The days in New York blurred like brushstrokes on a painting, vivid and fleeting all at once. Each hour is a whirl of familiarity—visiting old haunts, laughing over dinners with family, and reconnecting with friends who'd known her before the spotlight. But amid the bustle and nostalgic warmth, it's Harper who made the days matter most.
Even with Harper gone for stretches at a time—caught up in endless meetings and last-minute negotiations with her publisher—Rachel never felt alone. Harper always came back, even if it's well past midnight, smelling like subway dust and printer ink, dropping her bag by the door just to fall into Rachel's waiting arms.
But Rachel knew herself too well. She knew how easily jealousy could creep in—how it whispered in the silence between texts, in the knowledge that Harper is far away, surrounded by people who had access to her brilliance for hours at a time. So Harper sent updates. Every hour. Where she is. Who she's with. What she's doing.
