The car pulled to a slow stop outside the apartment.

  The sun had begun to set, casting long golden lines across the pavement. The light felt wrong; too warm, too peaceful for what the world had become. Holly stood beside Jordan in the parking lot, Lila and Marissa a quiet few steps behind. Her hospital discharge papers were still folded in her coat pocket, crinkling with every movement.

  She looked up.

  There it was.

  The apartment window.

  For a split second she almost expected to see Ariel’s face there, waving down at her the way she sometimes did when Holly came home late, Junimo plush tucked by her side. The memory stabbed through her chest, making the sight of the empty pane ache all the more. Her stomach twisted at the sight, a cold rush flooding her chest. For a moment, her knees felt weak, as if the weight of everything was trying to pull her to the ground. That window had always meant coming home. Coming back to Ariel. Now it was just glass, and behind it, a world she didn’t know how to reenter. Third floor. Right where it had always been. Right where Ariel had set the Junimo plush, tucked into the windowsill like it lived there, watching the world. It was still there. Of course it was. That little green creature with its stitched leaf, standing vigil for someone who would never come home.

  Jordan stepped forward, about to say something: soft, supportive, maybe asking if she wanted a moment.

  But Holly just moved.

  She stepped ahead, unlocked the door, and walked inside without a word.

  The apartment was still.

  The air was the same. The light. The scent of coffee and lavender from the diffuser that had clicked off hours ago. But there was something else—something faint and warm that hadn't been there before. Cinnamon? Just a wisp of it. Sweet and earthy, curling through the air like a memory. Ariel had used that spice when she baked, especially on quiet mornings when they had nowhere to be.

  Shoes still by the door. A cup on the counter, rinsed but not put away. Their jackets hanging side by side. Everything untouched since yesterday, when they’d left in a flurry of joy to go launch the game.

  Lila and Marissa followed in behind. They said nothing, just moved quietly through the familiar space. Marissa walked over to the kitchen table, lowering herself slowly into a chair. She set a canvas tote down gently.

  The bag.

  Ariel’s belongings.

  Her dress from the party. Her phone. Her battered messenger bag. Her ring.

  Holly’s eyes locked onto it. Her chest didn’t rise. Didn’t fall.

  The ring.

  The one she had kissed the night she said yes.

  She looked away, forcing her eyes toward Jordan.

  “Abigail at Willowbound,” she whispered, voice shredded and dry. “She needs to know. Someone has to tell her.”

  Jordan nodded immediately. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Holly reached into her coat pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out her phone, handing it over without another word.

  She then grabbed the ring and turned and walked down the hall to the bedroom.

  She didn’t close the door.

  She just disappeared into the stillness beyond it.

  Jordan, Marissa and Lila sat at the kitchen table for hours, trying to keep themselves busy with conversation. The silence between Holly’s cries felt suffocating, almost unnatural. Like the apartment was bracing for the next wave of pain. Every sound seemed louder in the stillness, every creak in the walls or hum of the refrigerator sharp against the heavy quiet. They spoke in hushed voices, careful not to disturb the fragile air around them, as if any wrong word might splinter it completely. It was difficult when Holly was falling in and out of consciousness in the bedroom, waking in a blood-curdling scream every time.

  “How… What are we going to do?” Marissa asked after one particularly horrified scream.

  “We just have to be there for her. Comfort her as much as we can…” Lila said, her hands fidgeting below the table.

  “She’s strong. We have to be stronger,” Jordan choked out, his emotions running deep as he tried to think of ways to help ease the pain of his childhood friend.

  Marissa looked at Lila and Jordan, tears in her eyes, “Guys… Ariel’s dead… How—How do I stay strong for Holly when I… can’t stay strong for myself?”

  Lila pulled her close, tears welling in her eyes, “I know. I—I don’t even think we’ve fully realized what’s happened.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Jordan walked behind them and pulled them into a hug, “We haven’t. We’re all grieving. We lean on each other, but we need to make sure we’re as available to Holly as possible for the time being.”

  There was stirring down the hall. Holly was emerging from the bedroom, in a loose tee and pajama pants, her hair undone and untouched. Jordan walked over to her.

  “Hey, Hol. Do you need anything?”

  Holly looked him in the eyes, exhausted from the crying and the stress and the grief. But her eyes still welled up. “Jordan… what am I going to do…? I don’t...I can’t...nothing feels right. My chest...it’s gone, it’s missing—what am I supposed to...? I...I feel out of sync...”

  Her hands trembled as she clutched at her own shirt, as if trying to hold herself together. “Like I’m walking through water, and everything’s wrong and slow and distorted.”

  She swayed slightly, struggling to stay upright beneath the weight of it all. “I want her back, Jordan...I want my Red back! She was my everything...She was my everything!” She sobbed into his chest.

  Jordan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. Holly sobbed against his chest for a long time, her cries shaking both of their bodies as she clutched at him like he was the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely. Jordan stayed silent, his own tears sliding down his cheeks, falling into her hair as he held her. He let her grief run through him, offering no words, only the solid presence of his embrace. When her sobs finally ebbed enough for her to breathe, he whispered, “I know she was. We all loved her, Holly. I know it feels hopeless right now, but we’ll help you pull through it. Baby steps if need be. We’re all here for you. Me, Maddy, Lila, Marissa...”

