like a wave. He was happy. Happy without her. With someone else.

The realisation snapped her back to reality, and she jerked away, pushing his back with a force that surprised even her. “No,” she said, her voice shaking, her hands pressed firmly against his chest. “No. You need to leave. Just – leave me alone.”

“Belly,” Conrad started, confusion and concern flashing in his eyes. He reached for her again, but she pushed harder this time, her palms digging into him as she shoved him towards the edge of the table.

“I mean it!” she snapped, her voice crackling. “Get out!” 

He hesitated, clearly torn, but the finality in her tone left little room for argument. With a deep breath, he backed out from under the table, his movements slow, deliberate, like he didn’t want to spook her further.

Belly curled into herself as he left, wrapping her arms around her knees and clutching the tequila bottle like a shield. She heard him pause just outside the table fort, his footsteps lingering for a beat too long.

“Belly…” His voice was soft, hesitant, but she didn’t answer. She just buried her face in her knees, squeezing her eyes shut until she heard his footsteps retreat into the hum of the party. Only then did she let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

Conrad weaved through the crowded living room, scanning the clusters of people for Anika. The party felt suffocating now, the music too loud, the air too warm, but he pushed through, his mind racing with what had just happened. When he finally spotted her near the kitchen, laughing with a group of guys, he hesitated for a moment. She looked so at ease.

He hated to interrupt, but this couldn’t wait. 

“Anika,” he called softly, touching her arm to get her attention. She turned to him, her smile fading slightly as she took in his expression. “Hey. I, uh, need to take Belly home. She’s drunk – like, really drunk.”

Concern flashed across her face, and she set her drink down on the counter. “Oh no, is she okay? Do you want me to come with you? I can help – “

Conrad shook his head quickly, cutting her off. “No, no. You should stay and enjoy the party. I’ve got it handled.” His voice was calm but firm, leaving little room for argument.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “I don’t mind –“ 

“I’m sure,” he insisted, his tone softening. “Really. It’s not a big deal. Just… enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

Anika hesitated for a moment, clearly torn, but eventually nodded. “Alright,” she said, her voice reluctant. “But text me when you get home, okay? Just so I know you’re both safe.”

Conrad offered her a small, reassuring smile. “Will do,” he said before turning to leave. As he walked back toward the table where Belly was still tucked away, he felt the weight of the night settling heavier on his shoulders. 

His heart sank when he finally reached the table fort, expecting to find Belly still in her chaotic little world of tequila and giggles. But instead, she was curled up on the floor, her head resting against the edge of the table, her breathing slow and steady. She looked… peaceful. Too peaceful. He kneeled down beside her, his hand gently brushing her hair from her face, his eyes scanning her for any sign that she might still be awake.

“Belly?” he whispered, his voice soft. But she didn’t stir. Her face was slack with sleep, and for a moment. He almost felt guilty for disturbing her. Almost.

He glanced around the area quickly, scanning for any of her things, but there was no sign of her bag. He exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin as he stood and looked around the room once more. Nothing.

“Belly,” he said a little louder this time, kneeling back down. He carefully placed his hands under her arms, lifting her gently from the ground. She stirred slightly in his arms, mumbling his name in a low, drowsy voice.

“Conrad…”  she murmured, her words slow and slurred, but he could hear the hint of recognition in her tone.

He adjusted his grip, cradling her against him as he stood. “Can you tell me where your bag is?” he asked softly, looking down at her.

Belly just shrugged, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Don’t know,” she mumbled. “Don’t care” Her voice trailed off, and she nuzzled deeper into his chest, clearly too tired to be of much help.

Conrad sighed, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. He knew it didn’t matter. He would figure it out tomorrow. Right now, he just needed to get her out of here.

“Alright,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Let’s go.” He looked around once more, then started making his way towards the door, holding her close against him.

Conrad carefully set Belly down on his bed, her body limp in his arms as he pulled the covers back, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. He adjusted her gently, tucking the blankets around her as best as he could. But just as he started to pull away, her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength for someone so drunk.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep but filled with an undeniable sense of vulnerability. She blinked up at him, her eyes barely open, and her grip on him tightened. “Please, don’t leave me yet.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking down at her with a soft sigh. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Carefully, he climbed onto the bed, settling down next to her but making sure not to disturb her too much. He lay over the covers, just close enough so she could feel his presence but still maintaining a small distance, giving her space.

Belly’s eyes fluttered closed, her face softening as Conrad’s fingers brushed through her hair. She leaned into the warmth of his touch, her breach slowing as if she were finding solace in the simple gesture. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet, the steady rhythm of their breathing filling the space between them.

Then, her voice broke the silence, quiet and tentative, as though she was afraid of asking.

“Will you kiss me?” she murmured, the words soft and slurred, but full of a raw vulnerability. She shifted closer, her grip on his wrist loosening just enough for her fingers to brush against his skin. “Just one last time… please?”

Her words hung in the air, and for a second, everything seemed to stop. Conrad’s heart stuttered in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to lean down, to feel her lips against his again, to undo all the space that had built up between them. But even as the desire flared inside him, a darker thought crept into his mind. She was drunk.

Belly’s voice interrupted his thoughts, her next words a quiet whisper, almost as if she were reassuring him.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, a faint, almost careless smile curling at the edges of her lips. “I promise.”

She didn’t know what she was asking. 

His gaze dropped to her face, to the way her expression softened with that strange mix of hope and fragility. Everything in him screamed to kiss her, to give in to what they had once shared, but the voice of caution – of responsibility – was louder.

He swallowed, his throat dry, and gently pulled his wrist free from her grasp. “Belly,” he began, his voice thick with emotion but steady, “you’re drunk. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

She stared up at him for a long moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face, but it didn’t last. She nodding slowly, her eyes growing heavier, and she let her hand fall away.

“Okay,” she whispered, as if the fight had drained out of her. “I understand.”

Conrad watched as Belly’s breathing gradually slowed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her eyes fluttered closed, and the tension that had been in her face melted away, leaving her looking peaceful, almost childlike in her vulnerability. She was finally asleep.

He sat there for a few moments longer, his eyes lingering on her, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions. Part of him wanted to stay, to be near her, but he knew she needed rest. She was safe here, tucked under the covers, and he couldn’t stay in the room with her. Not with the weight of the evening between them.

With a soft sigh, he gently extricated himself from the bed, careful not to disturb her.

Belly woke up to the soft, dim light of early morning creeping through the curtains. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, and she blinked slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before. The bed felt unfamiliar, and the quiet of the room wrapped around her like a cocoon, but as the haze of sleep lifted, she remembered. She was at Conrad’s.

She sat up slowly, wincing slightly as the movement stirred the hangover in her head. The room was still and peaceful, but she felt a vague sense of disorientation. She needed to use the bathroom.

Without thinking much, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded towards the door. The coolness of the hardwood floor sent a shiver up her spine, and she pulled her blouse closer around her body as she reached for the handle.

She twisted it, expecting to find the bathroom, but instead, she stepped into a small, dimly lit closet. The smell of cedar and dust hit her instantly, and her eyes flicked around in confusion. She looked up, eyes narrowing, and realised her mistake just as she knocked into a cardboard box that was sitting by the door.

The box teetered, then tipped over, spilling its contents across the floor with a soft rustle. Belly knelt down to pick up the scattered papers, but as she reached for them, she froze.

They were letters. A small pile of them, all addressed to her.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she picked up one of the envelopes. It looked old, its edges slightly frayed, but the name on the front was unmistakable. Her name. In Conrad’s handwriting.

She held the letter in her hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do. She could feel the weight of the moment, the strange pull of curiosity and hesitation. What were these? Why were they here?

Belly swallowed hard, then, with an almost reluctant sigh, she began gathering the letters. There was no way she could leave them on the floor, especially not where they were meant for her. She stacked them carefully, her mind racing with questions as she noticed that each letter had the same handwriting. Each one was addressed in the same familiar script.

She held the stack of letters to her chest for a few moments, gathering her thoughts before she stepped out of the closet and back towards the bed. The room was still quiet, and as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her mind raced with questions. She carefully placed the letters on the comforter beside her, looking down at the first one.

She ran her fingers over the smooth paper, hesitant. She didn’t know why, but something deep inside her felt like this moment was important. She was already bracing herself for the flood of emotions that might follow. 

With a shaky breath, she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, opening it carefully. She pulled out the letter, unfolding it slowly, her eyes skimming over the words as she began to read.

*

Belly,

It’s my mom’s anniversary, today. I spent the day at the beach. I didn’t really know how else to mark the day, except to be there, in the place that always made her feel at peace, where she felt alive. It helped. Sort of.

I was thinking back to one of the last conversations we had, right after we broke up. After prom. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I drove straight to her house that night. And I cried in her arms.

It felt so stupid, crying about losing you, when she was going through everything she was. When I was so close to losing her, too. But Susannah never made me feel bad for feeling. She listened, she held me, and she told me everything would be okay, even though it felt like it never would be.

We talked through the night. About you, Belly. About how much I loved you. She knew. She could always tell when it came to you, even when I couldn’t admit it myself. Susannah said that things wouldn’t be bad forever. That no matter what happened, she believed in you and me. Together. 

I hope she was right. I hope that one day we find our way back to each other. I won’t leave you, this time. I can’t.

Conrad.

*

The letter slipped from her hands as she finished reading, her heart pounding in her chest. She stared blankly at the paper, her mind reeling. How had he kept these letters? Why had he never sent them? 

Her eyes welled up with tears she hadn’t expected, and before she could stop them, they began to spill down her cheeks. 

Conrad’s words echoed in her head, and she tried to steady herself. She wanted to be angry. She should be angry. But all she could think about was how much she loved him, too. How much she wanted to say those words to him. 

Belly grabbed the next letter in the stack, determined to read it, to understand more. But deep down, a part of her was afraid that reading any more might break her open completely.

*

Bells!

I passed my med school finals? I actually did it? Don’t get me wrong, I am happy. And I’m proud of myself. But it feels… empty. Like there’s a hole in the middle of it all. I keep thinking about how I wish you were here to share it with me. To celebrate with me. I should be calling you right now, telling you everything.

Instead, I’m going to be celebrating with my friends. I think you’d like them, Belly. I know they’d like you.

They’ve all heard about you, a lot. They like to tease me about it, how I’m still stuck on you. They’ve long given up hope that I’ll move on, and honestly, I don’t think they really expect me to anymore. They know. They’ve known for years that there’s no moving on from you.

And they’re right.

It’s not possible.

I still think about you, every single day. And it doesn’t matter how much I try to distract myself with school or work or anything else, because in the end, I don’t want to stop. You’re always going to be there. Even now, I still picture you, I still hear your voice in my head, and sometimes, it’s almost like you’re here with me. And that’s enough for now.

Anyway, I should get going. They’re probably all waiting for me. I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy. 

I hope wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you’re happy too.

Conrad.

*

Bells,

Merry Christmas.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about that Christmas we spent together. You remember it, don’t you?

Those were some of the best days of my life. If not *the* best days. I’ll always look back on them and think about how perfect they were, how perfect you were. Are.

I went out and bought some chocolate covered pretzels the other day. I don’t know why, they just made me think of you. I like anything that makes me think of you.

I hope you’re having a lovely Christmas. I hope you have everything you’ve ever wanted in life.

By the way, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.

Conrad.

*

Belly,

I’m sat on the grass outside my therapist’s office, processing, and I wanted to talk to you. I, honestly, never thought I’d ever do something like this, but here I am. Trying to figure things out.

It’s been hard, but it’s also been eye-opening in ways I never expected. I’ve been working on myself, on becoming the person I should’ve been before I messed everything up with you. I’m learning to take responsibility for the things I’ve done and the things I didn’t do.

You’ve always been the one to inspire me to be better, to be more than I am. I’ve always known I had more in me – I just didn’t know how to reach it. But you made me want to. And it kills me that I didn’t figure it out sooner. 

My therapist, though, she keeps trying to convince me that there are multiple people out there for everyone. That I’ll fall in love again someday. And honestly, I can’t take her seriously when she says that. Maybe it’s true for most people, but not for me. My heart is already full. It’s always been full, and it always will be, with you.

You’ve always had all of me.

Conrad.

*

Belly was frozen, the letters scattered around her, each one more heart-wrenching that the last. The words, the honestly, the vulnerability in them… it was like Conrad was speaking directly to her, even though he never had the chance to say any of this out loud. She couldn’t breathe.

Her chest felt tight, a weight pressing on her ribs as the tears kept falling, each letter stripping away another layer of her resolve, until she was left raw and exposed. How had he been carrying all of this for so long? How had he never told her? And why hadn’t she known?

Belly couldn’t even bring herself to touch the next letter. Her hands were trembling too much, and she was scared of what more she might find. They were only words on paper, but they had a power that was undeniable, shaking her to her core. She hadn’t been ready for this.

