A knock finally broke the moment.

  The front door opened slowly, and Jordan stepped inside, his expression tired but warm. Maddy followed right behind, gently holding Lin’s hand. The little girl blinked sleepily, her face pressed against Maddy’s coat.

  Holly’s heart skipped. Lin. This perfect, wonderful, happy child. She was about to have her world shattered. Holly had begged Jordan to let her talk to Lin. And in this moment, she wasn’t sure if she regretted it. Now that she was looking into those big brown eyes and round face, she wasn’t sure if she could.

  But she knew she had to. She could take it. The crying, the screaming, the hitting. She knew it all too well lately. She could take it.

  Lin spotted Holly, her face brightening instantly.

  “Auntie Hol!” she called, tugging free and running across the apartment.

  Holly stood, catching her in a gentle hug. Her arms wrapped around the child almost instinctively, and she sank to her knees, holding her close, burying her face in Lin’s hair as fresh tears rolled down her face.

  Holly held Lin close, her arms trembling. But the little girl leaned back slightly, her brow furrowed as she looked up at Holly.

  "Where’s Auntie Red?"

  The question landed like a blow. Holly's breath caught. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. She cupped Lin’s cheek gently, her thumb brushing under the child’s eye.

  "Sweetheart," she whispered, voice cracking. "Auntie Red… she had to go away."

  Lin tilted her head. "When’s she coming back?"

  Holly’s chest collapsed inward. Her vision blurred. She glanced at Jordan, then at Maddy, but neither could speak. Lila and Marissa stood frozen behind them.

  Holly turned back to Lin, brushing her hair from her face. "She’s… not coming back, baby. Not this time."

  Lin’s smile faltered. Her face scrunched up, trying to understand. "Why not?"

  Holly searched for the gentlest words. "Because… she got hurt. Really bad. And…sometimes when people get really, really hurt, their bodies…they… stop working. And they don’t wake up…"

  Lin blinked. "Like sleeping?"

  “Kind of like sleeping…" Holly said softly. "But it means we can’t see them anymore. But they’re still with us, in here." She touched Lin’s chest as her voice started to give. "In our hearts."

  There was a long pause. Lin’s face twisted through emotions as she tried to wrap her mind around what was going on.

  Then Lin’s voice rose, sharp with confusion and hurt. "But that’s not fair! She was mine too!"

  The words cracked something open in Holly. She pulled Lin tighter against her. "I know, baby. I know. She was yours."

  "I didn’t say bye!" Lin cried, pounding her small fists against Holly’s shoulder. "I didn’t get to! Why didn't she tell me bye?!"

  Holly sobbed openly, holding her despite the pain. "She wanted to, Lin. She knew you loved her more than anything."

  "Bring her back! I want her back!" Lin screamed.

  "Me too," Holly choked. "Me too. Every second."

  Lin broke, burying her face into Holly’s neck, wailing now. Holly rocked her slowly, her chest wracked with pain and grief. But then Lin suddenly pushed back, her face red and tear-streaked.

  "No!" she cried, shoving herself away from Holly. "You’re lying!"

  "Lin—"

  "She’s coming back! I’m going to show her my drawing!"

  Lin turned and bolted, her tiny feet pounding down the hall. Holly staggered to her feet, calling after her, but the words caught in her throat. Lila and Marissa stood frozen. Jordan exchanged a look with Maddy, who gently moved to follow.

  A moment later, a distant bedroom door slammed.

  The silence that followed was heavier than any before. Holly looked at her hands, still damp with Lin’s tears, and sank slowly to the floor. Jordan came forward and knelt beside her, his hand on Holly’s back.

  "She’ll be okay. She just loves you and Ariel more than anything. We’ll tell her stories. We’ll show her pictures. We’ll make sure Auntie Red is always with her."

  Holly nodded through tears. Her breath hitched again as she stared down the hallway.

  In that quiet, aching space, Holly's thoughts were on Lin’s pain. To the way her tiny fists had struck out in confusion, the way her voice cracked when she screamed for someone who would never come back. That grief, raw and innocent, burned deeper than anything. Holly pressed a hand over her heart, wishing she could take it all away, wishing she could give Lin a world where Auntie Red still smiled and waited for her drawing.

  The apartment remained hushed. Lila, Marissa, and Maddy sat around the kitchen table once more, the letter now folded and resting beside an untouched mug of tea. Holly sat nearby, silent, her arms around her legs as she curled into the corner of the couch.

  They had begun the slow, heavy process of planning. It was Marissa who first brought it up, voice low and careful.

  "We should think about the memorial. Something simple. Something beautiful."

  Lila nodded slowly. "Something that feels like her. Not too formal. But meaningful. Maybe... outdoors?"

  "Like a park?" Maddy offered. "Or maybe the bluff near the Sound. She liked the view there."

