The weekend had finally come.
Rowan was all energy this morning—zipping around the apartment, packing the car, humming off-tune to himself like this was a field trip and not a test of her emotional control.
She took the passenger seat beside him, legs crossed, sunglasses on, quiet.
Ash slipped into the backseat just behind her, as always neat and understated—white knit sweater, soft grey pants, hair tied loosely at the back. He looked fresh, cool… and totally unreadable.
He didn't blush. He didn't fidget.
He was just calm.
Too calm.
Rowan adjusted the mirror, clicking his tongue. "We're picking Isa up on the way, then it's straight to the cabin. Should only be three hours if traffic's decent."
Celeste didn't respond.
She already knew what was coming.
Ash hadn't mentioned Isadora all day—not once—but Rowan wouldn't shut up about her.
"She's the one who suggested this trip, you know," he grinned. "Said we should all reconnect. It's been, what, three years?"
Celeste looked out the window. "Mm."
Rowan side-eyed her. "Don't start pouting already. We're barely ten minutes into this thing."
She rolled her eyes.
They pulled into a side street lined with brick apartments. Outside one building, a woman stepped out with a wheeled suitcase and an easy, perfect smile.
Isadora.
Celeste leaned her elbow against the door, trying not to scowl.
Isadora looked even more put together in person—denim jacket, cropped top, high-waisted jeans. She radiated confidence. The type of girl who always knew what to say.
Ash sat up slightly in the back seat.
When Isadora opened the car door, her face lit up. "Ash?"
Ash smiled gently. "Hey, Isa."
"Oh my god, you haven't changed a bit," she laughed, sliding in beside him. "Still dressing like a minimalist prince."
He chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Isadora's laugh was warm, nostalgic. She settled into the seat beside him like they had done this a thousand times before.
Celeste watched through the rearview mirror.
Isadora leaned slightly closer, adjusting her seatbelt with a flick of her wrist. "You still doing the soft boy act, or did college finally toughen you up?"
Ash smiled. "I'm still me."
"Good," she said, with a wink. "Would've been sad if you turned into a macho tech bro or something."
Celeste shifted in her seat. Her nails tapped lightly on the dashboard.
They were laughing now. Sharing old inside jokes. Casual, breezy banter like this was just a reunion of old friends—and nothing more.
Ash wasn't awkward. He wasn't nervous.
But he was… comfortable.
And that felt worse.
Celeste crossed her arms, tuning out Rowan's upbeat playlist as it filled the car with synth-pop and sunshine.
Ash's soft voice floated from behind her as he told Isadora about his new office.
Isadora nodded along, listening with rapt attention.
Celeste bit the inside of her cheek.
She couldn't say anything.
She couldn't glare.
Couldn't grab his hand.
Couldn't sit beside him.
To everyone else, she was just Rowan's younger sister.
No one knew what had happened between her and Ash.
No one knew how she looked at him like he hung the stars.
And right now, Ash was sitting beside another woman, smiling like he had nothing to hide.
Celeste closed her eyes briefly, steadying her breath.
This weekend was going to kill her.
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