And then, from behind her, a voice cut through the quiet air.

“Belly?”

Chapter Text

Conrad’s eyes locked on the letters in Belly’s trembling hands, his face pale and filled with a fear she hadn’t seen before. He looked as though someone had ripped the air from his lungs. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to reach out, but he stayed rooted to the spot, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Belly, panicked and overwhelmed, tried to shove the letters back into their envelopes, her fingers fumbling with the crinkled edges. Her hands trembled so violently that the papers crumbled under her grip. Her voice broke when she finally managed to stammer, “I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to — I shouldn’t have…” She stopped, shaking her head as if trying to push away her own spiralling thoughts. “I didn’t know, Conrad. I didn’t know.”

Her voice cracked on his name, and the sound of it felt like a blow to him. She knelt on the bed, scrambling to gather the scattered pages, her movement frantic and clumsy. As though stuffing the letters away could erase what she’d just uncovered. 

Conrad took an uncertain step closer, his hand rising slightly, palm open. “Belly…” he started, his voice hoarse, almost a plea. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He just wanted to reach her, to stop her before the storm in her eyes overtook her.

But Belly flinched away from him, clutching the letters to her chest as though they were a shield. “Don’t,” she whispered sharply, her tone raw and broken. “Just — don’t.”

Her words made him freeze, his hand falling back to his side. His throat worked as he tried to form words, but none came. What could he possibly say? The truth was in those letters, laid bare for her to see, and there was no way to soften it, no way to explain what had never been meant to be found.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Belly’s eyes finally lifted to his, glassy with unshed tears. The weight of his gaze only deepened the ache in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to cry, to demand answers. But all she could do was shake her head, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I… I can’t do this.”

She turned quickly, her movements hurried and unsteady, her legs carrying her toward the door like she couldn’t escape fast enough. Conrad moved after her, his steps hesitant at first, then more determined. “Belly, wait,” he croaked, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even glance back.

As she reached for the doorknob, the soft gleam of light caught on the small pendant hanging around her neck. The infinity sign dangled there, a quiet but striking reminder of everything unsaid between them. Conrad’s breath hitched, his heart stuttering as he stared at it.

“Belly,” he tried again, his voice cracking with desperation. This time, it was more than a plea — it was a command, a final attempt to anchor her before she slipped away completely. “Please.”

But she didn’t stop. She yanked the door open, stepping into the hallway without a second thought. Her bare feet hit the cold floor, she sound echoing in the stillness of the apartment. She didn’t grab her shoes, didn’t look back, didn’t hesitate for even a second. Her only thought was to escape — escape him and escape the feelings that were threatening to drown her.

Conrad stood frozen in place, watching her disappear. He wanted to chase her, to make her stop and listen, but his feet wouldn’t move. All he could do was stand there, staring at the open door, the faint echo of her steps fading into silence.

Belly made it halfway down the street before the sharp sting of the pavement against her bare feet broke through the haze of her panic. She stopped abruptly, her chest heaving, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps that scraped against her throat. Her eyes flicked down to her feet, and only then did it hit her — she didn’t have her shoes. Or her bag. Or her phone. Nothing.

She turned in a slow circle, disoriented. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though she could somehow hold all the unraveling pieces together. She’d never been to Conrad’s apartment before — never even been to this part of the city — and now, standing barefoot on these strange streets, nothing looked remotely recognisable. 

The street signs overhead swayed in the corner of her vision, the faded letters distorted, almost nonsensical. They offered no direction, no comfort, just a silent reminder of how lost she was.

She started walking again, her steps quickening, each one taking her further from the apartment. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t stop. If she paused, even for a second, the weight of everything — everything she couldn’t seem to hold onto — might catch up with her, might pull her under. She couldn’t afford to stop.

Her feet ached with every step. The rough concrete dug into her skin, but she barely felt it. The world around her felt too distant, too blurry. Her breath came in shallow bursts, the lump in her throat growing larger with each step, her chest tightening as she tried to outpace the thoughts threatening to swallow her whole.

She didn’t know where she was going. It didn’t matter. She just had to keep moving.

And then, like a light breaking through the fog, she saw it. A subway entrance. Tucked into the sidewalk like a hidden portal. The metal railing gleamed faintly in the muted light, offering her a strange sense of direction.

Belly gripped the railing as she descended, her fingers trembling slightly, as thought it might slip out of her hands. The railing was slick with grime, worn by years of hands that had come before her, but it held steady, offering her some small piece of stability in the chaos of her mind.

The scent of the underground hit her all at once — damp, concrete, stale — but strangely grounding, as thought the very air was whispering that she was moving in the right direction. Even if she had no idea where that was.

She didn’t stop to think. She ducked under the turnstile, the metal bar creaking faintly as she brushed against it. She half-expected someone to shout at her, an alarm to go off. But there was nothing. No voice. No warning. Only silence.

She reached the platform just as the train screeched to a halt, the scream of its brakes a harsh, jarring sound. Without hesitation, without even pausing to think, she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the empty car. The worn seats, the tired commuters — none of it mattered to her. 

Belly made her way to the furthest corner, sinking down onto the cold plastic bench. Her legs curled up instinctively, her arms wrapping around her knees as she tried to make herself smaller, as if that might somehow make the pain go away. The train lurched forward, its motion pulling her slightly out of balance, but she pressed her forehead against her knees, holding on tightly.

The tears came quietly at first, hot and stinging as they slid down her cheeks. But soon, they were flowing faster, a steady stream as the sobs wracked her body, shaking her from the inside out. She cried not because Conrad loved her — though she knew that now. She cried because of all the years lost, the time spend apart when they both could’ve been together. She cried because she couldn’t go back, couldn’t undo the mistakes, couldn’t fix the hurt.

But most of all, she cried because, even now, after everything, she had ran from him again. She was always running. She didn’t even know why.

Conrad stood there, frozen, long after the sound of her footsteps had faded. His eyes remained locked on the door, as if he could somehow make her return with nothing more than a look. But she was gone now.

His mind kept circling back to the necklace. The infinity necklace. The one he had given her all those years ago. She had kept it. Through everything — through all the time they’d spent apart, the misunderstandings, the pain, the mistakes — she had kept it.

The sight of it just before she stepped out the door, glinting under the low light of the apartment, had knocked the breath out of him. How had he missed it? How had he not noticed it all night, when it had been right there, right in front of him, hanging quietly against her skin.

Why had she kept it? What did it mean? Had she kept it because it meant what it always had — that they were infinite? That no matter what happened, no matter the distance, they were always meant to find their way back to each other. Or was it just a keepsake, something too painful or too sentimental to throw away — a relic of a past that didn’t exist anymore?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

But if it was a symbol of them, of something unbreakable and enduring, then why had she run off last night? Why had she pulled away from him when it felt like everything between them could’ve shifted, could’ve changed?

His breathing quickened. He could feel the weight of his chest tightening with each shallow inhale, as if the very air in the room was conspiring against him. His legs wobbled slightly, and he gripped the back of the nearest chair to steady himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all, but it was no use. His thoughts were coming too fast now, one slamming into the next before the last had a chance to settle. Fragments of her words from last night, her laughter, her anger, her silence — all of it swirled together in his head, overlapping and distorting until they felt like knives.

Why did she keep it?

Why didn’t she stay?

Why won’t she let me fix this?

What am I missing? What am I not seeing?

The questions looped over and over until they blurred into a frantic hum that drowned out everything else. His chest felt like it was caving in. The pressure behind his ribs mounted, and he swore his heart was trying to claw its way out of his body.

A hollow ringing filled his ears, and he realised he wasn’t breathing properly. His breaths were short, shallow gasps, his lungs barely taking in enough air.

Stop.

He clung to the word like a lifeline. He forced his hands to let go of the chair and pressed them against his thighs, grounding himself. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but open, and he stumbled backward until his spine met the wall.

Breathe.

He forced himself to inhale slowly, though it felt like dragging air through a straw. He held it for a beat before letting it out in a shaky exhale. Again. And again. Each breath a little deeper, a little steadier, until the ringing began to fade and the pressure in his chest eased.

Conrad focused on the feeling of his feet against the floor, the rough texture of the wall against his back, the sound of his own breathing. Slowly, the chaos in his head began to quiet, leaving him with a single, unrelenting thought.

He was missing something. Something important, something critical, but no matter how hard he tried to piece it together, the answer remained elusive. 

How could he know? How could he possibly understand what was going on in her head when she wouldn’t tell him? When she wouldn’t stay long enough to let him try? 

The ache in his chest deepened, a dull, relentless throb that radiated through him. It wasn’t just the weight of her absence — it was everything. Every unsaid word, every missed chance, every mistake that had piled up over the years. It had grown too heavy to bear, pressing down on him until it felt like he might collapse under it.

He couldn’t go back. Not to the way things had been. Not to the silence, the distance, the pretending. The words he’d swallowed for so long were clawing their way to the surface, desperate to be spoken. He couldn’t hold them back anymore. Not this time. 

Belly had lost track of time. She was pretty sure she’d ridden the line end to end at least twice now, maybe more. The stops all blurred together, one indistinguishable from the next, just like the faces around her.

People were definitely staring. She could feel their eyes darting toward her before quickly glancing away, their gazes lingering just a second too long to be subtle. She must’ve been a sight — cheeks streaked with black mascara, lips trembling, the occasional hiccupped sob slipping out no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down. Her shoulders shook with the effort of trying to hold it all in, but the tears kept coming, refusing to stop.

She should be embarrassed. Breaking down on the subway like this, in front of strangers who just wanted to get to wherever they were going, she should feel mortified. Instead, she found herself laughing. It wasn’t a happy sound — more like a broken, jagged thing that bubbled up from deep inside her and caught even her by surprise.

And her laughter only made people stare more. She could see their confusion, the way they tried to make sense of the girl who was crying one second and laughing the next. Their discomfort was almost enough to distract her from the storm inside her. Almost.

Belly wiped at her face with the sleeve of her shirt, smearing even more mascara across her cheeks, and let out a breathless giggle. She probably looked insane. Maybe she was insane. She didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them judge. She had bigger things to worry about than what a bunch of strangers on a train thought of her.

For example, how was she going to fix this mess she had made? Would Conrad have it in his heart to forgive her for running out on him this morning? For running out on him every time things got too heavy, too real? Had she failed him one too many times? She pressed her palms against her cheeks, still damp from her tears, and exhaled shakily. Did she even deserve his unwavering love?

And even if he did forgive her — if somehow, against all odds, he could look past the damage she’d done — how the hell was she supposed to get to him? She couldn’t call him. Couldn’t text him. Her phone was… somewhere. Forgotten in the chaos of her escape. Going back to his apartment seemed like the only option, but as her dazed mind replayed the chaos of this morning, she realised she didn’t even remember which subway station she had boarded at — let alone how to retrace her steps from the station to his place.

She could go home. She should go home. That would be the sensible thing to do. Curl up in her own bed, drown herself in blankets, and let the world spin on without her for a little while. But the thought of it made her stomach turn. Home wasn’t the place she wanted to be right now. 

Her eyes flicked toward the window, the city lights streaking by in a blur. She could just… ride this train to the end again. Keep going until the movement lulled her into some kind of calm, until the tears stopped falling, or until her heart ached a little less. Maybe she could delay the inevitable for a little while longer.

Conrad hadn’t even bothered to shower, to change out of the clothes from the night before. The same rumpled shirt, the same jeans — he hadn’t thought twice about it. The only thing he’d stopped to grab was Belly’s shoes. They dangled from his hand now, a quiet reminder of her frantic escape. She’d need them if he managed to find her. When he managed to find her, he corrected himself. 

He’d combed the streets around his apartment first, his heart pounding as he scanned every corner, every passing face. She couldn’t have gotten far. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, and the city was a maze if you weren’t paying attention. But after an hour of searching — after retracing every possible step she might’ve taken, calling her name into the quiet pockets of early morning — he realised he’d underestimated her.

Next, he’d gone to her apartment. It was a long shot — she didn’t have her phone, and she’d left in such a rush that going home didn’t seem like something she’d have thought to do. But he was desperate, and desperate men clung to hope wherever they could find it. 

When he pounded on her door, it wasn’t Belly who answered, but Anika, her hair a messy halo around her head, her eyes squinting against the sunlight. She looked hungover and mildly annoyed, like the last thing she wanted to deal with was Conrad Fisher on her doorstep.

“Is she here?” Conrad asked, his voice barely above a whisper, so raw and defeated that it made Anika’s frown deepen. She blinked at him, her confusion evident, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she stepped aside and gestured silently toward Belly’s room.

Conrad didn’t thank her; he didn’t even hesitate. He moved past her, his heart hammering against his ribs as he approached the door. It was half-open, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the blinds casting striped shadows on the carpet.

