She exhales, long and slow. “Did he apologize?”
“Said he was helping someone study.”
Mila raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
“It’s not like I expect him to rearrange his life,” I add, even though I don’t owe her an explanation.
“No,” she says. “But maybe remembering yours would be nice.”
We cross the street. I don’t look at her.
“He means well,” I say after a moment. “He’s just… scattered.”
“He’s not in the room with you when you’re bleeding into your shoes, Pen. He doesn’t know what it takes.”
“I don’t need him to understand ballet.”
“I know. But maybe you need him to understand you.”
I don’t answer. The silence stretches out again as we walk past the coffee shop and the florist whose windows are still full of fake snow. I exhale, slow and steady, trying to shake off the weight pressing behind my ribs.
“I nailed it, though,” I say eventually.
Mila looks over. “You did.”
“That last run-through felt… right. For the first time in a while.”
“I could tell. You looked like yourself again.”
The corner bakery is just ahead, and Mila points toward it. “Come on. We earned something soft and full of carbs.”
The smell hits us before the door opens-vanilla, sugar, butter. Warmth.
We order without thinking. She gets her usual cinnamon roll. I grab the chocolate cupcake with the thick frosting swirl. It looks ridiculous. I want it anyway.
We sit by the window, quiet again. People move past outside-rushed, distracted, loud. It’s all so far away in here.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I say finally, low enough that only Mila can hear.
She doesn’t flinch. “You’re not broken.”
“I just feel… like I’m trying to stay on top of something that keeps shifting under my feet.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Everyone’s exhausted.”
“Yeah,” she says. “But not everyone’s trying to carry the weight of perfection at the same time.”
I break off a piece of cupcake and roll it between my fingers. “I feel like if I let it go for even a second, I’ll fall behind.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
She looks at me like it’s obvious. “Because you’re already ahead.”
That silences me for a minute.
We finish our pastries slowly. There’s no rush. Just soreness and sugar and the strange relief of having survived another class, another day.
When we finally head back out, the sun’s dipped lower, the gold turning cooler, but it still feels warmer than it has in weeks. I breathe it in like something earned.
My body aches in every direction. My shoulder throbs. My thighs are already threatening tomorrow’s pain. But I walk steady.
Today, I landed it.
And maybe that’s enough.
Mila splits off toward her block with a sleepy wave, muttering something about ramen and a bath and how if she doesn’t text me later, I should assume she’s been swallowed whole by her mattress. I smile as I keep walking.
I pull out my phone for the first time since before class and instantly get hit with a flood of notifications.
Twelve texts from Tyler.
Ty (4:52 PM): I’m so sorry
Ty (4:54 PM): I literally suck
Ty (4:55 PM): I completely spaced-Zoe needed help with some chem thing and it just
Ty (4:55 PM): Happened
Ty (5:00 PM): I’m an idiot
Ty (5:03 PM): Please let me make it up to you
Ty (5:04 PM): You’re probably in class now
Ty (5:08 PM): I swear I’ll never forget again
Ty (5:09 PM): Please don’t hate me
Ty (5:15 PM): I love you
Ty (5:15 PM): So much
I stop walking. My heart does this stupid soft flip in my chest, and I press my fingers lightly to the screen. He forgot. Yeah. But he cares. He always does. Even when he messes up.
Tyler’s never been perfect, but he’s never made me feel anything less than loved.
And honestly? I don’t care that I had to run today. I’d still take this over anyone else.
When I turn the corner onto my street, I freeze.
He’s sitting on the porch.
My porch.
His hoodie is pulled low over his eyes, and there’s a paper bag in his lap. He’s scrolling through his phone, probably checking for the hundredth time if I’ve texted back yet.
I smile before I can stop myself.
“Hey,” I say.
His head jerks up fast, and he practically jumps to his feet. “Pen.”
He rushes toward me, holding the bag in one hand, his face wrecked with apology. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-I got caught up helping Zoe and totally lost track and then when I looked at the time I-God, I felt sick.”
“Ty-“
“I should’ve been there. I had it on my calendar. I even set a reminder and then ignored it like a complete idiot-“
I laugh and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him tight. “Ty. It’s okay.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s okay. You’re here now.”
He holds out the bag. “I got you that sandwich you like. The weird healthy one? With the avocado and… sprouts or whatever?”
I peek inside. It’s definitely not the one I would’ve picked, but he remembered I liked it once, a long time ago. It’s sweet. It’s him.
“This is perfect,” I say.
He exhales like I just handed him a second chance, then kisses me-quick, soft, familiar.
“Text me when you wake up?” he says.
“Of course.”
He squeezes my hand once before heading down the steps. I watch him walk down the street and into his house-just three doors down from mine.
I hold the sandwich to my chest and grin.
Because I love him.
And I don’t need anything else.
Tyler’s car is idling outside when I lock the door behind me.
I tug my hoodie tighter around my middle and jog the last few steps across the lawn. He leans over and opens the passenger door before I reach it, grinning like we didn’t just see each other twelve hours ago.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says.
I slip into the seat and toss my bag into the back. “You’re early.”
He shrugs, pulling away from the curb. “Had to redeem myself.”
“You’re forgiven,” I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
His hand slides across the console to rest on my thigh, casual and warm. “Still feel bad. That sandwich sucked, huh?”
“It was terrible,” I laugh. “But it was sweet.”
He looks over at me quickly, like he wants to make sure I’m not still secretly upset. I’m not. Not even a little. Not when he’s like this-smiling, soft-eyed, and trying. Always trying, even when he messes up.
Campus is only ten minutes from our neighborhood, but traffic near the turn-in is always a disaster. Tyler doesn’t seem to mind. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and sings along under his breath to whatever indie-pop playlist he queued up.
My backpack feels heavier than usual on my shoulders as we walk toward the main building. I’ve got two classes today-nothing major, but enough to keep my GPA stable. Ballet eats up most of my schedule, and the Gala trials mean even more rehearsals than usual. Still, I don’t want to slack off. I like school. I like doing things well. Even when I’m tired.
We’re halfway down the hall when I hear the first laugh-sharp, brittle, practiced.
Then Rebecca’s voice cuts through the air.
“Oh my god, speak of the ice queen.”
I slow down. Tyler doesn’t, not at first. But then he hears her too.
Rebecca leans against a row of lockers, all lip gloss and smugness, flanked by her usual clique-and a new addition. Zoe. Quiet little Zoe, now nodding along and pretending she’s always belonged there.
Rebecca tilts her head when she sees me. “Penelope. Wow. You look… tired.”
I don’t stop walking, but I don’t speed up either.
“Still playing ballerina, huh?” she says. “All that dancing and you’re still not as skinny as me.”
My stomach twists.
She says it like it’s a joke, like she’s helping.
The girls around her laugh.
Tyler’s fingers twitch in mine, but he doesn’t say anything.
Rebecca steps forward, smile dripping sugar. “Do you even eat? Or is it just like… ice cubes and desperation?”
“Rebecca,” I mutter, not looking at her.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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