  Marissa frowned thoughtfully. "What about the museum? She always joked about sneaking plushies into it. She loved that place."

  Lila looked toward the living room, her voice soft. "Or maybe the rooftop garden downtown. The one with the fairy lights. She took Holly there once. Said it felt like the best form of quiet magic."

  They went back and forth, voices careful, ideas gentle and meandering, each one trying to find the right weight and shape for grief.

  Then Holly lifted her head, her voice a rasp. "Willowbound."

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  They all looked over.

  "That’s where she lived," Holly continued. "That’s where she loved...where she created. It should be there."

  The others nodded. Slowly at first. But then with quiet certainty.

  "She built that place with everything she had," Lila murmured.

  "And it gave her so much back," Marissa added. "It’s the only place that makes sense."

  "We’ll talk to Abigail," Maddy said, gently. "We’ll make it happen."

  They shared a look across the table—Marissa's eyes swollen and glassy, Lila’s jaw trembling slightly, Maddy blinking back fresh tears. No words passed between them, but in that gaze was a fierce, unspoken vow: to carry Ariel’s memory, to be strong for each other, to be the family she’d left behind. Grief-soft and steady. Something solid amid the heartbreak.

  In the stillness of the kitchen, surrounded by the lingering presence of Ariel’s life, they began to put the pieces together. For her. For each other. For what came next.

  The apartment was quiet. Dim winter light filtered through the blinds, painting the hardwood floors in long, soft shadows. Hours had passed since Lin had run crying down the hallway. Lila and Marissa were curled together on the couch, quiet, their eyes puffy from tears, the letter still resting nearby.

  Holly stood in the bedroom doorway.

  She hadn’t moved for a long time. Not since Jordan left with Lin. Not since the front door had clicked shut.

  Her eyes were fixed on the bag. It sat on the low bench at the end of the bed, just as Marissa had placed it. Plain black canvas. Heavy with the things Ariel had taken with her the day before: her gold dress folded neatly inside, her phone, her messenger bag, her ring.

  The sight of it made Holly ache.

  She stepped forward slowly. The floor creaked beneath her bare feet. She reached out with tentative fingers and opened the zipper. One by one, she pulled out each item, laying them on the bedspread with reverent care.

  Ariel’s phone was cold in her hand. Holly turned it over. The lock screen lit up with a picture of them taken months ago on the ferry to Bainbridge. Ariel was kissing Holly’s cheek, her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes squinting in laughter. Holly’s own face was frozen in surprise and delight. The moment had been spontaneous—a timed selfie gone in a direction only Ariel could take it.

  Her thumb hovered over the screen.

  She unlocked the phone. Ariel hadn’t changed the password. Of course she hadn’t.

  There were texts, missed messages. A notification for a Slack ping. But Holly barely registered them.

  Instead, she scrolled to the photo gallery.

  The screen filled with images—dozens of them. Selfies on ferry rides, pictures of pancakes Ariel had proudly made, snapshots of plushies Holly had posed for fun. There were blurry photos from late-night coding sessions, and sweet, quiet captures of Ariel asleep with Lin curled beside her. Each one hit like a needle under Holly’s ribs.

  She paused on a photo of Ariel holding up a tiny red Junimo plush like it was a sacred artifact, grinning with ridiculous pride. Another showed Ariel sitting on the balcony wrapped in a blanket, staring out at the water, bathed in morning light. Holly remembered that moment clearly—how still and perfect it had felt, how safe.

  She kept scrolling. The photos were her lifeline now. Her proof. Her heartbreak.

  Scrolling past photos, Holly’s thumb hesitated over the Voice Memos app. She opened it, the list of recordings filling the screen. She tapped one at random—Ariel’s voice filled the room, cheerful, reminding herself to buy flour. Another was a stray melody hummed off-key. A third was a half-finished thought about a game mechanic, cut short by laughter. Each one made Holly ache, made her want to both smile and collapse at once.

  Then her eyes caught on one title that froze her in place: “Violet!”

  Her breath caught. For her? Holly’s thumb hovered above the title, trembling. What if it was nothing? What if it was everything? The thought of hearing Ariel’s voice say something that was meant for her both terrified and electrified her.

  She hesitated, breath shallow, then finally tapped it, pulse thrumming in her ears.

  The recording crackled to life, but something was wrong.

  A burst of static hissed through the speaker, cutting in and out like a broken signal. Ariel’s voice flickered beneath the noise. Fragmented.

  "Hol... ...let! I......nd......yo...a..in. I ...omi...! I lo..."

  The message warped into a shriek of distortion before cutting off entirely.

  Holly jerked back, her thumb trembling over the screen. Her heart pounded as silence flooded the room once more.

  She replayed it, but the distortion remained unintelligible. Haunting. The words hadn’t been clear. She didn’t know what Ariel had said.