Empty.

The room was untouched, the bed still made from the morning before, no sign of Belly anywhere. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the emptiness, his fingers tightening around the straps of her shoes. He’d known it was a long shot, but seeing the reality of it hit harder than he expected. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere he thought she might be.

When he returned to the living room, Anika looked a bit more awake, her expression sharper now as she sat on the edge of the couch. She rubbed her temples and squinted up at him, her brows knitting together in concern.

“She’s not here, is she?” She asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Conrad shook his head, frustration and worry bubbling to the surface. “No,” he muttered, holding up the shoes in his hand as if they were proof of just how far gone she was. “She bolted from my apartment this morning. Left these behind.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “I thought she’d come back here, but… I don’t know where she is.”

Anika’s confusion deepened, her lips parting as she tried to piece together the information. “Wait, bolted? Why?”

Conrad looked down at the shoes, his chest tightening again. “She was upset,” he said, his voice hollow. “We were talking, and she just—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what happened. She ran, and now I can’t find her.”

Anika leaned back, her expression softening as she took in his defeated posture. “And you’ve been out looking for her all morning,” she said quietly, not a question but an observation.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible. 

She reached for her phone, her fingers brushing over the screen as she unlocked it. “I’ll call her,” she said quickly, her voice laced with determination. “She’s probably—“

“No,” Conrad interrupted, his tone sharp but tinged with desperation. He stepped closer, holding her gaze. “She doesn’t have her phone. She lost her bag at the party last night.”

Anika froze, the phone still in her hand as the gravity of the situation seemed to sink in. “She doesn’t have her phone?” She repeated slowly, like she was trying to process the implications. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and her worry deepened. “Okay, well, that’s not good. Not good at all.”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah, no kidding.” He ran a hand down his face, the stress of the morning pressing heavily on him. “We need to figure out where she’d go. She left without her shoes, without her bag — she doesn’t have money or her phone. She can’t have gotten far, right?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, clearly thinking hard. “Maybe not, but Belly’s… stubborn. If she doesn’t want to be found, she’ll make it hard.”

Conrad’s stomach twisted at the thought. “Where would she go?” He asked, his voice low but urgent. “You know her better than anyone. If she’s upset, if she’s trying to… I don’t know, escape or something, where would she go?”

Anika furrowed her brow, setting her phone down on the coffee table as she thought. “Okay, um,” she began, her tone growing more serious. “If she’s trying to clear her head, she might go to the pier. She used to love walking along the water when she was upset.”

Conrad nodded, filing the suggestion away. “The pier. Got it. What else?”

“Um, there’s this little coffee shop she used to go to all the time,” Anika continued, tapping her fingers against her knee as she thought. “It’s tucked away, kind of quiet. She’d go there when she needed to think."

“Where is it?” He pressed, his intensity making Anika look at him sharply.

“I’ll give you the address,” she promised, but then her frown deepened. “But that’s assuming she’s not on the move. She could just… ride the subway or something. Belly does that when she’s trying to disappear — just hops on a train and zones out.”

Conrad’s heart sank. “The subway? How the hell am I supposed to find her if she’s on the subway?”

Anika held up her hands, her own anxiety bubbling to the surface. “I don’t know, okay? I’m just throwing out ideas. We’ll figure it out. We just… need to think this through.”

He nodded tightly, his mind racing. Every second Belly was out there alone felt like a second closer to losing her completely.

“I’ll start with the pier,” he said firmly, gripping Belly’s shoes like they were a lifeline. “Text me the address of the coffee shop, just in case.”

She nodded, already reaching for her phone. “Okay, but I’m getting dressed and coming with you,” she said. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

Conrad shook his head, his expression resolute. “No. Someone needs to be here in case she shows up.”

Anika hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “But—“

“Promise me,” Conrad cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. “Promise you’ll stay here and text me the second you see her. If she shows up, you need to keep her here, okay? No matter what.”

Anika studied his face for a moment, her own worry mirrored in his eyes. Finally, she sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to promise to call me if you find her.”

“I will,” Conrad said, already turning toward the door. “I’ll call. Just… stay here.”

Hours had passed, though Belly couldn’t pinpoint exactly how many. It was just a blur of faces, places and fleeting moments. The world around her had shifted, the steady hum of the subway now replaced by the bustle of people out and about, their movements faster, sharper. More eyes to judge her. She felt it.

Her feet ached now, the pain creeping in from the constant walking, the blisters that had formed from her bare feet against unforgiving pavement. She hadn’t realise just how far she’d wandered, her mind numb and clouded, the adrenaline that had pushed her earlier now gone. She was just… exhausted. Every step felt heavier than the last, and the weariness seemed to seep into her bones.

Her movements were sluggish now, dragging as she climbed the last few steps up to her apartment building. She had taken the subway end-to-end more times than she cared to admit, wandering with no real destination. She had told herself she was just “thinking”, but really, she was just running.

And now, there was nowhere left to go. No more places to hide from the weight of the mess she’d made.

Belly stood in front of the building door, her eyes fixed on the cold metal handle, and the harsh reality of her situation hit her like a wave. No keys. She grounded inwardly, frustration bubbling up in her chest. God, she hoped Anika was home.

Her hand shook as she pressed the buzzer. Her thumb was unsteady, and the familiar press of the button felt foreign in her hand. She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart, holding her breath as she waited for an answer. Every second felt like an eternity. 

When nothing happened, she pressed the buzzer again, this time with more urgency, more desperation. Her fingers were trembling now, and she pressed a few more in quick succession, hoping—praying— that someone would let her in. Her stomach churned as she stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a tight knot forming in her chest.

And then, just when she thought she might snap, a click. Soft. Almost imperceptible. But enough.

Belly didn’t waste a second. The door clicked open just slightly, and she was already stepping forward, her heart pounding in her chest. Without thinking, she ushered herself inside, the familiar, musty air of the building greeting her like a quiet refuge. 

She barely made it a few steps into the hallway before a body slammed into hers, knocking her sense of gravity off balance. The impact sent her stumbling, off-balance, her hand grasping at the doorframe behind her to keep herself from falling.

And then she felt it — warmth, familiar and comforting. Anika’s arms around her, pulling her in, and the scent of her shampoo filling the air. The light, floral scent she hadn’t realised she missed so much. The tightness in Belly’s chest eased, just a little, and she let herself lean into it, even if she couldn’t return the hug with the same intensity.

She was so tired. Too tired to hold herself up, too exhausted to match the force of Anika’s relief. She let her head fall onto her friends shoulder, her hands weakly resting around her, as if that small touch was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Anika murmured into her ear, but Belly just mumbled back, her voice shaky, low. Because she’s not okay. Not really. 

Anika pulled back just enough to take her in. She didn’t need to ask what had happened; the evidence was all over Belly’s face. The dark circles under her eyes, the tears still clinging to her skin, the emptiness in her expression. Without a word, Anika led her inside, guiding her with a steady hand. 

As they moved, Anika spoke, but Belly couldn’t process much of it. Her friend’s words washed over her, a gentle cascade of relief and concern. The words blurred into one another — “We were so worried about you,” “You’re freezing,” ”Did you walk the entire way home?” — but they didn’t register, not really. Belly wasn’t even sure she could form a coherent response.

Once inside, Anika didn’t waste any time. She guided Belly through the hallway like she was leading her through a dream. She didn’t speak, but the gentle pressure of her hand on Belly’s back told her everything she needed to know — Anika was there. Anika was going to take care of her.

When they reached the bathroom, Anika gently helped Belly sit on the edge of the toilet, her hands warm and firm, making sure she was steady. 

She moved toward the tub, her steps fluid and sure, like she knew exactly what to do, exactly how to make this all better. She turned on the faucet with practised ease, adjusting it to the perfect temperature, and the sound of the water rushing filled the room. It was steady, soothing, almost hypnotic, like a lullaby meant to wash away the weight of the day. 

As the water began to fill the tub, Anika’s hands moved to Belly’s clothes, slow and deliberate, as if Belly were made of fragile glass. 

Belly didn’t resist. She didn’t care. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about herself — it was just that everything felt so heavy, so overwhelming. Her body felt like a foreign thing, like it was no longer hers to command. It was unimportant, just something to be moved through space. She sat there, her eyes unfocused, feeling the coolness of the bathroom air against her skin as Anika carefully undressed her.

“Let’s get you in,” Anika cooed, her voice soft and steady, like it was the only thing holding Belly together. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest, as Anika carefully helped her step into the bath. The warm water swallowed her, and for the first time that day, she felt something like relief. The heat seeped into her bones, melting away the tension she’d been holding onto for hours, days, maybe even longer.

The quiet click of the shampoo bottle being opened pierced the silence, sharp in contrast to the soft hum of the water. Anika’s hands were gentle as they lathered the shampoo, her fingers moving through Belly’s hair with a tenderness that made her throat tighten. It made Belly want to cry — the kindness in Anika’s touch, the quiet way she was showing her that she wasn’t alone.

The water was calming, soothing, but it wasn’t enough to make her forget. It wasn’t enough to erase the ache that gnawed at her chest. But it helped. Just a little. 

Once her hair was rinsed, Anika guided her gently out of the water. The towel pressed against her chilled skin was almost too much — a wave of warmth that made her feel human again. Anika’s hands dried her off, never rushing, always steady. Each stroke was soft, reverent, like Belly might break if she moved too fast.

Wrapped in the towel, Anika led her to bed, the softness of the blankets inviting and warm. She helped her settle beneath them. She was cocooned now, safe and tucked in, and the exhaustion hit her all at once, as though it had been waiting patiently in the wings, waiting for the right moment. The weight of everything she’d been holding back crashed down on her, and Belly’s eyes fluttered, the pull of sleep irresistible.

She felt Anika shift beside her, felt the soft press of her body against the mattress as she sat next to her, her presence grounding, constant. The weight of her concern, her care, was almost too much, too comforting, too overwhelming, and Belly could feel herself crumbling, just a little. But Anika didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She simply sat there, silent, watching over her, and Belly let herself finally slip into sleep.

The pier was a bust. The coffee shop, too. Conrad’s heart sank with every empty spot he checked, every dead-end he turned down. He’d already circled back to his apartment, thinking maybe Belly had made her way there in some daze, but that, too, had proven fruitless. No sign of her. No clues. Nothing.

He was running on empty, now — desperate, frustrated, and barely keeping himself together. 

The frequency at which he checked his phone increased as the minutes dragged on. At first, it was every few minutes, a quick glance at the screen to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. But as time went on, the seconds seemed to stretch endlessly, and his hand kept drifting back to his pocket.

Now, he was looking at it multiple times a minute, his thumb flicking over the screen, willing a message from Anika to show up. Each time, the emptiness of the notification screen made his chest tighten a little more. The silence was unbearable.

His heart raced with every phantom buzz, every imagined vibration that turned out to be nothing at all. He hated how desperate he felt, how reliant he was on this small, glowing device to tether him to her. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t shake the need to know, to have some confirmation that she was okay — really okay — and that she wasn’t going to disappear again, slipping through his fingers like she always seemed to.

The bright screen felt like his only lifeline, the only connection he had to the possibility of finding her. But with every passing glance, the battery percentage ticked lower, a cruel reminder of how little time he might have left before even that was taken from him.

13%. His stomach tightened. 

He should preserve the battery. He knew that. He needed to stop checking it so often, needed to turn it off, at least for a while, just in case. But the thought of staring at a black screen, of sitting with nothing but his own spiralling thoughts — it was unbearable.

11%. 

His fingers tightened around the phone. He tapped the home button, then the messages app, even though nothing new had come through. The silence felt heavier with each passing second, pressing down on his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake.

10%. 

The panic clawed its way higher. He swallowed hard and locked the screen again, slipping the phone into his pocket like that would somehow help. It didn’t. Within moments, his hand was reaching for it again, the cycle repeating, as though this time would be different, as though this time the message he was waiting for would finally appear.

7%.

The number glared at him, stark and merciless. He had to stop checking. He had to. But he couldn’t. His thumb hovered over the screen, itching to unlock it again, to check just one more time.

5%.

A sharp breath escaped him, frustration bubbling to the surface. What was he even doing? Staring at the screen wasn’t going to make a text come any faster. But the alternative — waiting, helpless, disconnected — was worse. His eyes darted around the street, scanning the passerby, wondering for a fleeting, ridiculous moment if he could ask someone for a power bank. Did people even carry those around?

The idea was absurd, but the desperation made it linger. His gaze flicked to the shops lining the block, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Maybe he could buy one. He’d never needed one before, but surely they sold them somewhere. He started scanning the signs, the window displays.

A diner. A boutique. A sushi restaurant. Another cafe.

