Summer ended the way it always did—quietly, without warning.
The sun still burned bright, but the days felt shorter. The air was changing. A little crisper. A little less wild.
Ash returned to work that Monday. Same office. Same desk. A few new projects. He wore his usual glasses, greeted everyone politely, and answered emails like nothing had changed.
Whenever his thoughts drifted—and they did, often—they always found their way back to her.
Celeste.
Celeste and Lyka had started their third year of college. The grind was real—deadlines, practicum, group chats that never slept. But they handled it together, the way they always had. In between lectures and library sessions, they still found time for walks, cheap coffee, and loud opinions about dumb professors.
Liam was now a second-year. He still joined them at lunch, still let Lyka tease him for being "the junior." But lately, something had shifted between the two. Their banter held a different weight. Their eye contact lasted longer. It wasn't official. But it was there—slow, steady, almost shy. A kind of quiet affection that neither one seemed in a rush to name.
The group was still close. Still tight.
But life had pulled them into their own lanes. And maybe that was okay.
Celeste had been staying at Ash's apartment for the past week. And without a single day passing, they always ended up tangled under the sheets.
It wasn't just about sex—it was comfort, connection, and all the intimacy that came with knowing each other deeply. It was slow some nights, urgent on others, but always mutual. Always real.
Ash never said it out loud, but everything about her presence made his apartment feel less like a place he lived and more like home.
As for Rowan, he'd stayed in France longer than expected. Still with Isadora. He didn't talk much these days, but every now and then, he'd send a short message to one of them, just enough to let them know he was alive and breathing.
Still here.
I'm fine.
Don't worry.
That night, Ash was at the dining table, finishing up a presentation on his laptop. Celeste sat nearby, chewing chips and poking at him with her foot whenever he zoned out.
"You're not even typing," she said without glancing up.
"I was."
"No, you were just staring at your desktop."
"I'm… thinking."
"You're thinking with your eyes closed?"
Ash chuckled.
"Maybe."
They both laughed softly. It was the kind of domestic quiet that felt warm and full. Like the world had slowed down just for them.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, expecting a work email. But the name on the screen made him sit up straighter.
Rowan.
It was just a photo.
Ash tapped it open.
The image loaded slowly—a small, bundled newborn wrapped in a pale blue blanket. Eyes closed. Wispy hair. A hospital tag still on the tiny wrist.
Ash blinked, unsure what he was looking at for a moment.
He smiled faintly and typed:
Ash:
Cute. Whose baby is that?
A reply came almost instantly.
Rowan:
Mine.
Ash snorted under his breath.
Ash:
Lol. Really, whose baby?
Celeste leaned over curiously.
"Who are you texting?"
"Rowan," Ash replied absently, still smiling. "He just sent a baby pic."
"Whose baby?"
"That's what I asked—"
Another message came through.
Rowan:
Isa.
Rowan:
And mine.
Ash's smile vanished.
His breath caught for a second. He stared at the screen, rereading the words as if they'd change the third time around.
Celeste caught the shift in his face.
"Ash? What is it?"
He didn't answer. He simply handed her the phone.
She took it, scanned the messages—and stilled.
"Wait… are you serious?"
He nodded slowly.
"She had the baby…"
Celeste sank back into the chair.
"Holy shit."
The room went quiet.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
It wasn't just the news. It was what it meant. That someone they knew—someone close—had taken a massive leap forward in life. One none of them were expecting so soon.
A baby.
Rowan was a father now.
And just like that, reality hit them all.
They weren't kids anymore.
Life wasn't waiting around.
Isadora, who once had a thing for Ash, had ended up with Rowan—the guy who had loved her quietly for years.
Liam used to like Celeste. Now he laughed a little softer around Lyka. Something was changing there, even if they hadn't named it yet.
Rina remained single, but never desperate. She chased no one, compared nothing, and still laughed the loudest.
And Ash? He had Celeste.
Their days were full of teasing, kisses, and nonstop sex—like, truly nonstop. Condoms? Everywhere. In his car, behind the shampoo bottles, in the kitchen drawer next to the scissors, even beside the rice cooker (don't ask).
But Celeste?
She'd grin, toss one aside, and say, "Do we really need this?"
And Ash—logical, careful, plan-everything. Ash would hesitate for about three seconds…
Then give in, every time.
Because logic never stood a chance against the way she kissed him.
Everyone was slowly moving forward.
Not in perfect lines or timelines—but in real, personal ways.
They were learning how to grow and still stay close.
Learning that life doesn't always come with announcements. Sometimes it just… shifts.
And maybe that's what growing up really is.
Not a big moment, but a bunch of small ones that change you quietly.
.
.
.
— End —