Vanessa
On the way to Maeson's car—because in the end, we decided it was better to ride together in one car: more practical, more intimate, more us—I notice Wenn walking a little slower. As if her body weighs more than her soul. I gently touch her arm and signal for us to step aside for a moment.
The guys are still talking, laughing about something Konnor said involving filming a music video in a butcher shop. Melissa watches them with that look of "I love them, but they're chaos." Maeson is checking something on his phone. Shawn—well, Shawn is scanning the crowd for her. And that gives me the push I need.
"Wenn," I say softly, as we stop beside a column in the parking lot. "We need to go get your ultrasound today. It can't wait any longer. Not because it's urgent—but because I know you need to see. To see that it's there. That it's real. That you're not alone."
She looks at me, eyes shining, like she doesn't know whether to cry or laugh.
"I know. I've been putting it off because… I don't know. I'm scared. But I also want to. I want to know if everything's okay. I want to hear it."
"And you will," I promise, taking her hand. "Today. After lunch. I already called the clinic. Everything's set. All that's missing is your yes."
She nods, with a sigh that seems to release weeks of tension.
"Yes. Let's go."
She pauses. Looks at me with that intensity she only shows when she's about to trust someone with something big.
"And there's more. Melissa helped me plan how I'm going to tell Shawn. We've got it all—the place, the moment, even the song. But I need you to help me record it. I don't want it to be just a confession. I want it to be a memory. Something we can watch again when things get hard."
I go quiet for a second. Because what she's asking isn't just to film. It's to witness. To be part of it. To hold her in her most vulnerable moment.
"I'm with you," I say, without hesitation. "I'll film it. I'll edit it. I'll turn it into something that speaks for you when words fall short."
She smiles. And for the first time in days, that smile isn't afraid.
In the distance, the guys watch us. They don't hear—but they feel. Konnor frowns, like he senses something's happening. Maeson pauses, car keys in hand, waiting. Shawn looks at her, like always, like she's the center of his compass.
And as I walk back beside her, I know we're about to enter a new scene.
One that can't be rehearsed.
One that's going to change everything.
Maeson
Whoever suggested we all ride in my car is currently at the top of my "people I want to strangle" list. I don't know how I agreed. Maybe it was the hope of sitting next to Vanessa. Then I remembered—I'm driving. So much for proximity. Now I'm trapped in a horror movie setup.
My giant friend Shawn has Wenn on his lap, right beside me. Which leaves me zero room to shift gears without feeling like I'm intruding on a relationship. Behind me, someone's knees are digging into my back—probably Zane, making space for Melissa, who's next to him, and Vanessa, who's on the far end with Konnor beside her. The perfect recipe for mental chaos.
At first, Shawn and Wenn are stiff. Like two uncomfortable statues sharing a seat. Then Shawn says something—I can't hear it—and she laughs. She settles into him. And the PDA begins. Hands, caresses, whispers. I try to focus on the road, but it feels like I'm driving through a rom-com with a PG-13 rating.
I glance in the rearview mirror. Zane meets my eyes with the same expression I have:
Do we tell them to get a room or just pretend we're furniture?
I nearly crash into a pole.
"Hey!" I say—not yelling, but with just enough tone to make it clear I'm not enjoying the show. "Can you… not do that right on top of the gear shift? Thanks."
Shawn apologizes. Wenn laughs. I keep it together. Barely.
Behind me, Zane and Melissa haven't said a word the entire ride. But the looks they exchange could write a novel. There's tension. Good or bad, I don't know. But it's there. Zane tries to break the ice:
"Did you see the new ramen place near the house?"
Melissa replies without looking:
"I don't eat ramen."
Zane goes quiet. I get it. Melissa has sharp edges. Today, she's all blade.
And then there's them. To my dismay: Vanessa and Konnor, laughing it up. Shoulder nudges, inside jokes I can't quite hear because Shawn and Wenn are still whispering sweet nothings beside me. I try to listen. Lean in a little. Nothing. Keep trying. Until finally, I catch something.
Konnor says something about "going out."