His jaw tightened as he walked faster, the hope fading with each shop he passed. None of them would have what he needed. The panic swelled, his pulse pounding in his ears. He hated the way his heart jumped to conclusions, imaging every worst-case scenario — imaging her out there, alone, unreachable, while he stood here, useless.

3%.

It felt like a countdown to catastrophe. He clenched his fist around the phone, resisting the urge to unlock it again. Instead, he glanced up, scanning frantically for anything he might have missed. Another block, another set of storefronts. More dead ends.

He pressed his lips together, trying to quiet the growing sense of doom. If he didn’t find somewhere soon, he’d have to go home. The thought twisted his stomach. Going home meant sitting in that empty apartment while his phone recharged, staring at the wall, waiting for the silence to be broken.

2%.

His breath hitched. It was too late. Even if he found a shop now, he wouldn’t have enough time.

And then, just as his screen dimmed to signal another drop in battery, his phone buzzed in his hand. His heart stopped, and for a split second, he thought he’d imagined it. But no — there it was. A message.

He unlocked in immediately, the words sharp and clear against the screen.

She’s back. She’s here.

For a moment, he just stared at the text, the relief washing over him like a wave. And then, without thinking, he bolted. Feet pounding against the pavement, his only thought was of her. He had to get to her. Now.

*

Conrad ran the entire way to her apartment. Over fifty blocks. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t let himself think about the burning in his lungs or the ache creeping into his legs. He couldn’t afford to. The only thing that mattered was getting to her. Each block passed in a blur, his mind locked on a single goal: Belly.

The city rushed by, a dizzying flurry of lights and shadows, the sound of traffic and murmurs of pedestrians barely registering in his ears. He hadn’t run like this in years — not since high school, back when running had a purpose tied to it, like chasing a ball across the field.

Now, it was different. Now, every step felt like a necessity, like his very breath depended on it. 

By the time he reached her building, his shirt clung to him, damp with sweat, and his chest felt like it might collapse. He didn’t care. He was here.

He didn’t wait for the elevator. Instead, he found himself climbing the steps to her door, taking them two at a time. The distance between them felt unbearable, even now that it was so close to nothing. Every second that passed was a second too long. He could feel the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, faster and louder with every step, pushing him forward, onward.

He reached her floor, breathless and aching, but he didn’t slow down. He kept moving, his feet carrying him to her door like they knew the way on their own. His hand was already reaching for the doorknob, even though he knew it would be locked. His fingers trembled as he raised them to knock.

He didn’t hesitate. Three sharp raps, following by a fourth that came too quickly, too desperate. Please.

The door swung open, and there was Anika, her expression tired but relieved. Before she could say anything, Conrad pushed past her, his urgency overriding every shred of politeness he might have had.

“Hey—“ she started, but then stopped herself, turning to follow him as he strode inside. She didn’t try to stop him. Didn’t even seem surprised by his determination. Instead, her voice was calm, measured, as she called after him, “She’s sleeping.”

That made him pause for just a second. His hand hovered near the back of the couch, his breath still heavy from the run. “What?” He asked, barely audible, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.

“She showed up a few hours ago,” Anika said, stepping further into the room. Her voice softened, concern lacing her words. “She was completely drained. It was like she could barely keep herself standing. I got her cleaned up and settled in bed. She’s out cold now.”

Conrad exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the adrenaline that had propelled him all this way began to ebb. He turned to look at Anika, a question in his eyes, but she cut him off before he could say anything.

“Don’t wake her,” she said, a hint of sternness in her tone. Then she added, more gently. “Not that I think you will. I just — she needs to rest. She’s been through a lot today.”

Her words hit him hard, but he nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He wasn’t going to wake her. He just needed to see her, needed to know she was here, real, and okay.

*

Conrad stood in the doorway of her room, frozen. Belly was there, curled up under the blankets, her hair still damp and spread out over the pillow. She looked so small, so fragile, her face relaxed in the kind of sleep that comes only after exhaustion has completely taken over. His chest tightened.

He wanted to move closer, to reach out and touch her, to feel for himself that she was really here, but he didn’t dare. The last thing he wanted was to wake her. And, if he was honest, he wasn’t sure she’d want him to.

Instead, he stayed there, hovering in the threshold like some kind of intruder. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he watched her breathe, slow and steady, the sight of her both grounding and unbearable. His eyes darted toward her hand, barely visible above the blanket’s edge, and he had to fight the impulse to take it in his own. 

From behind him, he felt the weight of Anika’s gaze. She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, letting him linger for a moment longer. Finally, when he turned away and eased the door closed with painstaking slowness, she broke the silence.

“You ran the whole way here, didn't you?” she asked, her voice light but tinged with amusement as she gave him a once-over. Her eyes lingered on the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his chest, the way his shoulders still heaved slightly from exertion.

Conrad let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sigh. He didn’t answer, but the expression on his face said enough.

Anika shook her head, smirking faintly as she gestured towards the bathroom. “You should take a shower,” she said simply. “You look like you just finished a marathon. You’ll scare her if she wakes up and sees you like this.”

He just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything just yet. 

*

Conrad wiped a hand across the fogged-up mirror, the condensation smearing under his palm until the reflection came into view. The harsh light above the sink cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting every crease, every line, every sign of wear that the day had etched into him.

The shower had rinsed away the sweat and grime, but it hadn’t done much for his appearance. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles carving deep hollows beneath them. His skin looked pale, almost ashen, and his hair hung in damp, messy strands that clung to his forehead. He looked rough — like someone who’d been through hell and back, and maybe hadn’t quite made it all the way out.

He leaned closer to the mirror, his hands gripping the edge of the sink as he stared at himself. His reflection didn’t just look exhausted; it looked older, worn down. Like he’d aged twenty years in a single day.

The weight of it all hit him again, pressing down on his shoulders until they slumped. He dragged a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, but it did nothing to help. The man staring back at him in the mirror didn’t look like someone Belly would want to see when she woke up.

*

He’d given in, the pull of being close to her too strong to resist. He was stretched out on the bed next to her, his head rested on the pillow, just inches away from hers, close enough to feel the faint warmth of her breath but not so close that he’d risk waking her.

His eyes traced the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, and the faint crease in her brow that hadn’t entirely smooth out, even in sleep. He didn’t want to close his eyes. Not even for a second. The though of missing this, of missing her, felt unbearable.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains, but it was enough. Enough for him to see her, to drink her in.

Sleep tugged at the edges of his consciousness, heavy and insistent, but he refused to give in. He could sleep later, another time, when the world wasn’t so fragile, when she wasn’t so close and so far all at once. For now, he would settle for this — just watching her, never taking his eyes off her, afraid that if he did, she might slip away again.

Belly’s eyes fluttered open, her mind still tangled in the haze of sleep. At first, she wasn’t sure where she was. She blinked, trying to clear the fog in her mind, but her thoughts were sluggish, not quite ready to make sense of what she was seeing. And then, she saw him.

Conrad was lying next to her, his presence so solid, so real. But the way he looked — so peaceful, his face relaxed in a way she’d never seen before — made her question everything. She hadn’t expected to find him here, not like this.

She blinked a few times more, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe this wasn’t real at all. Dreams like this felt so vivid, so tangible, and in a way, this moment felt like one of those surreal dreams that she’d wake from, only to realise it had never happened.

She couldn’t resist. Tentatively, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his face, lightly stroking his cheek. He was so warm under her touch, his skin impossibly soft. A small, contented smile tugged at her lips as she traced the curve of his jaw, completely unaware of how her touch sent a shiver through him.

It felt perfect, as if she was floating in a world of her own. She smiled to herself, convinced now more than ever that this was a dream. And if it was, then there was no reason not to be bolder, to let herself feel free in a way she hadn’t allowed in reality.

Her smile widened as she traced the line of his face once more. Conrad shifted slightly, his eyes blinking open to the sight of her. At first, there was a moment of disorientation, but then his eyes locked with her, and a quiet, sleeping smile spread across his face.

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Belly couldn’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy. “Hi,” she replied, her tone almost giddy, as though she were letting herself embrace the bliss of this dream.

Her fingers hovered for a moment, almost as if testing the air, before she slowly, almost hesitantly, reached out again. Her fingertips brushed over his lips, the sensation sending a jolt through her. They were softer than she remembered, warmer than she had expected. She lingered there, tracing the outline of his lips with the gentlest of touches, feeling a sense of wonder at how real he felt beneath her fingertips.

“You know,” she murmured softly, as if talking to herself, “I think about kissing you a lot. More than I probably should.” She chuckled softly, almost apologetically, but the warmth in her voice betrayed the vulnerability she was finally allowing herself to express.

Her thumb ran over his bottom lip, the softness of it making her heart skip a beat. “Your lips… they’re so soft. So perfect. Like — like they were made for me, you know?”

She paused, the words hanging in the air, feeling both dangerous and freeing at the same time. “I can’t help but miss the way they felt against mine.”

Her gaze softened, and she smiled to herself, her chest tightening with the weight of her unspoken desires. Then, with a soft breath, she looked at him, her eyes full of quiet resolve. “But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Because this isn’t real.” She almost laughed at the absurdity of it, the logic of it somehow comforting her.

“Fuck it,” she whispered, her fingers slipping away from his lips as she moved closer, her breath catching in her throat.

And without another word, she closed the distance, leaning in and kissing him.

Her fingers rested against his cheek, her body pressing closer, feeling the warmth of him against her as if he were the only thing that existed in the universe. She couldn’t help but smile against his lips, a slow, contented curl of her mouth. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to let go, because everything about this felt right in a way that nothing else ever had.

This was a nice dream.

She had spent years dreaming about kissing Conrad — fantasising about what it would feel like to have him this close again, to feel the pressure of his lips, the warmth of his breath against hers. But none of those dreams had ever come close to this.

Her heart hammered in her chest as her hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if trying to convince herself that this wasn’t really happening. The kiss deepened, and with every second, the certainty grew. She wasn’t asleep anymore. This wasn’t a fantasy.

It was real. And it was everything.

What was she supposed to do with this? Her lips were still moving against his, soft and slow, but her thoughts were anything but. Should she pull away? Had she crossed a line? Had they both? What happened next?

This wasn’t a dream she could wake up from and laugh about later, a fleeting fantasy she could tuck away into the safe corners of her mind. This was Conrad, really Conrad, and they were kissing, here and now, and there was no undoing it.

A part of her wanted to pull back, to give herself space to think, to breathe, to figure out what came next. But her body wasn’t cooperating. Her hands were still tangled in his hair, her lips still chasing the warmth of his, her heart still pulling her closer to him with every beat.

And then there was him. 

The way he kissed her back — sure and steady, but somehow tender, like he was trying to tell her something he couldn’t put into words. Like he’d been waiting for this, too.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession. 

And that realisation overwhelmed her. She had been so swept up in the feel of him — the warmth of his lips, the way his hands had settled on her waist as though he had no intention of letting go. But now, it hit her hard: this wasn’t just her. This wasn’t one-sided. Conrad was here, with her, meeting her halfway, pulling her closer.

The way he was holding her now, his hands firm, his fingers pressing gently onto her sides — it set her nerves on fire. She felt as though she were burning up from the inside out.

Her heart raced, and before she could stop herself, instinct took over. She began to pull back, her lips breaking from his just enough to create space, just enough to breathe. But before she could fully pull away, his lips were there again, pressing gently against hers, chasing her. The softness of his kiss felt like a question — as if asking if she really wanted to stop, as if he was asking her to stay.

That was all the encouragement she needed. If he didn’t want to stop, then neither would she. Her hands slid back up to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his with more urgency.

The kiss deepened, the softness giving way to something more intense, more consuming. Her heart pounded in her chest, matching the rhythm of the heat building between them. She titled her head, opening herself to him, and he responded in kind, his hands tightening on her waist as if anchoring her there, like letting go wasn’t an option.

She felt the shift in him, the way his restraint began to waver. His touch grew firmer, his kisses more insistent, and it sent a shiver coursing through her. Everything about him felt overwhelming — the way his lips moved against hers, the heat radiating from his body, the low hum in his throat when she pressed closer. 

The rush of the moment made her bold. Without thinking, Belly shifted, climbing onto his lap, her knees settling on either side of him. The movement made her towel slip away, pooling around her hips. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Not when his hands slid up her sides, steadying her as if to keep her there, as if he couldn’t let go.

Her heart was racing, her hands framing his face as she kissed him again, deeper this time, pouring every unspoken word, every long-buried feeling into it. His breath hitched against her mouth, and she felt the way his body tensed beneath her. For a moment, she thought he might pull her closer, but then his hands moved, gently cupping her face.

Conrad broke the kiss, leaning back just enough to look at her. His forehead rested against hers as they both caught their breath, their chests rising and falling in time. His eyes searched hers, his gaze heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. She stayed still, waiting, her lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

And then he sighed her name, low and strained, like it was an effort to say. “Belly.”