  “Jordan,” Holly spoke through whimpers, her voice choked and high, “What about Lin? She’s so young. She just lost her fucking hero, and she doesn’t even know yet.”

  “I can talk to her. I don’t want to put you under anymore stre—”

  “No. I—I need to be there. I need to talk to her. Please…Let me talk to her, Jordan…” Holly pleaded through tears.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Hol. Please. Right now, you need to eat something. You haven’t eaten since last night. Can I make you something? Get you something?” Jordan insisted, keeping his eyes on Holly’s.

  “Just—anything. I promise I’ll eat. Just get me…something.” Holly said as she slowly pulled away and headed to the couch, “Did you tell Abigail?”

  “I did. She, uh...well she took the news as expected... But she’s going to handle communication to the studio.”

  “Thank you, Jordan,” Holly replied, face buried in a pillow on the couch.

  Lila and Marissa pulled chairs over next to Holly and sat there, hands stroking her back and her head. No words were exchanged in those moments. Only the presence of family grieving the loss of their flame.

  A while later, Jordan walked over with a few sandwiches and a bag of chips on a tray. Holly sat up and rubbed her eyes, her stomach twisting at the thought of eating without Ariel across from her. Every meal had always been a ritual together—her laughter over a new recipe, the playful debates about seasoning, the way Ariel’s eyes lit up when Holly fed her. Now there was only silence. The act of lifting food to her mouth felt hollow. It was bland. Not Jordan’s fault. Holly’s food partner was gone. She had no one to share these experiences with anymore. It was just…food now. Nourishment. Nothing more, nothing less. Still she ate. She knew she had to.

  “Thanks, Jordan…” She said softly between bites.

  Jordan could see the despair in Holly’s eyes. He knew what it was; what she was feeling in that moment, “I know it’s nothing close to what Ariel would make.”

  Holly looked at him and, for a second, wondered why he would bring that up. But then...her face softened. Just a bit. The faintest smile formed on her lips. Just enough to give her away, “No, it’s not. Ariel had a way with food. A way no one else ever will. She knew how to make almost anything taste like it came from a Michelin Star restaurant.”

  “Yeah, she did,” Lila chimed in, “I still remember her ‘first attempt’ at making beef wellington a few years ago. It was a masterpiece. I still think she was lying.”

  Marissa added, “Or those madeleines she made for our wedding? I swear she baked clouds into them.”

  Holly, for the first time since the accident, let out a soft chuckle, “None of y'all saw the trial and error phase of those madeleines. She tried for days to get the recipe just right. At one point I found her on her knees, begging the french pastry gods for mercy.”

  Everyone let out the softest laugh after that, the story having granted them permission to let a little joy into the apartment. Holly looked around at the 3 of them, half-eaten sandwich in her hand. She paused on each of them, taking in the smile and the warmth each of them had. Appreciating the way they dropped literally everything to be here for her. Another tear fell down her cheek, grief still overpowering, but now with a small hint of love.

  “Thanks, you guys,” she started, her voice slightly choked. Her chest tightened as she spoke, the weight of gratitude pressing against the grief in her throat. A faint pulse beat in her temples. Ariel would’ve known what to say right now—she always had something about friendship being the one true magic, or how gatherings like this stitched people back together. Holly could almost hear her saying it. It made the moment both unbearable and beautiful. “I—I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same or feel ‘OK’ ever again, but…thank you for being here. For being the best friends I could ever ask for. I know you’re grieving too. Trust me, I know. So, please don’t put it on hold for me. I just want—” She gestured to the circle of them,”—this. This friendship and closeness. It’s what’s going to get me through this.”

  Jordan placed his hand on her knee, smiling through tears, “It’s going to be what gets us all through it. And I promise that we’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

  They stayed like that for a couple of hours, just trading stories and trying to find the joy in the sorrow. Jordan eventually had to leave. He needed to get back home to Maddy and Lin, but he promised to be back with them tomorrow.

  “I love you, J. You know that, right?” Holly said as she pulled him into a tight hug.

  “I know, Hol,” Jordan replied as he wrapped his arms around her, “I love you too.”

  Marissa and Lila were resolved to stay the night, not taking no for an answer.

  “You two don’t have to stay here, you know?” Holly protested.

  “You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” Marissa said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, we can sleep anywhere, trust me. We’re staying the night whether you like it or not,” Lila proclaimed.

  She gave them both a soft look before laying back down on the couch. The afternoon had gotten lighter than expected, but sadness was creeping back in, threatening to take her. Marissa and Lila just sat there speaking softly to each other, frequently checking to make sure Holly was okay and didn’t need anything.

  Holly eventually moved to the bedroom. She lowered herself onto the mattress and pressed her face into Ariel’s pillow, breathing in the faint trace of her shampoo. The sheets still carried her warmth, though fading, like a ghost slipping away. Holly clutched at the empty space, aching for the weight that used to be there, the steady rhythm of breath that once lulled her to sleep. She lay there, somewhere between tears and sleep. She didn’t know if it was going to get easier; if she would ever feel better. Because tonight, for the first time in seven years, the other side of the bed was empty.