Violet’s face falls but only for a second. She straightens, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh hell no, Mags. You do not get to lump me in with things you’d be leaving behind. I’m not a Charleston-based best friend. I’m a lifetime best friend. You could be on Mars, and I’d still be texting you memes and demanding you spill the tea. You don’t lose me because you change your zip code. That’s not how this works.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, loosening something I had clenched tight.

“Nothing—not distance, not time zones, not even some bazillionaire rugby god with great dick—is ever going to end this friendship.” She gestures between us. “You and me? This is forever.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, managing a smile.

She smirks. “Might as well get used to it now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Thank you for always being there for me.” I reach across the table, squeezing her hand. “I love you, Vi.”

“Damn right you do.”

Her voice is light, teasing… but when I look up, her eyes are shining, a little too glassy under the warm cafe lights. She blinks rapidly—like she can will them away—and looks down at her coffee.

And just like that, I see past the jokes, past the bravado.

I take a slow breath, staring down at the delicate shell of a half-eaten macaron. “I love him, Vi. I love him so much. And leaving him tore me apart.”

Violet is silent for a moment. She watches me, her eyes softer now, her expression unreadable. Then she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what does that mean? For the future?”

A long breath escapes my lips. “I don’t know. I have a lot to think about.”

Violet hums, tilting her head. “Hmm.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She smirks. “Oh nothing. Only mentally planning your wedding, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s quite the leap.”

She shrugs. “Not really. You’re in love with a man who will absolutely put a ring on it. A huge one. Wait and see.”

Her words settle somewhere deep in my chest. Because despite everything—the distance, the uncertainty, the choices I still have to make—I don’t know if she’s right.

The drive to my apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the nonstop chatter at the cafe. Violet hums along to the radio, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, but she doesn’t push for more conversation. She knows me too well. Knows I need a moment to sit with my thoughts.

Sunrise paints the city in gold as we drive through familiar streets, but nothing feels the same. Maybe I’m the one who’s changed.