The sound of it sent a jolt through her, but the way he said it — soft, almost pained — made her pause. His thumb brushed her cheek, his hands still steadying her, but there was a tension in him now, as though he were trying to reign himself in.

“We should—“ he started, his voice hoarse, but he stopped, his words hanging between them. “Stop.”

The words made her chest tighten, but she shook her head, her hands gripping his shoulders to steady herself. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, her voice quiet but sure. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he didn’t want this as much as she did. But all she saw was conflict, a war he seemed to be fighting within himself.

Conrad’s hands still rested gently on her face, his thumbs stroking her skin like he was trying to calm them both. “We need to talk,” he said finally, his voice tinged with both urgency and reluctance.

Belly swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I know,” she admitted, her lips curving into a faint, almost nervous smile. “I know we need to talk.”

Her hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. She leaned in, her forehead brushing his, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But right now? Talking is the last thing I want to do with you.”

She felt him tense beneath her, saw the way his jaw tightened, his resolve wavering as her words sank in. For a moment, it seemed like he might resist, might try again to be the voice of reason. But then, softly, he whispered, “Okay.”

The single word barely had time to register before his lips were on hers, crushing into her with a hunger that stole her breath. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful — it was raw, desperate, as if he’d finally let himself give in to everything he’d been holding back.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over her bare shoulders, her waist, down her back, pulling her closer like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them. She responded just as fervently, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him, her towel long forgotten.

The sheets rustled beneath them as they tumbled back onto the mattress, Conrad’s weight settling over her, his kisses growing more insistent, more demanding.

Belly’s breath caught as his hand slid down her body, fingertips grazing over her skin before sliding to her thigh. He lifted it gently, guiding it to wrap around his hip, their bodies aligning in a seamless movement that felt like it was meant to be. Every subtle shift, every brush of his lips against hers, every touch of his hands made her feel like she was coming back to herself, coming back to him.

It wasn’t just physical; it was as though their souls had known each other in a way their bodies hadn’t forgotten. It was a rhythm they didn’t need to learn again, a language that transcended words, one that felt as natural as breathing.

In the press of his body against hers, in the fire of their kiss, in the way their hearts seemed to beat in perfect time, Belly felt it — the feeling of being whole, of being completely in sync with someone. She had spent so long trying to piece herself together, trying to fill the empty spaces inside her, but with him, everything clicked into place.

The world outside of them ceased to exist. There was no past, no future — only the here are now. This was where she was supposed to be. She felt seen, she felt wanted, and more than anything, she felt whole.

Belly woke slowly, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she didn’t move, her mind still caught in that hazy space between dreaming and waking. Then she felt it — the solid warmth wrapped around her, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed against her back, the unmistakable weight on an arm draped over her waist.

Conrad.

Her heart skipped, her breath catching as the memories of the night before flooded back. The way he’d kissed her, the way he’d held her, the way they’d come together like there was no space left for the world outside of them. And now, waking in his arms, it felt like all of it had been real. Not a dream. Not a fleeting moment. Real.

She turned her head slightly, careful not to disturb him, her cheek brushing against his forearm. He was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, his face relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in years. The sight of him like this, so peaceful, so close, send a wave of warmth through her chest.

Her fingers moved tentatively, brushing against his hand where it rested on her stomach. She felt his grip tighten slightly in response, a reflex even in his sleep, as if his body knew hers was there and didn’t want to let go. The thought made her smile softly.

But as much as she wanted to stay wrapped in the warmth of Conrad’s embrace, her body had other plans. The growing pressure in her bladder made it impossible to ignore. She groaned quietly, reluctant to leave the cocoon they had created, but there was no getting around it.

Carefully, she reached down to gently lift his arm from where it draped over her waist. His grip resisted slightly, a sleepy murmur escaping his lips as he instinctively tightened his hold. Her heart clenched at the sound — so soft, so vulnerable — but she pressed on, shifting his arm slowly until she was able to slip free.

One she was out of his grasp, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand, glancing back at him to make sure he was still asleep. Conrad stirred faintly, his hand searching for the space she’d just vacated before settling against the mattress. His brow furrowed for a moment, and Belly hesitated, but he didn’t wake.

She’d barely made it halfway across the room when his voice, soft and groggy, stopped her in her tracks.

“Belly?”

She turned, startled, to find Conrad sitting up slightly, his hair messy, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep. “Where are you going?” His voice was soft but edged with worry, his brow furrowing like he thought she might vanish if he looked away.

She couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of her. “I’m just going to the bathroom. I need to pee,” she explained, her voice light. “I’m not sneaking out on you, I promise.”

Conrad blinked at her, processing her words, and then his shoulders relaxed visibly. “Oh,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face as he settled back against the pillows. “Okay. But you’re coming back?”

“Of course I am,” she said with a soft smile, crossing back to the bed and leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

He gave her a sleepy grin, his eyes fluttering shut again. “I already miss you.”

*

When Belly re-entered the room, the door clicking softly behind her, the air felt different. It wasn’t cold or unwelcoming, but there was an undeniable tension, a weight of unspoken thoughts hanging between them. Conrad was sitting up in bed now, the sheet pooling around his waist, his bare chest catching the morning light. His hair was still tousled from sleep, but his eyes were wide awake as they met hers.

Belly hesitated just inside the door, her hand still resting on the doorknob. She felt exposed in a way she hadn’t expected, like every thought in her head might spill out if she so much as took a step forward. The events of the night before felt vivid and distant all at once, the memory of his touch still imprinted on her skin, but now there was the daunting reality of the morning after.

“Hey,” she said softly, breaking the silence, though it felt like such a small word for everything she was feeling.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice low but steady. His gaze stayed fixed on her, searching her face as though trying to gauge where her head was at. It wasn’t accusatory or impatient, just… thoughtful. Careful.

Belly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the awkwardness thick in the air. She wasn’t sure if she should move toward him or stay rooted where she was. They had been so close, so connected, only hours ago, but now there was this space between them — not just physical but emotional, filled with unasked questions and unspoken feelings.

Conrad’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of the sheet, his expression unreadable. “You okay?” he asked finally, his voice quiet but laced with something she couldn’t quite place. Concern? Hope?

She nodded quickly, almost too quickly. “Yeah. I’m okay. Are you?”

He paused for a beat, then gave a small, almost hesitant smile. “Yeah. I am.”

They let the words settle between them, the quiet stretching out, not quite comfortable but not unbearable either. It was fragile, like the moment might tip in any direction if one of them pushed too hard or too fast.

And then, as if on cue, they both opened their mouths at the same time.

“I’m sorry—“

“About last night—“

Their voices tangled awkwardly, and they both stopped, blinking at each other before a breath of nervous laughter escaped Belly’s lips. Conrad gave a small chuckle too, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to gather his thoughts.

Belly took a step closer to the bed, her fingers twisting at the hem of her shirt. The movement made her feel exposed again, her nerves jangling, but she pushed through it. The space between them felt less daunting now, though it still buzzed with uncertainty.

“You first,” she said softly, her tone gentle but steady.

Conrad’s smile faded slightly, his expression growing serious as his gaze fixed on her. For a moment, he hesitated, as though weighing his words carefully. Then he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just a little. 

“I don’t want you to think I regret it,” Conrad said, his voice steady but with a weight that made Belly’s chest tighten. “Because I could never regret you.”

“I don’t regret it either,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment as she processed everything. She could feel the heat of his words in the pit of her stomach, and it both soothed and stirred something deep inside her.

Conrad shifted, sitting up straighter, but his gaze didn’t leave hers. “Good,” he said softly, the word more of a relief than a declaration. “But, last night — we shouldn’t have.”

Belly’s brow furrowed at his words, her chest tightening again, but this time with a mix of confusion and frustration. “Wait, what?” she asked, her voice soft but with a sharp edge. She couldn’t quite process what he was saying, the confusion growing with every word. “Conrad, I…“

He sighed, his fingers curling into the sheet beneath him, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. “You were in a vulnerable place last night,” he continued, low and careful. “And I don’t want to be someone who takes advantage of that. I don’t want you to think —“

She cut him off, shaking her head as she stepped closer to him, her arms folding across her chest as if to protect herself from the sudden sting of his words. “No, Conrad,” she said firmly, meeting his eyes. “You don’t get to say that.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she refused to let him finish. “I was the one who kissed you. I was the one who wanted it. You didn’t —“

His mouth opened slightly, his face full of regret, but before he could speak, she interrupted him again, her words spilling out in a rush. “You don’t get to apologise for this. I’m not some… some fragile thing you have to protect. I wanted it, Conrad. I needed it.”

He stilled, looking at her, his expression softening but still full of uncertainty. “But—“

Belly shook her head again, her hands held out in frustration, not at him, but at the situation. “I’m not sorry about last night. Why are you?”

The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the world outside, but inside, it was anything but quiet. The air between them buzzed with tension, the kind that prickled at the edges of her skin and made her pulse quicken. Neither of them said a word, but their eyes locked, refusing to look away.

Conrad’s jaw tightened, his throat working as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His chest rose and fell in steady, deliberate breaths, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on the sheet. The intensity of his stare wasn’t angry or distant, but conflicted, like he was at war with himself. She could see it — the way his defences were cracking.

Her question hung in the air, unanswered but not ignored. His hesitation wasn’t because he was sorry, not really. Belly could feel it. It wasn’t regret she saw in his eyes; it was something close to fear and overwhelming protectiveness that made her chest ache. He wasn’t sorry for being with her.

But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want his guilt or his restraint. She wanted him — all of him — without the hesitation, without the self-doubt that lingered in his gaze.

Still, they didn’t speak. Just stared at each other, the air thick and heavy, tension brewing and building with every passing second. Her heart hammered in her chest, a steady, insistent rhythm, and she wondered if he could hear it, if he could feel it as clearly as she could feel her desire for him, her certainty in what she wanted.

And what she wanted was him. Not his apologies, not his attempts to shield her, but the raw, unfiltered truth of him. The man who had kissed her back like she was the only thing that mattered.

Conrad’s gaze softened, the uncertainty in his eyes slowly giving way to something else — maybe acceptance, maybe understanding. He took a deep breath, and then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, his voice quiet, almost like a whisper, as though he were conceding to the fact that he couldn’t argue with her anymore. There was no more apology in his tone, no more regret. It was just acceptance — of her, of the situation, of them. 

Belly let out a small, almost relieved sigh, the air in her lungs finally feeling less suffocating. “Okay.”

She moved slowly, almost cautiously, back to the bed, her bare feet making soft, barely audible sounds against the floor. Each step felt deliberate, as though she were crossing an invisible threshold, one that couldn’t be uncrossed once she reached the other side. When she stopped at the edge of the mattress, she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat.

Finally, she lowered herself onto the bed, perching on top of the covers beside him. The mattress gave slightly under her weight, the subtle shift making her acutely aware of every inch of space — or lack thereof — between them. She folded her hands in her lap, her fingers tangling together as she stared down at them, like the answers to the chaos inside her might be found in the small movements of her own hands.

She could feel the heat of him next to her, close enough that their arms might brush if either of them shifted even slightly. Her pulse quickened at the thought, but she didn’t dare shift. Not yet. 

The tension between them hadn’t lessened — if anything, it had only thickened, the quiet buzz of the room amplifying every unspoken word.

Her eyes stayed fixed downward, trained on the pale sunlight filtering through the curtains and tracing faint patterns on the floorboards. It was easier to focus on that, easier than facing the thoughts spiralling in her mind — or the boy sitting just inches away.

She could feel his gaze, the way it lingered on her profile, on the curve of her shoulder, the line of her jaw. It was as though he was trying to figure her out, to piece together the things she wasn’t saying, and the thought of meeting his eyes, of facing whatever questions he might have, made her chest tighten.

Belly had a lot to explain. So much, in fact, that she didn’t know where to start. The words were tangled in her head, fighting for attention, but none of them seemed right. None of them felt like the right way to open up about everything — about the mess of feelings that had been building up for weeks, years even, and now, suddenly, they were all pressing down on her at once.

Once she spoke, once she let the words out, there would be no taking them back.

He was waiting, and the longer he waited, the more the weight of the question seemed to press on both of them. His gaze never left her face, studying her like he was trying to find some kind of clue, some small indication that she might be ready to break the silence and explain.

She felt like a coward.

She lolled her head to the side, the movement slow and deliberate, her neck stretching slightly as she shifted her gaze to him. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to study him, taking in every detail as if she might never have the chance again. The curve of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble dusting his chin, the way his hair refused to stay in place no matter how often he pushed it back. It fell into his face again now, soft and unruly, framing his features in a way that felt achingly familiar.

But it was his eyes that captured her and held her still. 

Her breath hitched, and she blinked, startled by how easily the tension inside her seemed to ease in his presence. There was something grounding about the way he looked at her, as though he were reminding her, without words, that this was him. Just him. The boy who knew her better than anyone.

