Cicely
Dust motes dance in the sunbeams slanting through the blinds, illuminating a battlefield of empty coffee mugs and crumpled tissues. Cicely, sprawled on the couch in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, squints at the ceiling, eyes still gummy from sleep.
Her head throbbed like a drum solo gone rogue. She groaned, a symphony of aches accompanying the movement.
Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting her out of her stupor. She reaches for it, the name on the screen making her heart skip a beat.
Euna
"Meet me for dinner after my shoot. We need to talk."
Cicely stares at the text, the simple words resonating in her tired brain like a shockwave. A nervous laugh bubbles up, tinged with disbelief. Could this be real? Euna wants to meet?
She rereads the message, searching for hidden meanings in the brevity. Her fingers tap out a reply, then delete it. Another one, then another. Each iteration feels too eager, too revealing. Finally, she settles on a simple, noncommittal:
Cicely
"Okay."
She throws the phone onto the couch, willing Euna to respond. As she stares at the blank screen, a small smile forms on her lips. For the first time in months, the ache in her chest feels lighter, replaced by a flicker of hope, fragile and bright.
Then, a notification pops up. Euna's typing. Cicely's heart leaps into her throat, and she snatches the phone back up, her eyes glued to the screen.
Euna
"7:30. Rooftop?"
Cicely's breath catches. The rooftop. Their rooftop. The place where they first made love, where their love bloomed under the watchful gaze of the moon and stars.
A smile, hesitant at first, then full-blown and radiant, spreads across Cicely's face. She types back, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
Cicely
"I'll be there."
The phone buzzes again with a single emoji: a tiny, hopeful sun. Cicely laughs, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoes through the messy apartment. The sun outside seems brighter, the dust motes dancing in a waltz of joy. For the first time in months, Cicely feels a flicker of hope, a spark of something new.
She stumbled to her feet, a new resolve in her steps. The hangover could wait. Today, she had a future to rewrite, a love story to reclaim.
YOU ARE READING
Letters I never sent | Englot AU
Romance"Their love was never given the chance to bloom." The UnsentProject, a mysterious platform where unsent messages are shared. Unspoken words linger on, In a world where love is not enough, Two souls entwine in a tale of heartache deep, Their love...