  Only that it had sounded like a cry across a chasm. And it had said her name. The silence that followed felt louder than anything.

  Holly held the phone to her chest. She could feel the thudding of her own heart through the plastic and glass. For a second, just a second, she imagined that if she squeezed tightly enough, Ariel might say something else. One more word. One more laugh.

  But there was nothing. Just the soft hum of the room and the steady beep of a truck reversing somewhere outside.

  She curled forward, the phone still clutched in her hand, and rested her forehead against the edge of the bed. Her shoulders began to shake.

  It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Ariel had been planning a weekend trip. Ariel had been talking about pancakes. Ariel had been alive.

  Now all she had was the dress. The ring. A phone with photos and a broken voice recording that felt like a lifeline.

  She didn't know how long she stayed there, but eventually, she reached up and touched the edge of Ariel’s dress. The fabric was soft and warm from the sunlight that had fallen across it. Holly let her fingers drift over the gold silk, then pulled it toward her, cradling it in her arms.

  She sat on the floor with it, eyes closed, breathing it in. The scent of Ariel's perfume still clung faintly to the fabric.

  She rocked slightly, just enough to feel like she wasn’t entirely falling apart.

  The phone buzzed once more in her lap. Another missed message. She didn’t look.

  There was only one voice she wanted to hear.

  The next morning crept in slowly. Pale light slipped through the windows, brushing the walls with the soft gray of early day. The apartment was quiet, except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of old pipes shifting.

  Holly stumbled out of the bedroom, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her head throbbed. Her eyes burned. Maddy was already up, standing at the stove in pajama pants and a hoodie, pouring hot water over a waiting filter of coffee grounds.

  She turned as Holly entered, offering a small, sad smile.

  "Hey," Maddy said gently. "You’re up. How’re you feeling?"

  Holly shuffled to the table and pulled out a chair. "Like I had a nightmare," she murmured, voice scratchy, rubbing her eye.

  Maddy set down a mug in front of her. "You were screaming Ariel’s name last night," she said quietly, taking the seat across from her. "I didn’t know if I should wake you. I just... I didn’t want to make it worse."

  Holly didn’t answer right away. She stared down at the coffee, watching steam rise in quiet swirls. Her fingers wrapped around the mug, seeking warmth.

  Minutes passed in silence.

  Then Holly glanced up, still rubbing her eye, her voice distant. "I have a headache and my eye is killing me."

  Maddy tilted her head slightly. "Yeah, your eye looks kinda weird..."

  Holly blinked, then reached for her phone and turned the front camera on.

  Her violet eye was bloodshot. Bright red veins spiderwebbed across the whites, the iris still rich and striking, but framed in a kind of fragile fire. She stared at it, trying to figure out what happened.

  The sound of a knock at the door startled them both.

  Maddy stood, brushing her hands on her pajama pants. “I’ll get it.”

  She headed to the door and opened it to reveal Lila, bundled in a pale pink hoodie and a puffy white coat, her arms full of a bakery bag and a tray of coffee cups.

  “I brought donuts and kolaches,” she said softly. “And cinnamon rolls. I didn’t know what people would want.”

  Maddy stepped aside to let her in. Lila moved gently, like the apartment itself might shatter under too much sound. Her eyes flicked to Holly, still seated at the table, still staring into the face of her own reflection.

  “I thought we could all eat something,” Lila offered, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Holly rubbed her eye, slowly lowering her phone. She gave a faint nod but said nothing.

  Lila set the bag and tray on the table, noticing Holly’s eye but not saying anything. Maddy helped her pull out cups and open the box of warm pastries. The sugary scent filled the kitchen, softening the air, giving it a kind of sleepy comfort.

  Holly finally looked up.

  “What kind did you get?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  Lila brightened, just a touch. “The cream cheese ones you like. And blueberry. I also got sausage and cheese kolaches. And plain glazed, in case... I didn’t know if—”

  “It’s perfect,” Holly whispered.

  Lila sat beside her, reaching out to gently rest her hand over Holly’s.

  “I didn’t sleep much,” she said. “I kept thinking about how Ariel used to make pancake towers when she was stressed. Remember that time she turned the whole kitchen into a diner?”

  Holly gave the smallest smile. “She made me wear a name tag that said ‘Customer of the Year.’”

  “She tried to get Jordan to tip her with Pokémon cards,” Maddy added, laughing once under her breath.

  “She burned the bacon so bad, the smoke alarm went off,” Lila murmured, eyes glassy.

  The room went quiet for a moment.

  “I’d do anything to have another one of those mornings,” Maddy said softly.

  No one replied. They didn’t need to.

  Holly reached for a kolache, holding it in both hands like it might anchor her to the present.

  She didn’t eat it yet. Just held it. Warm and soft. Something real.

  Something she could still feel.