The next morning drifted in soft and lazy. The air was cool, the sky a pale stretch of gray, the kind that promised rain but never quite delivered. Jenn and Jeff packed their bags in comfortable silence.
Linda had already left for the market ,leaving them breakfast and a note on the counter — Drive safe. Don't forget to visit soon.
By the time they got on the road, the sun was barely awake. The car hummed steadily along the winding route that led back toward the city.
Jenn sat with her face turned to the window, watching the trees blur past — gold and fading green. "Feels like everything's changing," she murmured.
Jeff glanced at her. "The weather?"
She smiled faintly. "The weather. Life. Us."
He gripped the steering wheel, his jaw softening. "Change isn't always bad, Jenn."
"I know. It just feels fast sometimes. Like summer barely blinked and now winter's already knocking."
He laughed softly. "You talk about seasons like they're people."
"They kind of are," she said, turning toward him. "Each one leaves something behind."
Jeff thought about that — about how autumn left its silence, and how Jenn had started to feel like his version of spring. "So what's winter for?" he asked quietly.
Jenn looked at him, her eyes calm but thoughtful. "For resting, maybe. For healing. For figuring out what you really want before things start to bloom again."
He smiled at that — slow, warm. "Then maybe I'll stop hating winter."
"You hate winter?" she teased.
"Cold mornings. Frozen windows. And the way people disappear into themselves."
Jenn laughed softly, shaking her head. "Then I guess I'll have to give you reasons to like it."
Jeff glanced at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You already are."
The car went quiet after that — not awkward, just peaceful. Her head eventually found his shoulder, her eyes drifting shut as the road stretched endlessly ahead.
Outside, the trees bent to the wind, and somewhere in the distance, the first whisper of winter stirred.
Then Jeff slowed to a stop, a few blocks from her home.
"Here's fine," Jenn said quickly. "I don't want Alden to see your car."
Jeff nodded, though something in his eyes dimmed a little. "Yeah. I get it."
She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him. "Thanks… for everything" Jenn said quietly, brushing her hair back. "It felt… peaceful."
He smiled gently. "Anytime, Jenn. We should do it again sometime."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Maybe."
She got out, closing the door softly. He watched her walk down the quiet street until she disappeared through the gate — then he sighed and drove off.
⸻
Jeff walked toward the garage, where Carlos was fixing something under the hood of his car.
"Hey, you're back," Carlos said, glancing up. "How was it?"
Jeff shrugged. "Good. Quiet. Needed it."
Carlos straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth. "That doesn't sound like 'good.' That sounds like 'something's eating at me.'"
Jeff sighed, leaning against the car. "It's that file Aunt Carol took. I can't stop thinking about it. I don't even know what's in it, but she looked… scared, man. Like it wasn't just a hospital error."
Carlos gave him a knowing look. "Then maybe that's your sign to stop digging for now."
"I can't," Jeff muttered. "It feels important."
"Yeah, maybe. But right now, you look like you haven't slept in days." Carlos clapped his shoulder. "Put a pause on it, Jeff. Rest. Whatever's meant to come out will. It always does."
Jeff let out a small laugh. "You sound like my conscience."
"Then maybe you should start listening to it. Take a pause, Jeff. Rest."
Jeff smiled weakly and nodded, though the worry still lingered in his eyes.
Jeff gave a tired smile. "Yeah. Rest."
But even as he said it, he knew rest wasn't coming.
Because all he could think about was Jenn — her laugh, her warmth — and the way every time they tried to get close, something always pulled them apart.
Inside, Jenn slipped quietly into Alden's room. He was sitting by the edge of his bed, scrolling through something on his phone. The faint scent of smoke from his usual cigarettes hung in the air.
He looked up immediately. "Hey. You're back."
"Yeah," she said softly. "Got in a while ago."
"How was it? Your aunt's place?"
Jenn smiled. "Good. She's doing fine. Missed me like crazy, though."
Alden nodded slowly, his gaze resting on her face. "You've got something right here," he said, standing up.
"Where?" she asked, confused.
He stepped closer, his hand gentle as he tilted her chin slightly toward the light. "A tiny pimple," he murmured. "Wait here."
Before she could respond, he walked to his drawer, pulling out a small patch from a box. He peeled it carefully and leaned closer again, his breath brushing her cheek.
"Hold still," he said softly.
Jenn's heartbeat quickened. His fingers brushed her skin — soft, deliberate — as he placed the patch on her face. For a moment, neither of them moved.
"There," he whispered. "Perfect."
Jenn had once freaked out over a tiny pimple on her cheek — a moment Alden never let her forget.
*flashback*
She had stood in front of the mirror panicking. "Alden, look at this! My face is destroyed!"
He'd walked in, glanced once, and blinked. "Jenn… that's not a pimple. That's a dot. A speck. A molecule."
She'd slapped his arm. "Stop joking! It's huge!"
Alden sighed, stepped closer, and gently tilted her chin up with two fingers.
"Relax," he murmured, putting a pimple patch on it. "You're still beautiful. Even with your… microscopic crisis."
Jenn had blushed so hard she forgot about the pimple completely.
***
The air was tight, almost fragile.
"You should rest," Alden said, not meeting her eyes.
Jenn swallowed. "Thank you, Alden."
She turned and walked out, each step slow, deliberate.
And in that moment, she realized just how much she missed that.
The school lobby buzzed with life again — footsteps, laughter, papers rustling, and the usual Monday energy after a long weekend.
Jenn walked in, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, books clutched to her chest. Jeff spotted her first, leaning by the noticeboard. The moment their eyes met, something eased inside both of them — the kind of relief you feel when a familiar face reminds you that the world hasn't completely fallen apart.
"You're early," Jenn said softly, smiling.
Jeff grinned. "Missed the chaos."
She laughed lightly. "Yeah, right."
He looked at her for a moment — longer than he should've. "I missed you, Jenn."
Her eyes softened, voice barely a whisper. "I missed you too."
They stood there in that fragile pause — where words became unnecessary, the kiss was deep But before either could say more, footsteps echoed from the hallway.
Alden.
He stopped when he saw them — Jenn's hand brushing Jeff's arm, both of them unaware of his presence. Something inside him twisted hard. His chest tightened, his jaw clenched.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, breathing through the storm rising inside him. He wanted to yell, to walk up and drag her away — but instead, he turned sharply, his fists curling at his sides.
"Wow," a familiar voice murmured behind him.
Tessie.
She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, that knowing smirk on her lips.
"What do you want?" Alden muttered.
Tessie tilted her head. "You know what's funny? The girl you actually want… is out there laughing with someone else. Meanwhile, the one who actually wants you is standing right here."
He turned, eyes dark with anger. "Tessie, don't."
But she only smiled wider. "Why not? Maybe it's time someone said it out loud. You keep pretending you're okay — pretending you don't care — but you do. You care too much."
A muscle worked in his jaw. "Tessie, shut the fuck up."
The words came out low and sharp — enough to silence her. He turned and walked off, leaving her standing there, her smirk fading into something else. Something that almost looked like hurt.
Jenn didn't notice the shadow at the end of the hallway. Didn't see Alden watching her with a storm in his eyes. Didn't see him turn away before his jealousy could show.
What he didn't see either… was the confusion growing inside her. The way her heart tugged in two directions at once.
Winter was coming — and so were choices none of them were ready for.