“The subject line! ‘As Seen on TV’ is the title of my story! Every week, Derek selects one story to highlight in the newsletter header as a way to grab the readers’ attention. This week he chose mine.” My body tingled in a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“Of course he did. No brainer, Squirt.”

Kate clapped her hands. “This is the coolest thing ever. My bestie’s got some serious clout!”

“Shh. Time to read.” My limbs felt light with joy.

It was silent for a minute until Mom said, “Oh, Adi. This is wonderful.” Her eyes shimmered with tears.

“It is,” Kate agreed, her voice soft.

I read the story again, almost in a dream state. No matter how many times I saw my work in double-spaced, twelve-point Times New Roman font in a Word document, there was something about seeing it professionally printed in Garamond typeface in a magazine (digital or not) that made it feel like it was the first time, like it was someone else’s piece, like it was real. I sighed happily. All the struggles that had come before—every rejection from Derek and others—had been worth it to reach this moment.

If my life were a movie, this scene would involve a dance montage for sure.

“I wonder if Finn will read it.” Kate breathed sharply and slapped her hand against her red-painted mouth.

“It’s fine. The thought has crossed my mind too.” An understatement. The only way he’d see the story was if he subscribed to Tea. Or if the article went viral, but I wasn’t even confident it would reach the twenty thousand unique visitors Derek had thrown out as the condition for the full-time staff position.

At least once a day since talking things through with my mom, I drafted a text to Finn: Can we talk? How are you? I’m sorry, but only if you’re sorry too. Then I deleted the text without sending it. The story was my way of opening the door, hoping Finn would walk through it.

Was it cowardly? Perhaps.

But a text could go both ways. If Finn was on the same page, it would be instant gratification. We’d kiss and make up. Hooray! But on the flip side, if he blew me off, I’d also have my quick and dirty answer: No.

Since I wasn’t ready to have my heart smashed into a million pieces yet, I chose purgatory.

Communicating indirectly through my story prolonged the hopeful, if not uncertain, stage. It kept the dream alive a little longer, while also giving me time to process the possibility he’d moved on. With any luck, by the time I accepted it was over—if it came to that—it wouldn’t hurt as much.

It also made for a much better story.