She let her shoulders relax, her hands unclenching from where they had been fidgeting in her lap. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she gave him a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that she was ready — or as ready as she could be.

Conrad noticed immediately. His posture shifted, his body leaning slightly closer, not intrusively, but in a way that made it clear he was listening. Fully present. He hesitated for a moment, his lips parting as if to speak, but then he stopped himself, his brow furrowing slightly.

It was as though he was searching for the right way to ask. 

“What were you apologising for?”

Belly let out a soft, awkward laugh, her fingers nervously twisting the blanket beneath her. “Where do I even start?” she murmured, glancing up at him for just a moment before quickly looking away.

Conrad didn’t say anything. He simply extended his arm, his fingers brushing lightly against hers before gently resting over her hand. The warmth of his touch immediately settled something in her. For the briefest second, it felt like everything else — the confusion, the anxiety, the fear — faded into the background. 

“I shouldn’t have run out on you yesterday,” she said, the words coming out more quietly than she intended. Belly met his eyes now, her gaze steady but not without it’s own hesitation. “I didn’t even want to leave. Not really.”

She shifted slightly, her fingers rubbing the back of her neck as though trying to ease the tension that had settled there. 

“I just… I didn’t know what to do with —” she paused, looking for the right words, but they didn’t come easily. “With all the feelings,” she finished, her voice shaking just a little. Her eyes dropped to their joined hands, and she let out a shaky breath. “It was too much. I was overwhelmed, and I couldn’t think straight. So I just ran.”

Conrad’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand, his voice soft as he broke the silence. “It’s okay, Belly,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a reassuring half-smile. “You don’t have to —“

But she shook her head, cutting him off before he could finish. “No, it’s not,” she said firmly, her voice trembling slightly but steady enough to hold conviction. She pulled her hand away from his, only to wring her fingers together in her lap. “I keep running out on you, Conrad. And it’s not fair to you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, his lips parting to respond, but she pushed forward, not letting him speak just yet.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush, like she was afraid they might get stuck if she didn’t say them now. “I’m scared to lose you again. And every time things get real between us — when it feels like we might actually be okay — we mess it up.” Her gaze flickered, as though searching his face for some sign that he understood. “But if I keep running, one day I’m going to turn around and you won’t be there.”

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, but she didn’t look away.

Conrad leaned back slightly, taking in her words, a faint look of surprise crossing his face. But then, to her confusion, he chuckled — a low, warm sound that seemed completely out of place.

“What?” she asked, blinking at him.

He shook his head, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just thinking,” he said, his voice lighter now, “that maybe you’re just giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your own medicine?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, his expression softening as his eyes met hers. “I’ve done my fair share of running out on you, Bells. Probably more than my fair share, if I’m being honest.“

There was a noticeable shift in Conrad as he spoke, the playful edge in his voice slowly fading, replaced by something heavier, more real. The casualness he often wore like armour seemed to slip away, leaving him open, vulnerable in a way Belly hadn’t seen before.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as if gathering the courage to continue. “I’ve run so many times,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, tinged with the weight of his own self-awareness.

“Every time things got too hard, every time I felt like I wasn’t enough, or like…” He trailed off for a moment. “Like I’d just end up hurting you worse by staying.”

His gaze dropped briefly, his jaw tightening as if the very thought of leaving her had left its mark. When his eyes returned to hers, there was something raw in them, a vulnerability he didn’t often show.

“That morning of the wedding?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, as if the memory itself was something fragile. “I walked away. I told myself it was for you, that it was what you wanted. But the truth? I didn’t know how to stay. I didn’t know how to look at you, standing there, about to marry Jeremiah, and still hold myself together.” He voice faltered slightly, and he paused, running his hand over his face, trying to soothe out the ache in his chest. 

Belly’s chest tightened, the air between them feeling thicker, heavier with everything left unsaid.

“And it wasn’t just that morning,” he continued, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I’ve been running for years. From you. From us. From the idea of getting it wrong, of hurting you the way I always seem to.” 

His voice cracked a little, but he didn’t stop, the words spilling out as if he couldn’t hold them back anymore. “I thought walking away would somehow make things easier for you, that I was saving you from me. But it just made everything worse. Every time.”

Her eyes stung, the familiar burn of unshed tears rising, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. But they didn’t listen. The tears welled anyway, spilling over before she could stop them.

She finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “Connie…”

It came out softer than she’d intended, almost fragile, as though the name itself was a lifeline.

Conrad’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a bittersweet softness in his expression as he reached up to swipe his thumb gentle across her cheek, catching the tear. “Don’t cry,” he said quietly.

He paused for a moment, the unspoken tension between them heavy in the silence. His smile wavered, the teasing spark in his eyes dimming briefly. But then, after a steadying breath, the corner of his lips tugged back into a lopsided grin.

“You know,” he said, his voice lightening just enough to pull them both back from the edge of the heaviness they’d fallen into. “We really are perfect for each other. Both total disasters.”

Belly let out a shaky laugh, the sound caught somewhere between a sob and something lighter, more like relief. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold herself together, but the laughter trembled in her chest, escaping anyway.

Without thinking too much about it, she leaned toward him. The warmth of him — solid and grounding — drew her closer until her shoulder brushed against his. She hesitated for just a moment before letting her head rest gently on his shoulder. The movement felt natural, like slipping into place.

Conrad tensed every so slightly, his breath hitching, a barely-there sound that gave him away. But the pause was fleeting. He shifted, relaxing as though her closeness was something he had been waiting for.

Neither of them spoke. The quiet wrapped around them like a soft, suffocating blanket, leaving only the sound of their breaths filling the space around them. Belly let her eyes flutter close — his skin was warm against her cheek, bare, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. 

The world outside seemed impossibly distant in that moment.

Then, after a moment, her lips twitched upward, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes. She shifted slightly, lifting her head just enough to poke him lightly in the chest. “You’ve changed,” she said, her voice carrying a playful lilt but also a thread of sincerity that cut through the teasing.

Conrad blinked, tilting his head to look at her with a puzzled expression. “I have?” he questioned, his brows furrowing slightly.

“Yeah,” Belly said, her smile softening as she shook her head. “It’s a good thing,” she added quickly, in case he took it the wrong way. “Therapy — it’s been good for you.”

His confusion deepened, his expression flickering between surprise and disbelief. “Therapy?” He repeated, his tone quieter now, tinged with curiosity. “How did you—?”

Belly’s face flushed as the realisation hit her — she had just inadvertently brought up the letters. The letters she wasn’t supposed to have read.  She bit her lip, nervously glancing at him as embarrassment crept up her neck.

“You… you mentioned it in one of your letters.” Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her blanket, unsure of how to continue without making things even more awkward.

There was a brief pause, the silence stretching just long enough for her to feel her heart race. And then, as if the realisation had just struck him, Conrad’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he murmured, his voice a little distant as he processed what she’d said.

“I didn’t mean to bring that up,” she muttered, her words tumbling out in a rush. She shifted awkwardly on the bed, feeling her cheeks burn with the weight of her own mistake. She hadn’t meant to make thing uncomfortable, especially not after everything they’d just shared.

Conrad, however, just smiled, a small, understanding curve of his lips, and reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “We can talk about them.”

Belly blinked, surprised by his response. She hadn’t expected him to be so calm about it. In fact, she half-expected him to shut it down, to brush it off like it didn’t matter, but instead, he seemed genuinely unbothered.

But then she remembered her own words — he had changed. It was a good thing. This wasn’t the same Conrad she’d tiptoed around for years, afraid to say the wrong thing, scared he’d shut down or pull away. This was a version of him she could actually talk to, someone who met her in the middle instead of hiding behind walls she could never climb.

Her gaze flickered to him, studying his face. He wasn’t guarded like before. His shoulders weren’t tight with whatever storm he used to carry. He was sitting there, open, his expression curious but patient, waiting for her to find her words.

So she did.

“Why didn’t you ever send them?” she asked quietly, her voice careful, almost hesitant. “The letters, I mean.”

Conrad reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her shoulder before catching a loose strand of her hair. He twirled it absently between his fingers, his touch gentle, almost absentminded, as if the action gave him something to focus on while he searched for the right words.

“I wanted to,” he admitted, his voice soft. His eyes were fixed on the strand of her hair. “I’d sit down and write them, and every time, I’d tell myself ‘This is it. This is the one I’m going to send.’” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile, his lips tugging up for only a moment before it faded.

“But then,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I’d read the words back, and it was like… I don’t know. It felt like too much. Or not enough. Like sending them would just make everything harder.” His fingers stilled in her hair for a moment, then fell back to his lap.

“I always chickened out,” he admitted with a low exhale, his gaze flickering to hers briefly before dropping. “I’d hide the letters in my apartment, in drawers, between books — anywhere I could stuff them away and try to forget they existed. But I never really could.” His lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile.

Belly nodded slowly, her head dipping in small, tentative movements, as though agreeing with something she couldn’t fully grasp. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to understand — she did. But the explanation he gave didn’t completely fit with the words she had read. The letters he had written — at least the ones she had read — hadn’t seemed fearful at all. They’ve been raw, open, and so achingly honest.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. The words she wanted to say felt tangled in her throat. Had she ever told him how scared she’d been? How lost she’d felt without him? 

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket draped across her legs, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to shake, as she glanced up at him. Her voice, when it came, was soft but steady, carrying a vulnerability she couldn’t hide.

“I wish you would’ve sent them,” she said, the words falling quietly into the space between them. Her gaze met his, her eyes searching his face as though trying to find something unspoken there. “I would’ve liked to get them. To hear from you like that.”

Her voice faltered, a note of regret creeping in, and she shifted slightly, her fingers tightening on the fabric. “If I had…” she paused, swallowing hard, then pressing on, her voice smaller now. “Maybe I wouldn’t have let so much time go by. Maybe I wouldn’t have stayed so far away from you.”

Conrad looked at her, his brows knitting together, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place — confusion, maybe, or disbelief. It was as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. 

He hadn’t thought about this, she realised. Hadn’t thought about the possibility that she might have wanted to hear from him just as desperately as he had wanted to hear from her. That she had been waiting for something that never came.

“I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Belly drew in a shaky breath, her fingers moving almost on their own. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out, intertwining her hand with his. The contact felt delicate, like holding onto something fragile but infinitely precious. Something she wasn’t sure she deserved but wasn’t ready to let go of either.

She glanced up at him, her heart thundering in her chest so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles, a small, nervous motion meant to steady herself as much as him. She was looking for something — anything — that would give her a clue to what he was feeling. 

For a long, breathless moment, Conrad didn’t move. His eyes flickered down to their joined hands, and Belly felt her chest tighten, the weight of her vulnerability pressing harder against her ribs. She had laid her heart bare, offering it to him in trembling hands, knowing full well the risk it carried.

Please, she thought, the silent plea looping in her mind like a mantra. Please say something. Please don’t pull away. 

Then, slowly, his fingers shifted. Curling more firmly around hers. Deliberately. He squeezed her hand, gentle but sure, and the tightness that had gripped her chest began to ease.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and there was something in them — something soft, something open — that made her heart stumble. He didn’t speak, but the way he held her hand, the way his thumb brushed lightly against her skin, said enough.

Hours had passed, though neither of them had any sense of time. 

Their legs were an unhurried tangle beneath the blanket, his calf resting against hers, her toes brushing his ankle. Not one of them seemed inclined to move or untangle the mess of limbs that had become a natural part of their closeness. Their bodies pressed together, every inch of space between them erased as though it had never mattered.

Belly’s lips curved into a faint smile, one she wasn’t even fully aware of. She didn’t think she’d ever felt this warm, this safe, this… alive. She let out a quiet, contented sigh, her hand coming up to rest gently on his chest, just above his heart.

Conrad’s voice broke the lull, carrying a playful undertone that made her smile even before she processed the words. “Okay,” he said, his fingers pausing mid-stroke through her hair. “My turn to ask something.”

She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, her brows lifting in invitation. “Sure. Go ahead,” she said, her voice warm and unguarded.

He shifted slightly, his lips quirking up into a grin that she couldn’t quite read. “How the hell did you end up under that table?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, and Belly’s mouth parted in surprise before she dissolved into laughter, her body shaking against him. She buried her face in his chest, half mortified. 

“You’re going to laugh at me,” she muttered, the words muffled by the warmth of his skin.

Conrad tipped his head down, his voice low and teasing. “I won’t,” he promised, raising a hand to draw an invisible X over his heart. “Cross my heart. No laughing, I swear.”

She hesitated, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket as if it could somehow shield her from the embarrassment she was about to unleash. “I was upset,” she began, “because I thought Agnes was your girlfriend.”

