The steps between us.

Sharp Edges & Soft Goodbyes

Chapter 14 —(Ilona)

When I finally leave the riverwalk, the sun's beginning to dip behind the treetops, painting everything in that late-afternoon gold that makes the world feel like a memory before it even happens.

I haven't texted anyone—not Avery, not Aubree. I just walk.

Isaac didn't fight it. He didn't try to talk me into anything. He just listened, nodded, and gave me the kind of smile that says thank you for being honest even though it stings.

It almost made me cry. Not because I regret anything. But because saying no to someone kindly still hurts, even when it's the right thing.

By the time I reach home, the porch light is on. I pause at the door, hand hovering over the knob.

I already know what I need to say to Mom. I don't know if she'll listen. But I know I have to try.

When I step inside, she's setting the table—two plates, cloth napkins, candles lit like it's a scene from a carefully curated magazine.

She looks up. "You're back. I hope you had a good talk with him."

I nod. "I did."

She watches me closely. "And?"

I take a breath.

"And I told him no. I'm not doing this. Not out of obligation. Not out of some legacy I didn't agree to carry."

Her jaw tightens, but she says nothing.

I step closer. "I love you. I respect you. But I'm choosing myself. That's not rebellion. That's survival."

She closes her eyes. Just for a second. And I see something shift across her face—not defeat, but something like understanding forced to bend.

"I'll talk to his mother," she says quietly. "We won't move forward."

I nod. Relief sinks through me so fast I nearly forget how to hold it. But I do. Carefully.

"Thank you."

It's not the end of everything. But it's the start of something mine.

Outside, my phone buzzes again.

Avery: Are you okay? I've been thinking about you since you left.

I stare at the screen.

And maybe now—for the first time in a long time—I know what I want to say back.

___________________________________________________________

iMessage — Ilona 💬

> Avery: Are you okay? I've been thinking about you since you left.

Ilona stares at the screen, heart still unspooling from everything with Isaac, with her mom, with her own voice finally stepping forward. Then she types.

> Ilona: I'm okay now. Had a long talk with my mom. And with Isaac.

A pause.

> Ilona: I told him no. I told both of them no.

> Avery: You did?

> Ilona: Yeah. It wasn't ever really about him. > It was about people trying to write my story without asking me for the pen.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

> Avery: I'm proud of you. Like... really proud.

Ilona bites her lip and smiles just barely.

> Ilona: Thanks. > I'm scared, but it feels like the right kind of scared.

> Avery: That's how you know it matters.

> Ilona: Yeah.

A minute passes. Neither of them types. Then:

> Avery: So... > Where do we go now?

Ilona exhales. Her thumbs hover.

> Ilona: Forward. > Carefully. > Honestly.

Another moment of quiet.

> Avery: I like the sound of that.

> Ilona: Me too.

There's no dramatic confession. No perfect emoji or grand gesture. Just that rare, steady kind of closeness—the kind that rebuilds quietly, like fingers brushing beneath a cafeteria table.

___________________________________________________________

Thanks for readiing!!!! Toodles!!!