The smell of fresh bread filled the kitchen. Sophie had burned the first loaf, but this one was golden and warm, a little imperfect—like most good things.
She set it on the windowsill to cool. Outside, the sky was painted in the hushed hues of late afternoon. A few orange leaves still clung to the trees even though spring was well underway. They reminded her of her mother—stubborn, graceful, and always the last to let go.
The house felt different now. Not quieter, exactly—but easier. Softer. As if it had exhaled too.
Jake arrived just before dinner, carrying a plant she didn't know the name of.
"For the windowsill," he said, setting it beside the bread. "Thought it needed company."
She raised a brow. "You're bringing houseplants now?"
"I'm evolving."
They laughed, and she noticed how much lighter his laugh sounded these days. Like some of the weight they'd carried had finally found the ground.
They ate at the kitchen table, knees touching. No television. No music. Just the scraping of forks and the occasional glance that said, This is enough.
Later, as twilight wrapped the world in silver, they lay on the floor of the living room, staring at the ceiling.
Jake spoke first.
"Remember when we used to talk about leaving this town behind?"
She smiled. "You swore you'd never come back."
"And you swore you'd never stay."
They fell into silence again. But it wasn't filled with regret. Only a kind of quiet understanding.
"We were running from ghosts," Sophie said finally.
Jake reached for her hand. "And now?"
"Now I think we're learning how to live with them."
Sophie walked the familiar path to the lake alone the next morning. She carried nothing with her—not her phone, not her notebook. Just herself.
The water mirrored the sky. Still. Steady.
She sat at the edge of the dock, toes brushing the surface. A heron passed overhead. Somewhere nearby, wind rustled through the trees.
Sophie closed her eyes.
For once, she didn't need answers. Didn't need a plan.
She was here.
That was enough.
When she returned to the house, she opened a new journal. Not to write about grief. Not to dissect her heartbreak.
She simply wrote:
"Today, I felt okay.
And that is worth remembering."