It had been three quiet days.
Mornings curled in Jake's arms. Afternoons filled with music, long walks, and shared coffee in his kitchen. Evenings spent on the couch with their legs tangled under a worn blanket, whispering about nothing and everything.
Hriva had been wrapped in it. Soft, full, safe.
But life outside that cocoon had gone silent. The world she used to belong to had grown blurred, and she hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd reached back.
Until her phone buzzed that morning.
She was alone for once. Jake had left early to visit a studio friend, leaving a note by the bed and a faint trace of his cologne on the pillow.
The message lit up her screen just as she stepped out of the shower.
Zara: Don't tell me you've joined a monastery or something. We're seeing you today. 4 PM. Ivory & Pine. Be there.
Niyah: And if you flake, I swear I'll text your mom.
Mira: Wear something cute. You've got to remind the world you exist.
Hriva stared at the screen for a while, towel pressed to her damp hair. Her chest tightened, just a little.
She hadn't realized how long she'd been gone.
The group chat hadn't died without her, clearly. But it had missed her.
She typed slowly.
Hriva: I'll be there.
There was a moment of silence.
Then the flurry came.
Hearts. Threats. One GIF of someone being dragged into a car.
She laughed under her breath and set the phone down. But inside, a twinge of anxiety began to bloom. It wasn't the meet-up. Not exactly. It was the unspoken truth she carried now.
She hadn't told them anything about Jake.
Not a word.
By the time she stepped out of the rideshare car in front of Ivory & Pine, the sun had already begun to soften into golden tones. The café sat like a familiar memory at the corner of the street, its dark green awning fluttering slightly in the warm breeze.
Her boots clicked softly on the sidewalk as she approached. Her fingers tugged at the edge of her jacket, then smoothed her hair. She paused just before the door.
Her reflection in the glass looked... different.
She didn't know if it was the way her eyes seemed calmer. Or the faint pink at the base of her throat from Jake's kisses the night before. But something had changed.
And she wasn't sure if they would notice.
She stepped inside.
The smell of roasted coffee beans and baked cinnamon hit first. Music drifted low from hidden speakers, a soft jazz tune threading through the gentle buzz of conversation and the quiet clatter of cups behind the counter.
And then she saw them.
Zara, Mira, and Niyah were gathered at their usual table by the wide corner window. Three iced drinks sat sweating on the table. A half-eaten croissant. Laughter in the air.
Until they saw her.
Zara's mouth froze mid-sentence. Mira straightened. Niyah's jaw dropped with exaggerated shock.
"Oh my god," Zara said, loud enough for a few nearby tables to look over. "She lives."
Mira blinked. "Is that Hriva? Or some illusion born from caffeine deprivation?"
"Touch her," Niyah whispered. "Make sure she's real."
Hriva rolled her eyes and smiled, but the warmth behind it felt half-formed. She stepped forward and slid into the seat they'd clearly saved for her.
"I deserve that," she said softly.
"You deserve a whole roast," Mira muttered.
Zara leaned forward. "Do you even remember how to hang out with us? Or have you officially become a hermit living on tea and emotional avoidance?"
"I've just... had a lot going on," Hriva offered.
Zara raised an eyebrow. "For two months?"
"Maybe she got abducted by a secret book club," Niyah said, sipping her drink. "Or fell in love with a barista and forgot the rest of us existed."
Hriva laughed. A bit too tightly.
She felt their eyes on her. All three of them. Watching her. Not with anger. But with the sharp, gentle ache of people who had missed her and didn't understand why she left.
Mira tapped her nails on the edge of the table. "Anyway. Since you clearly live and breathe, it's time to catch up. And by catch up, I mean, it's your turn to suffer through our nonsense."
"I'm ready," Hriva said, even though she wasn't.
Zara grinned and leaned back. "Okay, story time. Mira, you go first. Tell her about the yoga guy."
Mira groaned. "Please don't make me relive it."
"Too late," Niyah chimed. "You already traumatized us. Now it's her turn."
Mira sighed, then smirked. "Fine. He was hot. Like, ruin-my-life hot. Met him at a yoga workshop. Flexible in all the wrong ways."
Hriva nearly choked on her drink. "Oh my god."
Zara cackled. "And then he took her on a date and brought out his crystals."
"He asked me to 'align our energies through touch' before the salad even arrived," Mira added with a grimace. "I left during the appetizer."
Niyah snorted. "You still texted him that night."
Mira shrugged. "I was curious."
Zara turned to Niyah. "Your turn. Tell her about the birthday party guy."
"Oh. You mean the one who started crying after we hooked up because he missed his ex?"
"Yes. That one."
Hriva listened as they talked, stories stacking on top of each other like spilled sugar. She laughed. She flinched. She smiled when they teased each other. And somewhere between Zara's confession about an ex-boyfriend's accidental butt dial and Mira's theory about dating apps being cursed, she forgot the pressure that had been gripping her chest.
Until Niyah looked at her directly.
"What about you?" she asked. "Anything spicy in your life lately?"
Zara and Mira turned in unison.
Hriva froze.
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
And then, before she could stop herself, her lips moved.
"I'm... seeing someone."
Silence.
The music didn't stop, but it felt like it had.
Mira's jaw dropped.
Zara blinked slowly. "Wait. What?"
"You?" Niyah said. "You're seeing someone?"
Hriva nodded, heart thudding loud against her ribs.
Zara leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Who? When? How long? Why have you been hiding this from us?"
Mira practically shouted, "Is he real? What's his name? Is he hot?"
And just like that, the table exploded.
Laughter. Curiosity. A dozen questions overlapping. But underneath it all, something else too.
Excitement. And a little hurt.
They hadn't expected this. Not from her.
Not the quiet one. The slow-to-trust one.
Hriva sipped her drink, her cheeks flushed. And for the first time in weeks, she let herself say it.
"His name is Jake."
And they leaned in closer, eyes gleaming.
They wanted everything now.
And she was finally ready to tell them.