For a moment, Conrad just stared at her, as if the words hadn’t quite registered. And then it hit him. The first laugh escaped, sharp and loud, following by another, and another, until he was full-on laughing, his head tipping back against the pillow as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Conrad!” Belly smacked his chest, though her own lips twitched despite herself. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, though the grin he wore and the way his shoulders still shook with the remnants of his laughter suggested otherwise. “I really am,” he added, though he didn’t even try to sound convincing.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the pillows, propping himself up on one elbow as his teasing gaze settled on her. “But seriously,” he said, his tone incredulous now, though the warmth never left his voice. “Why the hell would you think Agnes was my girlfriend?”

Belly groaned, turning her face away as if that would help her escape the embarrassment blooming across her cheeks.

“Belly,” Conrad pressed, his tone softer this time but no less curious. “Come on.” 

She groaned louder, her voice muffled by the blanket. “Can’t we just… pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a laugh, shifting closer and tugging gently at the blanket she was trying to hide under.

Belly sighed, the sound muffled against the blanket as she peeked out just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He wasn’t teasing now, wasn’t laughing — he was just watching her, his expression open and patient, waiting for her to explain.

“It was when I first moved to New York,” she began, her voice a little shakier than she’d expected. “Laurel had mentioned what hospital you were working at. So — I kind of hunted you down.”

Conrad blinked, his brow quirking slightly, but he stayed silent, giving her the space to keep going.

“I found myself in the lobby,” she continued, her voice picking up speed as if she wanted to rip the Band-Aid off as quickly as possible. “Of the hospital. I wasn’t even sure what my plan was — I didn’t know what service you were on or where I’d even find you.” She paused, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “But it didn’t matter, because —”

Her lips twitched into a small, self deprecating smile, and for a fleeting moment, she found the courage to glance up at him. She looked into his face, hoping for some kind of reaction, anything to make her feel less vulnerable.

But Conrad didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on her, warm and unflinching, his expression patient as he waited for her to continue.

She exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly as she plunged forward. “As soon as I walked through the front doors, I heard your voice. And then I saw you.”

His brows lifted slightly, his eyes widening as her words started to paint a picture in his mind.

“You were there,” she said softly, her eyes dropping to where her fingers twisted the blanket. “With her. Arms linked. Laughing about something.”

Belly swallowed hard, willing the heat in her cheeks to recede. “It just… I don’t know. It looked like something. Like more than… you know, coworkers or friends. And I just assumed —“

Conrad expression shifted as he finished her sentence for her, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of something deeper. “You assumed she was my girlfriend.”

Belly nodded, her eyes meeting his but quickly darting away again. His expression wasn’t one of anger or frustration, but something more — sadness, perhaps, or a deep longing for something that never was.

He sighed, his breath quiet but full of meaning. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, not knowing exactly what for but feeling like it was her fault somehow.

But Conrad shook his head, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You don’t have to apologise. I just — I understand. It makes sense.”

Belly bit her lip. “So, when you introduced me to Agnes, on what I thought was a date… I kind of, uh, freaked out.” She looked up at him, her voice a little less steady. “And got way too drunk. Which, I’m aware, is a really bad coping mechanism, and something I should definitely work on,” she added with a nervous laugh, trying to deflect from the vulnerability that had crept into the conversation.

Conrad raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile, but there was still a seriousness in his gaze. “I say this with love, Bells,” he said, his voice calm, “but you have a really bad habit of making assumptions. Especially when it comes to me.”

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong. She had spent so much time imagining things that weren’t real, letting her fears and insecurities create scenarios that only kept her further from what she truly wanted.

She took a steadying breath, her heart heavy in her chest as she spoke. “I know,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a fragility she couldn’t hide. “I know I make assumptions… and I shouldn’t. I just — it’s not easy for me.” She glanced up at him, her eyes soft, unsure of how to convey the rawness inside her. “The truth is, I’ve never felt for anyone else the way I feel for you. And the fear of losing you, it just heightens everything. All my insecurities.”

Her words lingered in the air like the fading echo of a secret, too tender to be spoken aloud but too real to ignore.

Conrad opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something — but then he hesitated, the words held back by an invisible wall. His lips parted and then closed again, leaving the space between them still, pregnant with the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

Instead of speaking, his gaze fell to the delicate necklace resting against her collarbone. His fingers brushed over it lightly, absently tracing the curve of the pendant, as if he were finding comfort in the simple contact.

The necklace had always been more than just jewellery. 

It was a symbol of their love.

As he turned the pendant between his fingers, a soft, almost imperceptible smile began to curve his lips, reaching his eyes and creasing the corners in a way that made him look younger, lighter. It wasn’t teasing exactly — it was softer, more amused than anything else. Like he’d just remembered something.

“Wait a second,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet, though it was still low and warm. His thumb brushed over the pendant once more before he shifted his gaze back to her. “Is that what your drunk ramblings were about?”

Belly blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?” She asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

He let out a low chuckle, his hand dropping from the necklace to rest against her shoulder, his thumb brushing her skin. “Something about a shield of nurses? Does that have anything to do with…?” he trailed off,  gesturing into the air.

It hit her all at once, and her face flushed deep crimson. “Oh my god,” she groaned, her hands flying up to cover her face as if that would somehow erase the memory or, better yet, make her disappear entirely.

Conrad’s smile widened, clearly enjoying her reaction. “So, it does,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable. 

Belly groaned louder, peeking at him from between her fingers, but the way his smile grew only made her cheeks burn hotter. She tried to sink further into the bed.

“Conrad, drop it,” she muttered, her voice muffled by her hands. 

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin downright wicked now, though his tone still held its usual warmth. “What exactly is a shield of nurses? Enlighten me.”

Belly let out a sound that was somewhere between a whine and a sigh of defeat. She dropped her hands just enough to glare at him, though it lacked any real heat. “Fine,” she said, dragging the word out. “I—uh—I might have hidden behind a group of nurses in the hospital lobby so that you wouldn’t see me.”

Conrad blinked, his lips twitching as though he were trying — and failing — to hold back another laugh. “You hid behind a group of nurses?”

“Yes!” she burst out, her cheeks flaming again as she sat up slightly, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t want you to see me. I didn’t want you to know I was there.”

His expression softened, though the corners of his mouth still twitched. “So your solution was to use the hospital staff as camouflage?”

“Are you happy now?” she huffed, her arms crossing over her chest as she tried to look anywhere but at him.

“Very,” Conrad replied, his voice lower now, quieter. The teasing that had danced in his tone moments ago was gone, replaced by something softer. Something deeper. His expression shifted, his eyes searching her with an intensity that made her heat skip a beat.

Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand reaching out to brush against her arm. The touch was light, almost hesitant, as if he were giving her the chance to pull away. Instead, her breath hitched, and her arms loosened their hold on her chest.

“Belly,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Gently, he guided her gaze back to him, his hand lingering against her cheek as this thumb traced a slow, reassuring path.

Her lips parted as if to say something, but before she could find the words, he closed the space between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was soft, unhurried, and full of everything they hadn’t put into words. 

Conrad woke to the sharp, jarring sound of his alarm, pulling him from sleep too quickly. His body was slow to catch up, limbs heavy with exhaustion, his mind sluggish and tangled in the remnants of a dream he wasn’t ready to leave. He kept his closed for a moment longer, breathing deeply, as if maybe — if he stayed still enough — he could slip back under.

For a brief moment, disappointment settled in his chest — thick and suffocating — because it had all been a dream. It had to be. The softness, the warmth, the feeling of having her again — it wasn’t real.

Then he felt it.

The weight of her arm draped over his waist. The steady rise and fall of her breath against his skin. The way her fingers curled lightly at his side, as if she had fallen asleep holding onto him. In an instant, his mind cleared, the fog of sleep lifting away.

Reality slammed into him all at once.

She’s here. She’s real.

His arms tightened around her before he could think better of it, as if holding her close enough would freeze this moment in time. Keep them here, just like this, forever. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss into her hair, breathing her in, letting the moment settle deep into his bones. It was something he wanted to memorise, to lock away in his mind, to keep for the mornings when she wasn’t there.

For so long, waking up had meant facing a day without her. He had convinced himself that this — her, them — was something he had lost for good. That he had ruined it, and that he didn’t deserve another chance. But she was here now. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being surprised by it.

Then his second alarm went off.

The sound shattered the quiet, too harsh, and his body moved instinctively, breaking from their cocoon just enough to reach for his phone before it woke her. His fingers fumbled over the screen, silencing it with a sharp exhale.

Belly stirred against him, shifting slightly, her face nuzzling closer into his chest, but she didn’t wake. Her breath was slow and even, soft against his skin, and for a moment, he just watched her, mesmerised by the way she fits so perfectly against him.

He’s here. She’s here.

And for the first time in a long time, that’s enough.

His colleagues had been giving him strange looks all morning.

It probably had something to do with the uncharacteristic smile plastered on his face — a sight they weren’t exactly used to. A rare, happy Conrad. He could practically feel their whispers following him as he moved through the ward, the hushed speculation about what had changed. He was almost certain someone had muttered something about him finally getting laid.

But his grin wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about anything as crude or simple as what they assumed. It was because of her. Belly. 

His Belly. 

Word had clearly gotten around, though, because not long after, Agnes appeared on the ward, leaning casually against the counter but with a sharp glint of curiosity in her eyes. She crossed her arms, studying him like he was some kind of rare specimen in a zoo exhibit.

“So the rumours are true,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she gave him a once-over. “You’ve been replaced by an alien.”

Conrad snorted, turning away from the chart he was updating to give her a dry look. “Good morning to you too, Agnes.”

“No, seriously,” she pressed, clearly enjoying herself as she waved her hand toward him. “You’re smiling. At work. Do you know how unsettling that is for the rest of us?”

He paused for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he tried to suppress the grin threatening to take over. He truly was insufferable when he was moping over Belly — so much so that it must have been a whiplash-level shift for anyone to see him like this. Gone were the days of his brooding silences and muttered responses; now, he couldn’t help but feel lighter, less weighed down. And it showed.

“Bite me,” Conrad said, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the chart in front of him.

Agnes gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest as if he’d just delivered the most offensive blow imaginable. “Who even are you right now?” she teased, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Conrad rolled his eyes at her theatrics, his smirk widening despite himself. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

But Agnes wasn’t one to back down, especially not when her curiosity was piqued. She leaned over the counter, propping herself up on her elbows, her expression shifting from playful to genuinely intrigued. “No, seriously,” she pressed, lowering her voice slightly like she was trying to coax a secret out of him. “What happened? Is this about Belly?”

His hand stilled on the pen he was holding, and he glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned knowingly, her eyes narrowing as she pushed on. “Oh my god, it is, isn’t it?” she said, her voiced laced with excitement. “Did it finally happen?” She gestured vaguely, the implication hanging in the air.

Conrad sighed, leaning back slightly as he folded his arms over his chest. “You’re like a dog with a bone, you know that?”

“Don’t deflect,” she shot back, her grin widening. ”Spill.”

Conrad studied her for a beat, his expression thoughtful as if weighing his options. Then, with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he shrugged. “I don’t kiss and tell, Agnes.”

Agnes squealed, her excitement practically spilling over as she bounced on her heels. 

“Omg, I’m so happy for me!” she declared, grinning like a giddy schoolgirl. “After all those years of listening to you moan about losing the love of your life, I finally get to be free!”

Her arms were flailing in dramatic circles as if she were the one who had just been freed from some long, oppressive prison. It was so over-the-top that Conrad almost felt like he was watching a Broadway performance rather than talking to his friend.

“You have no idea how many hours of my life I’ve spent listening to you brood about Belly,” she continued, hands dramatically clutching her chest. “Hours, Con! I could’ve been doing literally anything else.” She gave a fake sob, theatrically wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek.

Conrad’s mouth twitched, fighting back a smile as she exaggerated each point, knowing full well she was just messing with him.“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing,” he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. 

His heart felt light in a way he hadn’t known in a long time, and as much as Agnes loved to needle him, he couldn’t bring himself to care today. His smile was too wide, his mood too high to let anything — least of all her teasing — bring him down.

*

Conrad was halfway through his shift, the hours bleeding into one another in a steady rhythm of patient checks, charting, and the low hum of medical equipment. He was in the middle of reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone buzzed, a soft vibration against the pocket of his scrubs. 

Belly.

A small jolt ran through him, the kind that made his heart beat a little faster, and he quickly unlocked his phone, eager to see what she’d sent. His fingers brushed over the words: What time do you finish work today?

His heart did that little flip again, the kind that only she could provoke, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. It felt like an unspoken question — like maybe she was missing him too, the way he’d been missing her. Just a few hours apart, and he already felt this pull, this ache that had settled in his chest the moment he walked out the door that morning.

He typed quickly, almost without thinking, his fingers moving to reply: Should be done by 7, if I’m lucky.

