Chapter 7 The Edge Of You

Ava didn't say goodbye.

She left a note instead.

Jace,

I loved you when I wasn't supposed to. I still do.

But I also have to become the girl I was supposed to be-before you, during you, and maybe after you, too.

Please don't come looking for me. Because if you do, I might not walk away again.

A.

She folded it, slid it under the cracked teacup on the rooftop table, and walked away.

Her plane left in twelve hours.

She didn't cry.

Not at the bookstore.

Not at the airport.

Not even when the flight attendant asked, "First time leaving home?"

Because Boston wasn't home anymore.

He was.

And she'd left him behind.

Four Months Later

Baltimore, Maryland

Johns Hopkins Medical Campus

Ava buried herself in rotations, research, and twelve-hour shifts.

She cut her hair. Changed her number. Erased every playlist Jace had sent her.

But nothing helped.

Because some love doesn't leave bruises-it becomes them.

Every time she passed someone on a motorcycle...

Every time she heard a Hemingway quote...

Every time she caught herself tapping her fingers anxiously-

He was still there.

Living in the quiet between heartbeats.

One night, she opened her email.

Subject: Unknown

Sender: J.R.

She clicked.

I never went looking for you like you asked.

But you still found your way into everything I touched.

Hope you're building something beautiful.

-J

She stared at it for a long time.

Then deleted it.

Without replying.

Six Months Later

Boston

Whitmore Books-Reopening Night

The bookstore had been rebuilt, renovated, and renamed: Sinclair & Co.

Casey stood behind the register in a silk jumpsuit, smiling nervously as the crowd filed in.

That's when he walked in.

Jace.

Clean. Collected. Suit jacket thrown over one shoulder. No helmet.

He approached slowly, scanning the new place like a ghost stepping back into the world.

Casey's heart skipped. "She's not here," she said, before he could ask.

He gave a sad smile.

"I know."

He placed a box on the counter.

Inside was the old poetry notebook.

A ring on a silver chain.

And a sealed letter addressed to Ava Sinclair.

Casey stared. "You still love her?"

His voice was quiet.

"Every fucking second."

Then he turned around and left.

Two Weeks Later

Baltimore

Ava opened the package.

She read the letter.

And for the first time in months-

She broke.

Shattered.

Sank to the floor in her scrubs and cried into her knees until she couldn't breathe.

Then she picked up the notebook.

On the last page, in his messy scrawl, one final line:

Some people are meant to burn, not stay.

But damn, didn't we make beautiful fire.

She closed the book.

Placed it in a drawer.

And went back to work.

Final Scene

One Year Later

Ava stands on stage, receiving an award for medical innovation in trauma care.

She's graceful. Brilliant. Applauded.

When asked about her motivation, she smiles faintly.

"I once knew someone who taught me that healing isn't about perfection. It's about forgiveness."

The crowd claps.

She walks offstage, heart steady.

Outside, a black motorcycle passes the venue-fast. Gone in a flash.

She doesn't chase it.

Just watches the smoke trail disappear into the horizon.

Then she whispers to no one:

"Goodbye, Jace."

And walks away.