"Stay in Boston," he pleads, his voice soft but insistent. His fingers twitch before reaching across the table for mine. The touch is familiar yet foreign, comfort tangled with guilt. "We can figure this out together if you're willing to give this," he gestures between us, "a real shot. I'll start working for Dad, and you can keep writing, keep going to school."

His eyes search mine, filled with an earnestness that makes my chest ache.

"Nora, we could be something fucking amazing." The weight of his next words settles over us like snow. "You're still my person, even if I'm not yours. I just want a chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The light catches his face just right, highlighting all the features that make him Jake—the kindness in his eyes, the hopeful curve of his smile, the steadfast devotion that's never wavered.

For a moment, I let myself imagine it: a life with Jake, safe and sure and uncomplicated. But then Nate's face flashes in my mind, and my heart twists with the kind of longing that feels like the last note of a song hanging in the air, desperate to keep playing.

I stare at him, trying to make myself feel what he wants me to. I try to picture the future he's describing—the ease, the comfort, the predictability. A life mapped out in careful pencil strokes, each detail considered, each step planned. It's safe, steady, and so perfectly Jake. But the harder I try to make it fit, the more suffocating it feels, like trying to force myself into a shape that was never meant for me.

His words hang in the air between us, and suddenly, the truth hits me like a cold wave. He doesn't see the girl who's been clawing her way back from the edge, who's still figuring out how to exist in a world that nearly swallowed her whole. He sees what he wants to fix, not what makes me whole.

"Jake…" My voice is quiet but firm. I shake my head slowly, then with more conviction. "I can't."

His face falls, and guilt surges through me, sharp and unrelenting.

"Why?" he asks, his voice tight. "Why won't you give me a shot, Nora? We could have everything. I have it all figured out."

"I know you mean that," I say, my throat tightening. "And I love you for wanting this. But I can't give you what you're asking for. I'm not ready to commit to something—or someone—when I don't even know who I am right now."

It’s the honest truth.

His jaw tightens, hurt flickering across his face. He leans forward, his words sharp and low. "If it was him sitting here, asking you for all of this, you wouldn't hesitate."

The air leaves my lungs. My silence hangs heavy between us, and Jake exhales sharply, defeat written in every line of his body.