Page 30 of Our Little Moments

“Stella?” Layla asks.

I want to cry. I want to scream. It feels like I’m going to explode. The pressure is so heavy all the time. No matter what I do, it never is fucking enough.

I should be back home, but I don’t want to go back. At least not now—

Every thought halts to a stop when Layla wraps her arms around me from behind.

How did these siblings learn how to give the best hugs?

I try to pull back slightly, but she still holds me, rocking us gently side to side. For the first time in what feels like forever, the overthinking goes quiet, and the relief floods through me.Finally, some quiet.

“Stella,” Layla murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I just want you to know . . . you don’t have to go through this alone.”

I smile, nodding through teary eyes. We don’t say anything else after that.

…

When I get home, I grab my phone and make a call.

Layla’s embrace and soothing words helped clear some of the doubts away.

I need to let go of the power I used to give to other people’s words, and that starts with ignoring their opinions on what I should do. I need to learn to trust myself, one step at a time, even if it feels impossible right now. After all, no one has all the answers.

But there is one person whose opinion I really want to hear right now.

Derek picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Stella,” he says warmly.

I smile despite myself. “Hey, Derek.”

We stay quiet before he breaks it by barking a loud laugh. “Come on, Stella. Tell me what’s on your mind. Your silence is freaking me out.”

I laugh, a little nervous. “I was just wondering . . . do you think I should come back home?”

The pause on the other end feels like it stretches on forever.

I start rambling, unable to hold my thoughts back from him. “I’ve been seeing posts, articles . . . people are asking where I am. Maybe I should go back. If I stay away for too long, I might lose my chance at—”

“I don’t think you should come back to the city.”

I freeze, then, unable to help it, I chuckle. “You feel better now that I’m not annoying you all the time?”

He laughs. “No. I loved our time together just as much as you did. But I think you need the distance.” His voice softens. “I see now how much you needed a break. You need time to breathe.”

I want to jump through the phone and hug him.

But my heart truly cracks when he whispers, regret in his voice, “I’m sorry if I was unsupportive that day. I’m sorry for not seeing the signs sooner.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. “What? No, you have nothing to—”

“Yes, I do. You’re my best friend. I should have seen the signs that you needed a break from everything earlier. I should have talked to you about the unhealthy behaviors you had. Instead, I kept quiet. I was so caught up with my own bullshit that I didn’t allow you to see through your own. I’m sorry for that, Stella.”

Now I really am going to cry. “I’m sorry too.”

He sighs, and I can tell he’s as emotional as I am. “I’m proud of you, you know?” His voice is quiet, but I hear his smile in every syllable.

Then Derek keeps going—Crap, I need a tissue box now—“I know you haven’t been feeling like yourself for a long time, but you’re getting there, and I’m proud of you for that.”

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