Chapter 5 5

The hum of the city was louder than either of them remembered. After five days of sea-salted silence, returning to a place filled with car horns, construction noise, and urgent footsteps felt jarring. As Ava unlocked the door to her apartment, she hesitated, her fingers frozen on the key. Jace noticed.

"You okay?"

She nodded slowly, pushing the door open. "Yeah. Just... loud."

Inside, everything was exactly as they left it-cozy, modest, filled with little reminders of her everyday life: her overstuffed bookshelf, the cracked coffee mug she refused to throw away, the sweater she had draped over the back of the couch two weeks ago. It felt like she was looking at someone else's life. A version of herself that existed before.

Jace set their bags down by the door and turned to her. "We can ease back in. No pressure."

Ava gave a small smile. "Yeah. I know."

But even as she said it, she felt it- that slight tug of anxiety in her chest, like a thread pulling tight again after days of being slack. Reality had returned. And with it, the questions.

---

The next morning, Ava woke alone. For a moment, panic flickered in her chest. Had she dreamed it all? The beach, the dancing in the rain, the promises? But then she heard the quiet clinking of dishes in the kitchen and relaxed. She got up, pulled on one of Jace's flannels, and padded out.

He was standing at the stove, humming under his breath, flipping eggs like a pro.

"You made breakfast?" she asked, voice scratchy.

"I figured we could pretend it's still vacation."

Ava smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "You're too good to me."

He leaned his head back against her shoulder. "No such thing."

But even as they ate-eggs, toast, and slightly burnt coffee-the shift was obvious. The quiet comfort of the cabin had given way to buzzing phones, email notifications, and the looming awareness that their final college semester started in less than a week.

"Have you talked to your advisor yet?" Jace asked casually.

Ava hesitated, then pushed her eggs around her plate. "No. I need to. I've been avoiding it."

"You're still not sure about grad school?"

"I'm not even sure about next week," she admitted. "Everything just feels... undecided. Like I'm standing on the edge of something and I don't know if I'm supposed to jump or turn back."

Jace was quiet for a beat. "You don't have to figure it all out at once. But maybe talking to someone could help."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe."

"And what about you?" she asked, turning the tables. "Have you finished that portfolio for the art residency?"

Jace's expression tightened, just a little. "I'm working on it."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "You haven't started, have you?"

"I have started. I just... haven't finalized anything."

"Jace, the deadline is in two weeks."

"I know."

"Then what's holding you back?"

He looked at her, and for the first time since their trip, there was distance in his eyes.

"I guess I'm scared," he said finally. "That if I try and fail... I won't have anything left to believe in."

Ava softened. "You won't fail. You're talented. You're-"

"I almost failed us," he interrupted, voice low. "I almost lost you."

"You didn't."

"But I could've. That fear-it lingers."

Ava reached across the table and took his hand. "Then let's face it together. Okay?"

He nodded.

---

The days passed quickly. Ava visited her academic advisor, feeling the old weight of decision-making settle on her shoulders again. The pressure to choose a path. Pick a future. Define a direction. Jace, meanwhile, holed himself up in his studio apartment, surrounded by canvases, charcoal sketches, and half-finished ideas. He hadn't told Ava, but he'd scrapped his original portfolio plan completely. After their trip, nothing he'd drawn before felt honest anymore.

He wanted to submit something real-something that reflected not just his skill, but his soul. And that terrified him.

One evening, Ava showed up at his place with takeout. He opened the door looking disheveled-paint on his hands, hair messy, eyes tired.

"Surprise," she said, holding up the food. "I figured you hadn't eaten."

"You figured right."

She stepped inside, looking around. The space was cluttered but full of life-art spilling out of every corner. She noticed a half-finished sketch pinned to the wall: a portrait of her, laughing in the rain.

"You're still drawing me," she said softly.

"I can't stop," he replied.

They ate on the floor, backs against the couch, legs stretched out.

"I missed you," she said.

"I'm right here."

"I know. But it still felt like I missed you."

Jace turned to her. "Do you think we rushed it? Jumped back in too fast?"

Ava blinked. "Where's that coming from?"

"I just... I want this to last. And sometimes when things come back together too quickly, they fall apart again even faster."

She took a deep breath. "I think we're learning how to hold each other without holding on too tight. That's growth. Not rushing."

Jace nodded but didn't say anything more.

---

The next weekend, Camila threw a "We Survived Summer" party.

Ava didn't want to go at first. Crowds, noise, small talk-it all felt like too much. But Camila insisted, and Jace agreed they could use a night out. The apartment was buzzing with music, laughter, and friends they hadn't seen in months.

Camila cornered Ava in the kitchen. "You look different."

Ava raised a brow. "Good different or bad different?"

"Happy different," she replied. "Like... whole."

Ava smiled. "I think I'm getting there."

"So things with Jace are good?"

"They're... real. And yes, good."

Camila sipped her wine. "I'm glad. You deserve good."

Across the room, Jace was talking to some old classmates. One of them-Cassie-laughed a little too loudly at something he said. Ava noticed. And for the first time since their trip, she felt it.

That creeping doubt.

Was it jealousy? Or insecurity? Or just fear?

Jace met her eyes from across the room and smiled, like he was searching for her in the crowd. She smiled back. But the seed had been planted.

