He spun on his heel, his steps deliberate, his resolve unshaken as he wrenched the door open. His father’s voice followed him, low and deliberate. “Think about it, Sebastian. You have until tomorrow.”
“Thanks. For absolutely nothing.” The door slammed shut behind him, and Bas exhaled sharply. His heart pounded, his mind raced. But one thing was certain—no matter what his father tried, he was never letting Evin go.
__________
Evin
The softness of the blanket and the scent of orange blossoms grounded her before she even opened her eyes. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the tall windows, and for a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then, her gaze landed on a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, along with a note beside it:
"I'm in the garden. Come out if you want. Or sleep in."
She traced the rim of the glass with her fingertips, the cold surface grounding her. The scent of orange blossoms drifted through the open window—a quiet whisper of familiarity. Jonas’s garden.
It felt strange to be here again after all these years.The memories were hazy but still alive, like echoes of a time when she, Jonas, Hannah, and Shawn had been inseparable. Summers filled with adventures that only made sense to them—sneaking into the marina, daring each other to climb rooftops, making up stories that felt like the greatest truths of their childhood.
Shawn had been part of it, too, until his family was stationed somewhere else. Military life. One day he was there, the next he wasn’t. That was just how it worked.
After that, it had just been the three of them. And in those years—when she and Bas still hadn’t figured out what they were to each other—she had grown closer to Jonas.
He had always been the one who went along with everything, never questioning, never judging. Whether it was breaking into an abandoned boat at the harbor or walking through Montecito like they owned it, Jonas had been right there, laughing beside her.
And then therehad been moments with him that had felt… different.
Not many, but enough to make her wonder. Little things—his gaze lingering just a second too long, his hand brushing against hers and neither of them pulling away. Had she imagined it? Or had he wanted more?
She had never truly asked herself what if?
Or maybe she had. A long time ago.
Evin pushed the thought away and stood up. She reached for the glass and took a sip. Then, quietly, she opened the door and stepped into the garden.
The air was fresh but not cold, carrying the light scent of orange blossoms—something she recognized from Jonas’s garden. She picked up the glass of cold, freshly squeezed juice, the coolness of it grounding her as it pressed against her trembling fingers.
"Morning," Jonas called, already sitting by the edge of the pool, his feet dangling in the water. His hair was tousled, his posture loose—like someone who was fully present in this moment, undistracted by anything else.
"Morning," she murmured back but didn’t move toward him. Instead, she remained standing, her eyes drifting toward the palm trees, their shadows stretching across the terrace.
"Freshly squeezed juice," he remarked with a faint grin. "You’re still the same."
She merely shrugged, eventually lowering herself into one of the chairs, her gaze sweeping across the garden once more. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. Jonas gave her space, but Evin knew he was waiting.
"You’re up way too early for someone who barely slept last night," he finally noted, his tone casual but observant.
"Sometimes sleeping doesn’t help," she answered shortly, taking a sip of juice. The coolness of the glass in her hand wasn’t enough to quiet the heat simmering in her chest. She wanted to look at Jonas, but her eyes remained locked on the edge of the pool. "Besides, you didn’t sleep much more than I did."
Jonas raised aneyebrow, studying her briefly before turning back to the water. "True. Sometimes it only makes things louder." His tone was calm, almost offhanded, but Evin picked up on the subtext. He knew more than he was letting on.
She only nodded, absentmindedly twirling the glass in her hand. The juice tasted fresh, but she had no appetite. Her thoughts were too tangled to focus on something as simple as breakfast.
"Evin," Jonas said, his voice suddenly quieter. "You know I’m not here to push you, right? But... I can see you’re carrying more than you should be."
Her fingers tightened around the glass, and she kept her gaze fixed downward. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she muttered, though her voice wavered.
"Of course you do," he replied evenly. His stare was steady, but not demanding. "I just need you to know that I’m here for you. And that none of this is your fault."
There it was—that sharp, piercing ache. And she knew exactly where it came from. It wasn’t just the weight of his words. It was the disappointment that she wasn’t hearing them from Bas. It was the pain of realizing she was running again, seeking shelter in someone else’s presence instead of facing what she should.
Jonas’s words hit her hard, and she bit her lip. "You don’t understand," she mumbled. "This... this is too complicated. Too much."