Hazel's POV
The café was quiet except for the gentle hum of soft jazz and the rhythmic clink of spoons against mugs. Hazel sat at the far corner by the window, her sketchbook open but untouched. Her fingers twitched around the pencil, but her mind was anywhere but creative. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Liam had looked at her the day before—like she mattered again.
"You're early," Ava said as she slid into the seat across from her, her chestnut hair tucked into a loose bun and sunglasses perched on her head like a crown.
Hazel managed a smile. "I needed the quiet before the city wakes up."
Ava raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty page. "You're not drawing. That means one of two things: you're either in love or in crisis."
Hazel let out a soft laugh, closing the sketchbook. "Maybe both."
Ava leaned forward, her voice lowering. "So? Spill. Is this about Liam?"
Hazel's chest tightened at the sound of his name. She nodded. "He kissed me."
Ava's eyes widened. "No way. Did you kiss him back?"
Hazel bit her bottom lip. "I don't know what came over me. It just... happened . And now I'm terrified."
"Of what?" Ava asked gently.
"Of falling again. Of it all crashing like before."
Ava reached across the table, placing her hand over Hazel's. "You're not the same person you were then, Hazel. And neither is he, from the way you've described him."
Before Hazel could reply, her phone buzzed. A message from Liam: Meet me at the gallery tonight. I have something to show you.
Ava glanced at the screen and smirked. "Ooh. Mysterious."
***
Hazel stood outside the private wing of the art gallery, her heart pounding. Liam had reserved the space for something, but what?
The doors opened slowly, revealing Liam standing in the center of the room. The walls were bare, except for a single canvas in the middle-covered by a black cloth.
He looked nervous. "Thanks for coming."
Hazel took a step closer. "What is this?"
"I wanted to show you what you've inspired," Liam said, lifting the cloth in a dramatic sweep.
Underneath was a stunning painting. A woman eyes closed, wrapped in color and shadow-standing on a crumbling bridge, fire on one side, light on the other. She was neither running nor afraid. She was choosing.
Hazel's breath caught.
"It's you," Liam said quietly. "But it's more than that. It's who you are now. Brave. Scarred. Whole."
Tears stung Hazel's eyes. "You see me that clearly?"
"Of falling again. Of it all crashing like before."
Ava reached across the table, placing her hand over Hazel's. "You're not the same person you were then, Hazel. And neither is he, from the way you've described him."
Before Hazel could reply, her phone buzzed. A message from Liam: Meet me at the gallery tonight. I have something to show you.
Ava glanced at the screen and smirked. "Ooh. Mysterious."
***
Hazel stood outside the private wing of the art gallery, her heart pounding. Liam had reserved the space for something, but what?
The doors opened slowly, revealing Liam standing in the center of the room. The walls were bare, except for a single canvas in the middle-covered by a black cloth.
He looked nervous. "Thanks for coming."
Hazel took a step closer. "What is this?"
"I wanted to show you what you've inspired," Liam said, lifting the cloth in a dramatic sweep.
Underneath was a stunning painting. A woman-eyes closed, wrapped in color and shadow-standing on a crumbling bridge, fire on one side, light on the other. She was neither running nor afraid. She was choosing.
Hazel's breath caught.
"It's you," Liam said quietly. "But it's more than that. It's who you are now. Brave. Scarred. Whole."
Tears stung Hazel's eyes. "You see me that clearly?"
"I never stopped seeing you," he admitted, stepping closer. "Even when we were apart, I knew you were the only person who could break me and make me whole at the same time."
Hazel's hands trembled. "I'm scared, Liam."
He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "So am I. But maybe we don't have to be anymore."
She looked into his eyes and saw it-raw, steady, unwavering emotion. He wasn't offering her perfection. He was offering her honesty.
Hazel nodded slowly. "One step at a time?"
He smiled. "As many as it takes."
And for the first time in a long while, Hazel believed she might be able to walk forward—one heartbeat at a time.