Chapter 17 – A New Beginning & A Bittersweet Goodbye

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, the golden morning light seeping through the curtains. The warmth of my grandmother’s home had started to feel familiar again, like a distant memory of childhood. But today was different.

Today was my last day here.

I stretched, rubbing my tired eyes before making my way downstairs. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, mixed with the comforting aroma of my grandmother’s herbal tea.

At the dining table, my family was already gathered. Mom looked up first, offering me a small, hopeful smile. "Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, though the truth was, I barely slept at all. There was a strange heaviness inside me, like something was shifting, but I wasn’t sure what.

Dad sipped his coffee and glanced at me. "You look better."

I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or just an observation. Either way, I gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all," he added.

"Maybe," I murmured.

Noah, sitting across from me, smirked. "Don’t tell me you actually smiled yesterday?"

I shot him a glare, but there was no real anger behind it. He wasn’t wrong. I did smile—because of Ethan.

"Smiling is good," my grandmother said as she set down a plate of toast in front of me. "Sometimes, moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means healing."

I looked down at my plate, suddenly feeling the weight of her words. Moving forward. Was that what I was doing?

I wasn’t sure.

---

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

My cousins convinced me to go out one last time before we left, and despite my reluctance, I agreed. I didn’t want another family intervention forcing me outside, so it was easier to just go along with it.

Ethan showed up soon after, effortlessly blending into the group like he had always belonged there.

This time, talking to him felt easier. There was no pressure, no expectations. Just… normal conversation.

We walked around the lakeside, talking about everything and nothing. He cracked jokes, teased Noah, and made sure to include me in every moment, even when I didn’t expect it.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was part of something again.

---

As the sun started to set, I found myself standing with Ethan near the dock, watching the sky turn soft shades of pink and orange.

"Leaving tomorrow, huh?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You looking forward to going back?"

I hesitated before answering. "I don’t know."

He nodded like he understood, which somehow made it easier to breathe. "Well, before you go, I have something for you."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. A diary.

I blinked, staring at it as he placed it in my hands. "What’s this?"

"Something to help," he said simply. "I know you don’t talk much about what’s going on in that head of yours, so maybe writing it down will make it easier."

I traced my fingers over the cover, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through my chest. No one had ever given me something like this before.

I hesitated. "I don’t have anything to give you in return."

Ethan smirked, shaking his head. "You don’t have to."

I looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze. And for the first time, I let myself acknowledge it—Ethan was my friend. My first real friend since everything happened.

And I needed this distraction.

Even if it was temporary.

---

That night, as I packed my bags, I felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of me was grateful for the time away, for the small moments that reminded me I was still capable of feeling something other than pain.

But another part of me knew that as soon as I went back home, the weight of everything would return.

I closed my suitcase and glanced at the diary on my bedside table.

I didn’t know if I would ever write in it.

But I knew one thing.

This trip had changed something inside me.

And somehow, I felt like my story was just beginning.

---

As I climbed into bed, I let out a deep breath, trying to push away the lingering heaviness in my chest.

Everything would be fine.

I had made a new friend.

I had laughed, even if only for a moment.

I had taken the first step toward healing.