Chapter 1
I used to be a girl who believed in forehead kisses, bouquets of flowers left at the doorstep every morning, and love letters—but not anymore.
There was a time when I believed in them. Back then, I would sneak out of my house to Liam’s every night without exception.
My cheeks flushed whenever he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and the warmth of his fingers against mine calmed my racing thoughts. The faint, burning trace his lips left on my skin was something I once carved.
He was everything I could ever ask for—and yet, I was not enough.
yet, I was not enough.
Will I ever be?
I did not even ponder this question before that night when he decided that I was no longer good for him.
My eyes burn.
A stinging pain hits me. The faint marks that my nails left behind burn against my skin. A habit I quite never learned to break. This isn't the first time that I had done this; thinking about the past makes me vulnerable.
And it is completely pointless.
So I force myself to push away the memories. Ignoring the hurt, I roll down the car window for an escape.
We still have two miles left before we reach California. Cold air brushes against my face, carrying the scent of leaves and summer air. Sunlight filters through the pink trumpet trees while clouds bloom in soft shades of blue and pink. For a moment, it feels like old days, like home.
Everything here glows in lighter, more familiar shades, chasing away the gray I've carried too long.
A small buzz from my phone pulls me away from the view.
I pick it up.
It’s a text from Asha.
Asha: Hey! Did you reach home?
I start typing.
Me: No, just 20 more minutes and try not to jump off yours before then.
Asha: I am jumping, literally jumping rn.
Her words pull a smile from me.
Me: Of course, you are.
Her next text pops up instantly.
Asha: I am so excited about tomorrow. What about you? Lol, I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from you.
My thumbs hover over the screen.
Me: How could I not!!!
I press send before I can overthink it.
Asha: Now that's what I wanted to hear. Luv you!!
For a second, I just sit there with her message glowing on the screen.
I know I’m supposed to be happy right now—I’m only fifteen minutes away from the place that was once my everything.
But it all feels so foreign. New faces, old memories, and a version of myself I don’t even recognize anymore. Going back to my old school feels equally exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.
Two years in New York left me with nothing but a blurred sense of who I was—shorter hair, constant anxiety, and a father who slowly became a stranger.
Asha had been the only constant through it all: phone calls about school gossip, binge-watching movies all night through video calls, and sending each other stupid memes that made no sense to anyone but us. Somehow, she always knows exactly how to make me feel good. Though distance pulled us apart, the bond we shared never broke.
“Do you want something to drink? I can grab coffee,” my mom says, steering the wheel.
“No, thanks. I am fine.”
She nods at my reply, then turns the music on, swaying her head to the rhythm.
We turn another corner. The lined trees grow more thin and green, and houses come into view. The air feels different—more quiet… or maybe it is just my mind.
A gust of wind whips through my hair. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
I have dreamed of this ever since I left.
“We are here,” her voice is filled with excitement.
Relief settles in my chest. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’ve found a missing part of myself.
My mom pulls over and parks the car in front of our house. She steps out, the door shutting behind her. I push mine open. A cool air hits me, sending a shiver down my spine.
I look up. Leaves rustle softly above me as the sun sinks toward the horizon.
The last time I was here, my mom was loading our car with cardboard boxes. Now, the only difference is that she’s taking them out—putting them back where they belong.
I stare up at my home. It looks exactly as I left it.
Tall windows illuminate soft evening light. Bushes are neatly trimmed, and a ray of sunlight slides over the roof, giving it a golden shade.
My mom walks toward the door and stops at the bottom of the stairs. It reminds me of when I was a kid, sitting there, watching the clouds burst into raindrops while playing with paper boats in muddy puddles.
A bittersweet elation settles inside me at the memory.
I follow behind her.
Three steps later, I find myself standing in front of a door.
The shiny doorknob holds an invitation, waiting for the warmth of my palm. I stare at it for a second and let out a breath that I had been holding for two years.
My mom hands me the key with a knowing smile.
I twist the key in it, and it unlocks with a satisfying click.
For a moment, the world around me fades into a distant blur, and my mind returns to something I haven't felt in a really long time—home.