---

That night, after the party, Ava lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Jace slept beside her, breathing even and slow. She reached over and touched his arm gently.

"Jace?"

He stirred. "Mm?"

"Do you ever wonder if... if we're trying to make up for lost time too fast?"

He turned toward her, still half-asleep. "Sometimes. But I also think... if we love each other, we owe it to ourselves to try."

She nodded, heart soft.

"I just don't want to lose us again."

"You won't," he said, voice fading. "We're stronger now."

The Monday after the party felt like an abrupt fall from grace. Ava sat in her first lecture of the semester, her notebook open, pen poised-but her mind was miles away. The professor's voice was a muffled drone, and the syllabus in front of her looked more like a warning sign than a roadmap.

Her phone vibrated silently in her pocket. She glanced at the screen:

Jace: Finished something today. Want you to see it.

A smile crept onto her lips despite the heaviness of the day. She texted back:

Ava: After class. Coffee first. I need caffeine to survive.

Jace: I'll bring your favorite.

She tucked the phone away and tried to focus. But her mind drifted to the way his hands moved when he painted, the concentration in his brow, the gentle curve of his smile when he looked at her like she was his whole world. It scared her how much she wanted this to last. It scared her even more that she didn't know how to keep it from slipping away again.

---

Later that afternoon, Ava stood in the doorway of Jace's studio, arms crossed over her chest, watching him unveil the canvas like it was a secret. The painting was bold-unlike anything he'd done before. Stark blacks and soft golds. A window between night and day. And there, in the center, a silhouette of two figures sitting back to back, reaching toward each other but not quite touching.

Ava stepped forward. "That's us."

Jace nodded. "I called it Almost."

The title hit her square in the chest.

"Jace... it's beautiful."

He looked at her carefully. "I didn't want it to be romantic. I wanted it to be true. We were broken for a while. We almost lost each other. And even now, sometimes... I still feel that echo."

Ava nodded slowly. "Me too."

He reached for her hand. "But we're not 'almost' anymore, Ava. We're here."

She smiled gently. "Then maybe you should paint the next one as 'Finally.'"

---

The days bled into each other. Between classes, campus jobs, and Jace's push to finish his portfolio, time with each other became more limited. They texted constantly. Little things-"Don't forget to eat," "Miss you already," "I'm proud of you."

But something had shifted. They weren't avoiding each other. They were just exhausted. Late one night, Ava sat on the couch, a pile of psychology readings in her lap, when her phone rang.

Camila.

"Hey," Ava answered, rubbing her eyes.

"You okay?" Camila's voice was soft but direct.

"Yeah. Just drowning in assignments already."

"And Jace?"

A pause. "Busy."

Camila hesitated. "I saw him on campus today. With Cassie. They looked... close."

Ava's stomach twisted, but she kept her voice even. "Cassie's in his art cohort. They probably had class."

"Probably," Camila echoed. "I just thought you should know."

Ava hung up soon after but didn't return to her readings. Her brain spun in tight, irrational spirals. She trusted Jace... Didn't she?

Still, when he texted "Thinking about you," she replied with "You with Cassie?" before she could stop herself. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Finally, he wrote: We had a group project meeting. Why?

Ava stared at the screen. She could say she just asked. That she wasn't worried. But it would be a lie. And something inside her- some leftover bruise from the version of them that had once shattered- tightened like a knot.

---

Two days later, they finally saw each other. It wasn't like the reunion she wanted. Ava met Jace at his apartment, still carrying the tension in her shoulders. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, but she noticed how distracted he looked. Papers scattered everywhere. Canvases half-painted.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just stressed."

"Did you finish your residency application?"

He exhaled. "Almost. I'm meeting with Professor Lyle tomorrow for a final review."

Ava hesitated, then asked, "Did Cassie help with it?"

He stopped moving.

Then looked at her. "What's going on, Ava?"

"I just... Camila said she saw you two together, and-"

"And you believed there was something going on?"

"No! I mean... I didn't want to. But I don't know. Everything feels so fragile again."

Jace ran a hand through his hair. "We promised we wouldn't let this fade, remember?"

"I remember," she whispered.

"Then why does it feel like you're waiting for it to?"

That broke her.

"Because I've never been good at believing something this good can last."

"I'm not him," Jace said finally. "The version of me who pushed you away last year? He doesn't live here anymore."

"I want to believe that."

"Then do. Please. Because if we don't believe in what we're building... what's the point?"

---

That night, they didn't make love.They fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, backs turned, breaths soft and unsure. In the early hours of morning, Jace woke to find Ava curled against him, one hand gripping the fabric of his shirt. Like she was afraid he'd disappear. He held her close, silently promising himself that no matter how messy this got-he would not let go again.

---

The following afternoon, Jace turned in his final portfolio. Ava watched from across the studio hallway as he stepped into Professor Lyle's office, sketchbook under one arm, anxiety masked behind a brave face. When he came out twenty minutes later, she was waiting.

"Well?" she asked, holding her breath.

He smiled, eyes wide with disbelief. "He said it was my best work. He said he's never seen me paint so truthfully."

Ava launched into his arms, kissing him hard.

They laughed against each other's lips, and for the first time in days, it felt easy again.

---

That night, they returned to her apartment. They didn't need music or candles or the ocean to remind them of what they had.