Chapter 11
The café patio was quiet, sunlight slanting softly across the cobblestones. My sketchpad rested on the table beside my half-eaten sandwich, pencil in hand. But my mind was far from art.
The page in front of me had become a mess-crooked lines, smudges, a figure that vaguely resembled a man with hollow eyes. I didn’t even realize I’d drawn him until I looked down again.
River.
exhaled, setting the pencil down. Why was he still in my head?
t wasn’t just the memory of him. It was the tension. The fear. The constant feeling of being watched. I hadn’t heard from Denver again, but River’s texts hadn’t stopped. Message after message. Some pleading. Some angry. Some short and sharp, like accusations thrown into a
roid.
I know you’re reading these.”
You think this is over?”
Come home.”
Home.
scoffed.
opened my phone again out of habit. More unread messages from the same number. More nissed calls. My thumb hovered over his name. It was time.
hit block.
Silence.
lust like that, the buzzing ended. My chest felt… lighter. Not completely free, but less suffocated didn’t owe him any more space-not on my phone, not in my head.
o distract myself, I opened Instagram, hoping to scroll mindlessly through art posts and cat ideos.
But fate had other plans.
The first video on my feed was from a fashion exhibit-sleek, modern, extravagant. Models valked in shimmering gowns, flashing cameras everywhere. And standing at the end of the unway was her.
Candice.
Smiling like she owned the universe. She waved as the crowd applauded. And beside her, clapping proudly, was River.
The caption read:
‘Power Couple Returns – River Brown Supports Designer Candice Lee at Paris Exhibit”
I stared. Disbelieving. Another video played-Candice blowing kisses, River whispering in her ear. One headline read:
“Their Love Story Finally Finds Its Ending.”
Ending?
I let out a sharp laugh. It was bitter and dry.
So that’s where he was. Supporting her. Flaunting her. And yet, he had the audacity to demand I come home?
Unbelievable.
I was still glaring at my screen when Joseph arrived, carrying two takeout boxes and two bottles of iced tea. He froze the moment he saw my face.
“Uh-oh,” he said, sitting across from me. “What happened?”
I turned the phone toward him. “River. That happened.”
He squinted at the video. His eyes darkened. “Is that… Candice?”
I nodded. “He’s been blowing up my phone, telling me to come back, begging for a seconc chance. Meanwhile, he’s parading her around like nothing happened.”
Joseph’s jaw tensed. “That man…” He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his chair. “If had known what happened to your parents sooner, I would’ve married you myself before he eve got the chance.”
That caught me off guard. I blinked. “Joseph…”
He held up his hands, smiling sheepishly. “Too honest?”
‘A little,” I said, though I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “It’s already too late anyway.” ‘Maybe,” he said, his gaze softening. “But late’s better than never.”
looked away, shaking my head with a light laugh. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going to waste another minute thinking about him.”
‘Good,” Joseph said, opening one of the boxes and sliding it toward me. “That’s the best thing ‘ve heard all day.”
Ne dug into the food-some cheesy baked pasta and garlic bread. I hadn’t realized how hungry | was until I took the first bite. We talked about his patients, my latest sketch assignment, and the grumpy cat that always lurked outside the school gates.
teased him about how slow he ate. He teased me for the way I scraped every last crumb.
And somewhere between bites, the weight in my chest started to lift.
‘You know,” he said after a while, “you need a break. An actual one. No sketchpad, no phone, no
River drama.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest?”
He smiled. “Let me take you out.”
I blinked. “A date?”
He shrugged, though his eyes twinkled. “Call it a… celebration of friendship, survival, and blocked
numbers.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And
you need fun. Come on. One evening. If you hate it, I’ll bribe you with chocolate.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. But only because of the chocolate.”
Chooter 11
He brought me to a local film festival in the city center. Outdoor screenings, string lights hanging between trees, and food trucks lining the street. People laughed and danced and ate crepes on
benches.
It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t River’s kind of luxury.
But it was warm. Real.
We watched an old romantic comedy dubbed in French, shared popcorn, and made fun of the cheesy dialogue. At one point, he offered his jacket when the wind picked up, and I didn’t say no. I hadn’t expected to enjoy myself.
I hadn’t expected to laugh like that again.
hadn’t expected to feel-happy.
But as I leaned back in my chair, watching the movie flicker across the open air, I realized something:
Maybe this was what healing looked like.
Not silence. Not revenge. But choosing peace over pain. And allowing yourself to feel joy again.
