Jasmine hadn't seen Cheyenne in years, but when she sent the text, the response was immediate.
Cheyenne: [Of course. Let's meet at Mabel's.]
Mabel's was a small coffee shop tucked between a bookstore and a thrift store—one of those places that smelled like cinnamon and old pages, where the baristas knew their regulars by name. It was quieter than the spots Jasmine usually frequented, but maybe that was what she needed.
She arrived first, wrapping her hands around a mug of chamomile tea. It wasn't what she wanted—she craved something stronger, something to cut through the ache that sat heavy in her chest—but it felt like the right choice. A small step toward something better.
Cheyenne arrived ten minutes later, her honey-blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on top of her head. She slid into the seat across from Jasmine, eyes scanning her carefully before offering a small, knowing smile.
"So," she said, setting her iced latte down with a soft clink. "You finally ended things."
Jasmine exhaled, her fingers tightening around her mug. "Yeah."
Cheyenne nodded, like she had expected this. Maybe she had. Maybe everyone had. "How are you holding up?"
Jasmine considered lying, but what was the point? Cheyenne wasn't someone she needed to perform for. She wasn't Cameron, waiting for reassurance that everything would be fine.
"I feel like shit," she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. "Like I just tore out a piece of myself and now I don't know what to do with what's left."
Cheyenne hummed in understanding, stirring her drink lazily. "That makes sense. You and Cameron… you two were tangled up in each other for a long time. It's gonna take a while to adjust."
Jasmine let out a bitter laugh. "Adjust. Right."
Cheyenne leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "So, have you thought about what's next? Like, what are you going to do now that you're not spending all your time managing Cameron's emotions?"
Jasmine flinched at that, but she didn't argue. It was the truth, even if it stung. She had spent so long revolving around Cameron's ups and downs that the idea of doing anything else felt foreign.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I keep stopping myself from reaching out. It's like… she's the habit I can't break."
Cheyenne smiled sympathetically. "You don't have to break it all at once. Just… redirect it."
Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "What, like start crocheting or something?"
Cheyenne snorted. "I mean, if that helps. But seriously, distraction is your best friend right now. Pick up something new, throw yourself into something different. If you're busy, you're not thinking about her."
Jasmine leaned back in her chair, considering it. "I used to paint," she said slowly. "I haven't in years, but I used to love it."
Cheyenne's eyes lit up. "Then start again. Get some new supplies, go outside, and just… create something that has nothing to do with Cameron. Something that's just yours."
It was a simple suggestion, but it landed heavily in Jasmine's chest. The last time she painted, she was happy. She had felt like a person outside of her relationship, outside of her mistakes. Maybe picking up a brush again wouldn't fix everything, but it was a place to start.
"Okay," she said, more to herself than to Cheyenne. "I'll try."
Cheyenne grinned, tapping her fingers against the table. "Good. And in the meantime, I'm dragging you to a yoga class with me on Saturday. No arguments."
Jasmine groaned, but there was no real resistance behind it. "God, I hate yoga."
"You hate the idea of yoga," Cheyenne corrected. "But I think you'll like it. Or at least, you'll like feeling like you're doing something productive instead of wallowing in your apartment."
Jasmine rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Fine. One class."
Cheyenne held up her pinky. "One class. And if you like it, we keep going."
Jasmine hesitated, then hooked her pinky around Cheyenne's, feeling something shift—something small but important. A decision to move forward, even if it was just inch by inch.
As they left the coffee shop, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, Jasmine realized that for the first time since the breakup, she didn't feel completely lost. Maybe she wasn't okay yet. Maybe it would take a long time before she was.
But at least now, she had somewhere to start.