Page 28 of Our Little Moments

Having this new perspective of Adrian makes me understand him a lot more. It makes me see why he wants to help me so badly. It also breaks my heart for this family. They were dealt a shitty hand and are trying to play it the best they can.

The more this night goes on, the less I feel alone. We’re all struggling in our own ways, and it comforts me—eases some of my stress and worries.

“I have a really bad dating life,” Hazel starts quietly. “It’s like . . . one train wreck after another. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.” She shakes her head, her hands twisting in herlap. “The worst part is I’m starting to think I’m the problem. What if I’m just not . . . enough? Not interesting enough. Not fun enough. Not good enough for someone to actually want me.” Hazel sighs. “It’s exhausting,” she continues. “Every time it falls apart, I tell myself it’s bad luck, or bad timing. But what if it’s not? What if I’m just the kind of person people get bored of?” She bites her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I hate how much I care. I wish I could be one of those people who swears off love and actually means it. But I can’t.”

My heart breaks. My dating life has been bad too. I kept falling for people who didn’t understand the complexity of magic and the tournaments. I felt misunderstood all the time, which always led to a tough break up.

Layla smiles at her sister. “Hazel, you’re not the problem. If the guys you’re going on dates with don’t see how wonderful you are, then they’re plain idiots.”

Isabella chuckles. “Yeah. Knowing how much their idiocy hurts you makes me want to murder them.”

Hazel laughs.

I smile as the three sisters make space for me to open up to them by opening up themselves.

I look at Layla, curious to know how things are for her. She seems reflective, as if deciding what to share and what not to.

“I struggle with handling criticism,” Layla says, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I know people have opinions—everyone’s entitled to them, I get it. But writing . . . it gave me a voice. When I was younger, after we lost Mom and Dad, I didn’t know how to say what I felt. I didn’t knowhowto be heard. So, I started writing. Stories became the only place I didn’t feel small or invisible.”

She swallows, blinking fast. “So, when someone criticizes my work, it’s not just about the story or the characters. It feels like they’re tearing intome. Like I finally found a way to speak, and now they’re telling me it’s not good enough. ThatI’mnot good enough. And that’s hard to hear. Because sometimes . . . sometimes I start to believe them.”

Hazel moves closer and wraps her arms around her. “You’re valid, Layla. You always have been, and you always will be. I’ve got your back.”

All of us are a little teary-eyed as we hug each other. Any remaining loneliness I had fades away with their arms around me.

Before I know it, the three sisters fall silent, their hope for my answer tangible in the air.

I feel safe enough to do it and . . . I want to be honest. I want them to know they’re not alone too.

“I lost my powers a couple months ago,” I admit, watching as their eyes widen in surprise. But they stay quiet, leaving space for me to keep going if I want to. “I was in a magical tournament, and they justsnapped. It’s been really hard—” My voice cracks, but I keep going. “To watch everything I built crumble before my eyes.” My voice wobbles and I try my hardest to keep my tone honest, yet calm and stable. “So, when I saw a poster for your town, it seemed like the perfect break from everything. And it really has been. The last few days have made me reflect on my life and what I want it to look like. Which sounds like such a stupid thing to struggle with. I’m in my late twenties; my life should be all figured out. But I’m starting over, and it’s overwhelming. Hard. Confusing. Lonely at times.”

I look away from the floor to look at them, reading their faces. Isabella is shocked, Hazel is empathetic, and Layla is understanding.

“Stella,” Hazel says, pure compassion in her voice. “Everyone is figuring things out as they go. No one has everything figured out. It’s not fair to expect yourself to have your entire life figured out right now. All of us have setbacks and successes.”

I never realized how much I needed to hear that until Hazel said the words. I’ve had to step up. My family needed me, and I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. But I’m slowly realizing I took it too far on the other end and ended up putting way too much pressure on myself.

“I lost my powers too, a while ago,” Layla starts softly. “It was a complicated time in our lives.” Her laugh is sad. “I don’t want to say too much because it involves all of us, but basically our family was crumbling. And I felt this . . . pressure over figuring out my life. I was barely fifteen, and we had a complicated time holding everything together without our parents. We all felt that pressure, and for me, it was especially hard. I’ve always been a dreamer; I’m more in my head than real life. One day, I went to a library, desperate for some quiet from everything. I found a rom-com, and I was hooked. I forgot all about my struggles and started escaping life through books. After a while, I started to get these story ideas. I worked really hard and started writing. The more I wrote, the more my powers came back. And it made me feel resilient. Like I could control my life and didn’t have to let others decide it for me. I guess, with that inner strength, my powers came back.” She looked up at me, patience and understanding in her eyes. “I know how hard it is to be powerless. But I promise you, it’s just a phase. A push. It’s telling you, you need to change some things in your life, not that you are weak or a failure. It’s a signal that you need to change.” Shesmiles at me. “If you need company, or someone to talk to, or even advice, I’m here. I understand what you’re going through; I went through it.”

Gosh, this family is amazing. They are all so kind and patient and honest, it feels like my heart will burst.

“I’m here if you need someone to talk too. I’m probably the best listener of the bunch here. Don’t ever feel anxious about talking with me,” Hazel adds.

“And, you already know it, but I’ll say it again, I’m here if you need a friend. If you need me to kill someone, just tell me and I’ll come armed for battle.” We all laugh at Isabella’s enthusiasm. The humor disappears from her eyes as they turn sincere. “Seriously, if something is wrong, you can tell me. If you just need some company, or a coffee, or anything, I’m here to help.”

“Thank you so much,” I say through teary eyes. “You’re making me feel like a part of a community. A family even.” I tell them as they wrap me up in a big hug, almost cutting off my access to oxygen.

“You . . . felt like one of us the day you arrived,” Hazel whispers.

That night, as we all fall asleep on the couch babbling about romance, coffees, and flowers, my heart feels full of bliss and joy andconnection.

Thanks to these women, I have a growing hope that I’ll figure things out.

Eventually.

Chapter 11

Stella

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