Page 39 of Midnight Between Us (The Timberbridge Brothers #4)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Keir,

I woke up this morning and didn’t think about you first. That felt strange.

Not like relief, exactly, but like I’d finally stepped out of a dream I’d been stuck in for too long.

For weeks now, you’ve been the first thought in my head and the last one before I fall asleep.

But today, I woke up and just . . . got out of bed.

I call it progress.

I didn’t replay that call in my head again, didn’t let your voice echo—flat, cold, final—telling me to grow the fuck up. Maybe I’m finally starting to.

I made tea, sat by the window, and watched the city outside.

I don’t know what exactly shifted, but something feels different.

I’m still sad. Still hurt. Still trying to figure out which pieces of me belong to the girl I was before you, and which parts I’m supposed to grow into now.

But for the first time in what feels like forever, I wasn’t drowning in all the could-have-beens. I wasn’t waiting.

There’s a girl here who plays guitar in the common room.

She asked if I wanted to help her write a song.

I almost said no—I haven’t felt creative in weeks—but I said yes.

We sat on the floor and talked about dumb things for an hour.

She said I remind her of someone she used to be.

I asked if that was good or bad. She smiled and said, “It’s a beginning. ”

I’m starting to think she’s right.

I’m not saying I’m fine. I still see you everywhere. I still find myself looking at the door, wondering what I’d do if you suddenly walked through it and told me you made a mistake. Then I remind myself that you don’t even know where I’m at.

I still write your name without meaning to, still whisper it into the dark when I can’t sleep. But something is shifting. Slowly. Quietly. And maybe that means I’m healing, even if it hurts.

You don’t have to care. But I wanted you to know I’m trying. Not for you. Not to prove anything. It’s for me. For the baby. For the girl who forgot she was allowed to want more than waiting around for someone who never cared for her.

I haven’t forgiven you yet. Maybe I won’t. But today, I think I finally forgave myself for loving you as much as I did. That has to count for something.

Love you less than I did yesterday,

Simone