He sent it before he could overthink it. But then, staring at the screen, he let out a quiet laugh to himself. God, I hope I’m lucky.

All he could think about was her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, like he was the only person in the world that mattered. It wasn’t just the way she looked at him — it was the way she made him feel, like nothing else existed when she was near, when she smiled at him like that.

It was something he could never quite explain but always felt deeply, every time.

His phone buzzed again, pulling him from his thoughts. Great. I’m making dinner. Text me when you’re on your way home.

Home.

The word settled in his chest with a warmth that made him smile even wider. Home. It wasn’t just a place; it was wherever she was. Wherever they were together.

He slid his phone back into his pocket, letting out a quiet exhale, a mix of contentment and impatience. 

Seven o’clock still felt so far away.

Belly was screwed.

The recipe has seemed simple enough — clear instructions, a few ingredients, nothing complicated. She had measured everything meticulously and followed each step exactly as the book instructed. And yet, somehow, she had completely messed it up. The dough was too sticky, the sauce a lumpy, inedible mess, and the once-perfectly shaped pieces now looked like they’d been run over by a truck.

She stared down at the half-baked disaster in front of her, her stomach sinking with a heavy weight of frustration. What was she thinking? She wasn’t a chef. She wasn’t even close. But in her mind, this had seemed like the perfect way to show him — to show them — that they could do this. That they could build something solid together.

Instead, all she had managed to do was to compound her failures.

Belly sighed, wiping a hand across her face. This wasn’t just about the ruined food; it was about proving to Conrad that she was no longer the same person who always messed things up. And yet, here she was, once again creating a disaster — her specialty.

Her eyes flicked nervously to the clock. The minutes ticked by with a steady, unforgiving pace, each one making the tight knot in her chest twist a little tighter. 

Conrad would be home soon.

With one last glance at the bubbling pot and sticky dough, she reluctantly turned off the hob, the heat dissipating as she ran her hand through her hair. Her chest tightened. She had to think of something else.

She opened the cabinet doors in a hurry, scanning the shelves for something — anything — that could work. Pasta? Maybe a simple sauce? Or takeout. Takeout was always an option, right? Her mind scrambled for ideas, but nothing seemed to make her feel better. All she could think about was how badly she had messed this up.

Just as she stood there, staring blankly at the shelves, her thoughts swirling in defeat, the sound of the front door opening made her heart skip a beat.

Belly didn’t have time to react before she heart his voice, warm and familiar, calling out from the hallway. “Belly?”

She swallowed, trying to gather her composure, but she didn’t know how she could possibly explain the kitchen disaster waiting for him. But if he was shocked, or even surprised by the chaos in the kitchen, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he walked straight toward her, his steps sure and steady. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in his warmth. His embrace was grounding, as if nothing could shake him, not even the mess that surrounded them.

Belly, still covered in flour from head to toe, stiffened slightly at first, self-conscious about the mess she was wearing. But Conrad didn’t pull away, in fact, he only tightened his hold, his body pressing into hers, and she felt a quiet relief wash over her.

The flour from her clothes rubbed off onto his shirt, leaving streaks of white powder across the fabric, but he didn’t seem to care at all. He only pulled her closed, brushing his lips lightly against her forehead, a silent reassurance that none of this — the mess, the kitchen disaster, her doubts — mattered.

“Hi,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, as if asking her if she was okay.

Belly melted into the embrace, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her hands. She couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension slowly easing out of her body. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him, her eyes squeezing shut as she let out a shaky breath.

“I might’ve ruined dinner,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Conrad chuckled softly, his fingers gently threading through her hair. “I don’t care about dinner, Bells.”

She pulled back slightly, lifting her head to look at him, a small, questioning smile on her lips. But as she looked at him — his face, his hair, his shirt — her breath caught in her throat. The flour wasn’t just on his shirt; it was everywhere, dusting his hair, covering his shoulders. It looked like he’d rolled around in the stuff and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him.

“You’re covered in flour,” she said, her voice light with amusement, despite everything that had been weighing on her.

Conrad gave her a sheepish grin, brushing some flour off his sleeve. “I hate to tell you this, but so are you,” he said, his eyes twinkling with affection. “It’s even in your eyebrows — how the hell have you managed that?”

Belly’s eyes widened, and she blinked in disbelief. “What? No way.” She hurriedly reach up, running her fingers over her brows. Sure enough, there was flour in them, too. She gasped and laughed harder, shaking her head at how ridiculous they both must look.

But in that moment, none of it mattered.

She looked up at him, a playful spark igniting in her eyes as she reached behind her back, feeling the bag of flour still sitting there. “Well,” she said, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips, “Seeing as we’re already covered…”

Before Conrad could even blink, she scooped up a handful of flour and, with a wicked glint in her eyes, dumped it right onto his head.

He froze for a second, eyes wide in mock horror. “Isabel Conklin, what—”

Before he could finish the sentence, another handful of flour hit him square in the chest.

It was war.

Conrad’s grin only grew wider as he watched Belly dart around, her movement lightening quick. She was fast — too fast — but he wasn’t about to let her have the last laugh. His fingers tightened around a handful of flour, and with a swift motion, he threw it in her direction.

But she was already moving, a blur of motion, ducking to the side. He only managed to catch a glimpse of her retreating figure before she was weaving behind him again, her flour-covered hands leaving another streak across his shirt — this time, across his shoulder.

Belly was relentless, her laughter ringing out as she zipped around him, the half-empty bag of flour still tightly clutched in her hands. Her eyes were dancing with mischief, her lips curling into a playful, teasing grin that made Conrad’s heart skip a beat.

But he wasn’t about to admit defeat yet.

With a quick sidestep, Conrad flung his arm toward her, sending a cloud of flour flying through the air. This time, it landed. The flour hitting her square in the shoulder, and for a split second, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise as it exploded across her.

That brief pause — just the slightest hesitation — was all he needed.

Before she could recover, he lunged forward, his hands catching her around the waist, pulling her close in a swift move. The bag of flour slipped from her hand as she gasped in surprise, but Conrad wasn’t letting go — not yet.

His breath came uneven as he held her, the warmth of her body against his making the flour-splattered kitchen fade into the background. He smiled down at her, his fingers lightly gripping her waist, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his touch. “Gotcha,” he whispered, his voice low with a mix of triumph and something softer, something just for her.

Her lips parted, like she was about to challenge him, to counter his victory with a playful remark, but before she could even form the words, he leaned in and kissed her — just a quick, teasing brush of his lips against hers.

Belly blinked, caught off guard, barely having time to register the kiss before Conrad pulled back, his face scrunching up in mock disgust as he rubbed his lips. “Dry,” he muttered.

She could only laugh at his reaction, watching him with a smile that was so soft, so full of warmth, that for a moment it felt like everything in the world had slowed down just for them. 

Conrad, satisfied that he had finally removed all the flour from his lips, leaned in again, ready to steal another kiss. This time, the kiss was different, softer and more tender. Belly’s eyes fluttered shut as his lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss, feeling his warmth and the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers.

Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, not wanting any space between them. She felt his hands on her waist, guiding her in a dance they both knew well. Their bodies seemed to move in perfect harmony, as if they were simply made for each other.

A smile tugged at her lips, the warmth of it spreading through her chest. She couldn’t help but grin against his mouth, a soft, contented smile that said everything she couldn’t quite put into words. There was no need to speak — this was enough.

Her heart raced as the kiss grew more intense. She could feel the heat of his touch, the urgency in his movements, and it only made her want more. As he pulled her closer, their lips moving in perfect sync, things began to shift, the playful energy between them turning into something deeper.

In a flurry of movement, they stumbled toward the counter, their lips still locked, not paying attention to the flour-covered floor beneath them. With one misstep, Conrad’s foot slid on the slippery surface, and before either of them could catch their balance, they were tumbling — falling into a heap on the floor, laughter bubbling out of them.

They paused for a moment, lying on the kitchen floor in a tangled mess of flour and limbs, the air thick with the heat between them. Belly’s chest rose and fell as she tried to stifle a laugh, looking up at Conrad with eyes full of affection and amusement. 

He moved closed, brushing a hand across her cheek, the intimacy of the movement not lost on either of them. “Are you hurt?” he whispered, his lips just inches from hers.

She smiled, her heart still racing as she shook her heard. “No,” she said, her voice soft and full of affection as she shook her heard. But the words barely left her lips before she found herself lost in the depths of his gaze. 

Belly couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

She was looking at him like he wasn’t real — like this was some kind of dream she didn’t want to wake up from. There, on the floor, amidst the mess they had made, the flour still dusting their skin and clothes, she felt a deep, overwhelming feeling sweep over her.

Her heart pounded, but not with the frenzy of excitement that had filled the air before. Now, everything felt slow, tender. She raised her hand to his cheek, her fingertips gently caressing the smooth skin, as if she were memorising the feel of him. There was something so intimate amount this moment.

Conrad’s eyes softened as he leaned into her touch, his breath slow and steady. His hands, which had been holding her with such urgency moments before, now rested gently on her waist, the weight of his affection palpable in the silence that enveloped them.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. There were no more jokes or playful comments — only the quiet connection between them that spoke louder than any words could. Belly let out a soft, contented sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looked at him. It wasn’t just happiness she felt in that moment. It was peace.

“I love you.”

The confession was soft, almost a whisper, but it felt as though it echoed through the entire room. Her eyes widened slightly in the aftermath of her own declaration, but as the seconds passed, she realised she didn’t regret it. How could she? It had been her truth for as long as she could remember.

She looked up at Conrad, her hand still resting against his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “I’ve loved you for so long,” she admitted, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. 

As soft, nervous laugh escaped her, her cheeks flushing as she confessed what had been buried so deeply within her heart. “It was silly of me to pretend otherwise,” she continued, her voice barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “I have brown hair and I have freckles and I will always have you in my heart.”

Conrad stared at her, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, she feared she might have said too much, revealed too much. But then, a small, almost euphoric smile began to spread across his face, his expression softening in a way that made her chest ache.

“I wanted to say it first.”

Belly blinked, her breath catching in her throat. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected that.

“I—what?” she stammered, barely able to form the word.

But Conrad’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew softer, more certain. His hand covered hers where it still rested against his cheek, his thumb grazing her knuckles in a way that sent shivers down her spine. And then, with a tenderness that made her heart ache, he whispered.

“Isabel Susannah Conklin.”

Belly’s breath hitched. He never called her that. No one did, really. But from him, in this moment, it felt like something sacred. Like a vow.

She didn’t speak. She just looked at him, her eyes wide, waiting. 

Conrad let out a slow breath, like he was steadying himself, like he needed a second to gather every piece of his heart before handing it over to her completely. But his gaze never wavered. His fingers traced along her jaw, featherlight, as if memorising the shape of her, before he finally spoke.

“I think I’ve made it very obvious by now that I am crazily, hopelessly, irreversibly in love with you.”

His voice was steady, but raw, like every word was being stripped from the deepest part of him, like this was something he had carried for so long and was finally, finally letting go.

“I have loved you in every way a person can love another. I have loved you as a friend, when we were kids and I thought nothing in the world could change us. I have loved you in silence, from across rooms, from behind closed doors, in moments where I was too afraid to reach for you. And I have loved you selfishly, in the only way I know how — wanting you, needing you, even when I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing away a streak of flour, but he didn’t let go. “I don’t want to love you in silence anymore,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I don’t want to hold back. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t feel this, pretending I could ever want anything else.”

He exhaled shakily, his forehead nearly touching hers now, theirs breaths mingling. “I love you, Bells. I love you. I love you in a way that terrifies me, in a way that leaves no room for doubt.”

“I love you like it’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”

“Loving you isn’t just something I do,” he whispered, his voice a vow, “It’s who I am. It’s in every part of me.”

Belly could only stare at him, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as if she had forgotten how to breathe. His words echoed in her head, sinking into the very marrow of her bones, wrapping around her heart like they belonged there — because they did.

Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes — not from sadness but from the sheer overwhelming force of what she felt of him. For Conrad Fisher, the boy she had loved for what felt like forever, the boy who had just bared his soul to her in a way that shattered every fear, every doubt, every moment of uncertainty.

Finally, she let out a watery laugh, shaking her head as she swiped at the tear that had managed to slip down her cheek. “Winning the flour fight wasn’t enough, you have to outdo my love confession, too?” she teased, her voice thick with emotion.

Conrad chuckled, that soft, familiar sound she had loved since she was twelve. He shook his head, his thumb brushing at another tear that threatened to fall. “God, you’re impossible,” he murmured, grinning as he tilted his head, watching her with so much love it nearly made her dizzy.

And then, with a smirk that was both exasperated and completely, hopelessly smitten, he whispered, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

So she did.

She surged forward, crashing her lips against his, her hands framing his face like she never wanted to let go. And maybe she never would.