= Sarah POV =
I had just enough money left from streaming to get a cheap hotel for the night. I didn't pack much—just a few clothes for work and some personal belongings. Most of my life was in the storage unit I was now paying for. It didn't feel so much as if I was leaving as much as it felt like I was slipping away unnoticed.
The hotel was exactly what you'd expect for the price: thin walls, stiff sheets, and a checkout time that demanded you leave before you'd rested. I tossed and turned all night, waking in fits and starts, and by 10 a.m., I was out the door with my suitcase, sitting in the lobby as I messaged Heather. I asked if her offer of a spare room was still on the table.
An hour later, Heather arrived. The ride to her apartment was quiet, both of us weighed down by things unsaid. When we got there, she helped me haul my suitcase upstairs and showed me to a small room that doubled as her study. A pull-out sofa bed sat against the wall, neatly made up with fresh sheets.
"It's not much, but it'll do for now," she said, giving me a small smile. I nodded, grateful but too drained to say much.
After unpacking what little I had, I joined Heather in the living room. She had two steaming mugs of coffee waiting on the table. I sank into the couch, curling my legs beneath me as she picked up her cup and stared into the dark liquid like it held all the answers.
"I think I broke her," Heather said finally, her voice heavy. "Amber, I mean. She confronted me last night, going on about how I liked it—how I can't deny we had chemistry. And I just... snapped. I told her the whole thing made me feel dirty." Heather paused, gripping the mug tighter. "When I went to see her this morning, she wouldn't even look at me. She just kept crying, telling me to go away. She even threw stuff at me."
I wrapped my hands around my own cup, the warmth doing little to ease the cold knot in my stomach. My thoughts drifted to Chris—curled up on her bed, crying that she had nothing left to live for.
"I don't think we should do the singles night anymore," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
Heather's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Oh no, we have to stop. Amber and I... That was never healthy. It's not like she was wrong—I think my body responded to her, but my mind..." Heather's voice trembled. "I told her no. I told her no, and she didn't stop."
The room felt colder suddenly, the air between us heavy. I reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. "We both need to let go. Whatever our next relationships are, they need to start on equal footing—with real consent. No more messes like this."
Heather nodded, but her hands shook as she took another sip of coffee. "Yeah, but why do you sound so hollow when you say that?" she asked, looking at me.
I met her gaze, and for a long moment, neither of us said a word. Eventually, we both looked away and sighed, the kind of sigh that comes from deep exhaustion, the kind that speaks of giving up more than relief.
We didn't have to say it out loud, but we both understood that it just wasn't that easy. It would take a lot more time to move past those two women, who had managed to carve themselves into our lives, one alluring smile at a time.
"I'll start looking for a few lesbian bars," I said finally, breaking the silence.
"And I'll call in some favours to cover our shifts for today and tomorrow," Heather replied, setting her mug down.
We both sat there, silent again, sipping coffee and staring at the walls as if trying to convince ourselves that starting over would be as simple as making plans.