I slam the brakes.
Everyone—and I mean everyone—goes silent. The car jolts. The air freezes.
I wait a few seconds. Then, in the most neutral voice I can muster, I say:
"Saw a dog crossing. Didn't want to risk it."
Silence.
I check the mirror. Konnor's watching me. Says nothing. But his eyes… his eyes know I lied. And I know he knows. But I don't say it. Not here. Not now.
I start the car again. The engine sounds louder than usual. Or maybe it's just me.
Konnor cracks a joke, like nothing happened:
"Well, what better time for Vanessa to say yes to that jazz café date I mentioned?"
Vanessa shifts awkwardly. Looks uncomfortable. Searches for my gaze. I pull away—not out of pride. Out of defense.
She replies:
"Sure. But it's not a date."
Zane, trying to lighten the mood, says:
"I want to go too. I love jazz."
Konnor brushes him off with a quick joke—something about Zane only going for dessert. Zane's caught in the middle, unsure what to do. Because he knows how I feel. But he doesn't want to step on his friend either.
And me… I keep driving. In silence. Hands on the wheel, heart in containment mode.
Because sometimes, the shortest road between two points is the one that hurts the most.
Vanessa
In the car, I'm sitting between Konnor and Melissa, but my body's somewhere else. I wish I were next to Maeson. Holding his hand. Resting my head on his shoulder like Wenn does with Shawn—without fear, without doubt. They laugh, touch, whisper things I can't hear. And it stings. Not because I envy Wenn—never—but because of what she can have without hiding. That freedom to love without the past biting at your heels.
I want that too. With him.
I want to kiss Maeson without the world crashing down. I want him to look at me the way he does when he thinks no one's watching. I want him to tell me he feels it too—that he's not imagining this connection that wraps around us every time we're near. But I don't say it. Not yet.
And Konnor is beside me, talking with that joy that always makes me smile. I care about him. Truly. As a friend. As a partner in mischief. But I've noticed he feels something more. I saw it in his eyes when he suggested the jazz café. I heard it in his tone when he said "go out." And even though it makes me uncomfortable, I said yes. Because friends share time. And because, deep down, I want to try to tell him something. Gently. Kindly. Honestly.
When we get to the restaurant, I don't hesitate. I find the seat next to Maeson. He sees me approach and smiles. Not a polite smile. A real one. One that makes me feel like, for a moment, everything is okay.
We sit. We talk. About silly things. Music. How Zane nearly fell out of the car. How Melissa gave him a look that could freeze the sun. And we laugh. But not like the others. We laugh softly. Like co-conspirators. Like we're in a bubble no one else can break.
"You know what I like about you?" I say, without thinking too much.
"My ability to survive seven people in one car?" he replies, with that irony I adore.
"No. That with you, there's no chaos. With you, there's calm."
He looks at me. Says nothing. But his hand brushes mine on the table. And that's enough.
But also, not enough.
"Sometimes I feel like I could be still with you," I whisper. "That I don't need to run, or hide, or pretend I'm okay. Just be."
Maeson lowers his gaze for a second, like my words touched something deeper than he expected.
"I feel that too," he says, without embellishment. "With you, I don't have to be the one who fixes everything. I can just… breathe."
We stay like that. In silence. But not the awkward kind. The kind that feels like music. Like a hug without contact. Like a quiet "I see you."
And while the others settle in, order food, toss jokes around, we remain in our calm.
Everyone's eating. Pasta, burgers, dishes with names Zane insists on mispronouncing. Shawn feeds Wenn like they're fresh out of a rom-com. Konnor cracks jokes. Melissa is quiet, but present.
Then, suddenly, Wenn stands. She rushes toward the bathroom—but doesn't make it. She vomits just outside the door.
The group freezes. Silence falls like a curtain. Shawn jumps up and follows her, worry written all over his face. And Melissa… Melissa doesn't move. She's pale. Breathing like the air hurts. Then she stands and walks out of the restaurant without saying a word.
I follow her.
Because I know what's happening.
Because I lived it with her.
Because this is the moment before everything trembles.