Sam's POV
Cassie didn’t rush me. She didn’t push me to talk. She didn’t even question when I’d just sit quietly in the guest room for hours, staring at the ceiling with tears dried on my cheeks. She would knock softly, leave a tray of food outside the door, and whisper, “I’m here when you’re ready.”
The truth is, I didn’t know when I’d be ready. I wasn’t sure if I ever would be.
But one morning, after what felt like the first decent sleep I’d had in months, I woke up to find a sticky note on my nightstand.
Wear something comfy. We’re going out.
— Cassie
I stared at the note for minutes. My first instinct was to curl back under the blanket and ignore her. But the thought of doing nothing again… it just made the numbness worse. So I got up. Brushed my hair. Washed my face. And put on a hoodie and jeans.
Cassie was already waiting by the door with a basket bag and sunglasses on. “Took you long enough,” she smiled.
We didn’t talk much on the ride. Just small glances. Sometimes, I caught her glancing at me with those eyes—filled with guilt, but also care. When we got to the local market, I tilted my head in confusion.
“We’re getting groceries?” I asked quietly.
Cassie grinned. “Yeah. But not for the fridge.”
She didn’t explain anything else. Just handed me a basket and we strolled through the aisles, picking out fruits, bread, juice, chocolates, chips—everything that screamed a sunny afternoon. She even got us tiny flowers from the vendor at the corner. I didn’t say anything, but I think I smiled a little.
It felt nice… just being normal.
After that, she drove up to a place I haven’t been since I was a child—River Park in Baguio. It wasn’t crowded. The sun was out but not too harsh. The wind was soft, rustling the trees and carrying the smell of pine. Cassie laid out a blanket near the quiet stream and motioned for me to sit.
“I figured,” she started, spreading the snacks. “If you’re gonna cry, might as well do it under the sky.”
That made me let out a small laugh through my nose. “You’re such an idiot,” I muttered.
“An idiot who’s sorry,” she said. “I didn’t protect you like I should have. I didn’t speak up. I was scared. And I was selfish.”
We sat in silence, the sound of water filling the air.
“I was broken too, Sam,” she said softly. “But you… you were bleeding in ways none of us saw. And that’s on me. I left you to fight alone when you were already too tired.”
I stared at the stream. “I hated you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I hated myself more,” I added. “For letting it happen. For trusting people I shouldn’t. For finding comfort in someone who ended up wearing a golden mask.”
She looked at me. “Eli?”
I nodded, hugging my knees. “I started to smile again… because of him. He made things feel less heavy. Like maybe I was still human. But then I found out the truth. That he saw everything. That he did nothing.”
Cassie scooted closer. “He wanted to say something. I think he was drowning in guilt too.”
I turned to her with wet eyes. “Then why didn’t he? Why wait until everything shattered?”
“Because he’s just as messed up as we are,” she said, brushing hair away from my face. “But this… today… is about healing. Let’s not talk about them. Let’s just be you and me.”
So we did. We ate. We laughed. We took photos of the sky, the river, our food—even our feet beside each other on the mat.
She pulled out a small bottle of pink nail polish from her bag.
“I saw yours chipped,” she said. “Figured I’d fix them.”
I rolled my eyes but gave her my hand. And in that moment, under the Baguio sky, with color on my nails and fresh air in my lungs—I felt… okay. Not healed. But better.
Cassie leaned her head on my shoulder as the sky turned orange. “Let’s do this again. Every time the world hurts too much.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”
We sat there until the sun dipped, until the cold started creeping in, until I realized—maybe, just maybe—I could be okay someday.
And for now, that was enough.