Chapter 2

The drive back from the Reeds' awkward visit was quiet.

Chloe drove Ava's car, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Ava watched the trees blur past.

"You okay?" Chloe finally asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"Yeah," Ava said. "It was... interesting."

"Interesting," Chloe repeated, a hint of disbelief in her tone. "That's one word for it."

"Are you okay?" Ava asked. "You looked like you were about to throw Ethan out the window."

Chloe glanced at her, a small smile playing on her lips. "Tempting. Very tempting."

Then her smile faded. "No, seriously. How are you holding up? After seeing him again?"

Ava poked Chloe's arm. "I told you. It's like he's a character in a story I read a long time ago. I know the plot, but the emotions are gone."

She paused. "Is that bad?"

"Bad?" Chloe scoffed. "Ava, it's a miracle. A gift from the universe. He put you through hell. If you don't have to feel the pain of it anymore, that's a win."

Ava leaned her head against the window. The cool glass felt good.

"It just feels... empty sometimes," Ava admitted softly. "Like a part of me is missing."

Chloe reached over and squeezed her hand. "Then we'll fill it with new things. Better things."

Ava looked at her friend. Chloe' s eyes, usually so full of fierce energy, were soft with concern.

And something else. Relief. Immense relief.

Ava realized Chloe had been carrying this burden too. The burden of watching her friend suffer.

"Thanks, Chlo," Ava said. "For everything."

"Always," Chloe said, her voice a little thick.

They drove in comfortable silence for a while.

When they got back to Ava's house, her parents were in the living room.

They were holding hands, watching some old comedy on TV.

Her dad was actually laughing. A real, hearty laugh.

Ava hadn't heard him laugh like that in months.

"Hey, you two," Ava said, walking in.

"There are my girls!" her dad said, his face beaming. He muted the TV.

"How was the... visit?" her mom asked, her smile a little too bright.

"It was fine," Ava said. "Ethan was... Ethan."

"And you?" her dad asked, his eyes searching hers.

"I was fine too," Ava said. "Really."

Her parents exchanged another look. This one was pure relief.

Later that evening, Ava and Chloe were in Ava's room.

It was a familiar scene. They'd spent countless nights like this, talking, laughing, sharing secrets.

Ava lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Chloe sat at her desk, scrolling through something on her laptop.

"You know," Ava said. "It's weird. I don't miss him. But I feel like I should miss him."

Chloe stopped scrolling. "Why? Because you were together for so long? Because everyone expects you to?"

"Maybe," Ava said. "It's like... there's this giant Ethan-shaped hole in my life, but I don't actually want Ethan to fill it."

"Good," Chloe said. "That hole is an opportunity. For you to figure out who Ava is without him."

Ava sat up. "Who is Ava without him?"

It was a genuine question. For the past few years, her life had revolved around Ethan. His football games, his friends, his ambitions.

She had put her own dreams on hold. Her journalism, her writing.

Chloe closed her laptop and came to sit on the bed.

"Ava Miller is brilliant," Chloe said, her voice firm. "She's a talented writer. She's a loyal friend. She's funny and kind. And she's strong as hell, even if she doesn't always see it."

Ava felt a warmth spread through her chest. A genuine feeling.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Chloe said. "And now, you get to rediscover all of that. Without him dimming your light."

Ava leaned her head on Chloe's shoulder.

"What if I can't?" she whispered. "What if he broke something in me that can't be fixed?"

Chloe put her arm around her. "Then we'll get you the best glue money can buy. And if that doesn't work, we'll build something new and even more amazing from the pieces."

Ava closed her eyes.

The emptiness was still there. But it didn't feel as vast, as daunting, with Chloe by her side.

Friendship. That was a feeling she still had. Strong and true.

It was an anchor in the confusing sea of her amnesia.