Tides of Change
The gentle crash of waves echoed in the background as the sun began to set, casting the sky in fiery hues of orange and lavender.
Inside the house, the celebration had calmed to a quiet hum, plates cleared, laughter faded to soft conversations, and music reduced to background whispers.
Nora sat alone on the balcony, fingers curled around a warm mug of tea she barely sipped.
Her lips still tingled from the kiss she hadn't expected, from the boy she had tried so hard to protect her heart from.
Eli. His name pulsed through her mind like a soft, persistent beat.
She had meant every word she said in his room, but the kiss? That had shaken something loose inside her.
Behind her, the glass door creaked. She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Nora," Eli's voice was low, cautious.
She turned slightly, offering a small smile. "Hey. Feeling better?"
"I should ask you that," he replied, stepping out to join her.
He leaned on the rail beside her, leaving just enough space between them for unspoken words to breathe.
"You didn't have to lie to Lena, you know."
Nora looked down into her tea.
"I know.
But I didn't want to be a complication.
You… and Amelia, it always looked like something real."
Eli sighed.
"It was.
Maybe it still is.
I don't know. But earlier, when I kissed you…" He paused. "It didn't feel like a mistake."
Nora turned her face toward him, her expression unreadable.
"Then what did it feel like?"
"Like I was finally seeing you."
A silence stretched between them, taut and humming.
Nora broke it first. "Maybe you saw me too late."
Eli winced, guilt shadowing his face.
"I didn't plan that kiss, Nora.
I wasn't trying to confuse you.
I just… I was overwhelmed. You were there, always there. And in that moment"
"I get it," she said, more softly than he expected.
"But Eli, I can't be your moment. Not while you're still tied to someone else in your heart."
He looked at her then, really looked, and saw the truth in her eyes, brave, bruised, and still tender.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She nodded. "I know."
Behind them, the sliding door opened again, and Amelia stepped out, her eyes moving between the two of them before landing on Eli.
"Hey," she said gently. "Just checking in. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Nora stood. "No, it's okay.
"I was just leaving."
"Nora—" Eli started, but she only smiled.
"Rest well," she said to him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then to Amelia, with a knowing softness, "Take care of him."
And she walked back inside, leaving a silence that Amelia didn't know how to fill.
Eli glanced down at his hands. "She's amazing."
"She is," Amelia said, watching the door close behind Nora.
"But you're not in love with her, are you?"
Eli looked up. Slowly, he shook his head. "No."
Amelia said nothing.
The wind moved around them, stirring the sea below and everything uncertain between them.
Salt in the Silence
Nora slipped into the dim hallway, her steps light but her heart heavy.
She reached her room, closed the door gently, and leaned her back against it, finally letting the silence wrap around her like a blanket, one not warm, but heavy.
Her fingers touched her lips.
The kiss still lived there, imprinted like a bruise that hadn't bloomed yet.
Eli's words replayed in her head, scattered fragments stitching together like a slow unraveling thread:
"I didn't plan that kiss… I was overwhelmed… You were always there…"
Always there.
Nora moved to the edge of her bed and sat down, folding her hands tightly in her lap.
The ache wasn't because he kissed her.
It wasn't even because she had kissed him back.
It was because, despite everything, she had hoped.
Even after telling herself she was fine with being the friend, the silent protector, the one who lied to Lena to protect Amelia's heart,
Nora had hoped, deep down, in a quiet place even she didn't want to admit existed.
She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to hold back the sting.
It was never about winning, Eli.
It wasn't a game.
But she'd seen how Amelia looked at him, even now.
And Eli… he still searched rooms for Amelia's presence before settling into comfort.
That kiss with her was impulsive. It was fleeting.
It wasn't hers to keep.
A tear slipped down her cheek, warm and rebellious.
She let it fall.
Then another.
She didn't sob. Nora never sobbed.
But the tears came slowly, silently, like a tide that knew how to rise without drowning everything in its path.
She lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed on the side table, probably Lena checking in.
She didn't pick it up.
Instead, she whispered to the ceiling, to herself, to no one:
"I won't break. Not this time."
Because deep love didn't always end in happy endings.
Sometimes it ended in silence… and healing.
And even if Eli had kissed her in a moment of weakness, she would rise from it with strength.
Even if her heart cracked open tonight, it would close, eventually.
She would love again. She would be okay.
But now, she let the pain sit beside her. Quiet. Honest. And real.
The Heart Remembers
Eli sat on the edge of his bed, legs tucked in, the warmth of the evening filtering softly through his half-drawn curtains.
Amelia stood by his small shelf, fiddling with a little glass ornament she had once given him years ago, a silly gift back then, a quiet symbol now.
He looked up at her, eyes steady, voice quiet.
"Thank you for always taking care of me when I was sick," Eli began, breaking the silence.
"This isn't the first time you've done it.
But I'm grateful… really. I know I got you worried again."
Amelia turned around slowly, her eyes meeting his, filled with the warmth of shared memories and years that never faded.
Before she could reply, he added, barely above a whisper, "You always show up for me, Mel. And I don't take that lightly."
She walked closer, sitting beside him, her fingers intertwined in her lap.
"Come on, Eli," she said, nudging his knee gently.
"You and I… we've had us since childhood.
Before this group, before the university, before all this mess.
You were there… when my whole world crashed."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"When I lost my parents, you didn't leave my side.
You didn't say big words or promise miracles.
You just stayed.
"Slept in the hospital hallway for days, ate nothing but crackers, skipped your classes so I wouldn't wake up alone."
Eli looked down, heart heavy, but proud.
"I did what I had to. You would've done the same."
She smiled, watery eyes glistening.
"Of course I would've.
Because that's what we've always done.
All those weekends at your grandma's house?
The way we used to do everything together?
I mean," she chuckled through the tears, "we even bathed together as kids."
Eli laughed softly, nostalgic.
"Yeah… I do remember.
You used to splash soap into my eyes every single time."
"You'd cry, and I'd promise never to do it again, then do it again the next day."
She wiped at a tear that slipped down her cheek.
"Back then, I thought of you like a brother. But now… things changed."
Her voice quieted, and she looked at him seriously now.
"As we grew… You became my constant. And slowly, without even noticing, you fell in love with me.
It wasn't sudden, it just… happened.
Somewhere between all those nights you stayed by my side and the way you made me laugh when I wanted to break down. I fell, Amelia."
Amelia's throat tightened. She reached out gently and held his hand.
She finally let herself cry.
All of it, the memories of her parents, the buried grief, the tangled feelings for him, spilled from her like a river that had been dammed too long.
"I miss them," she whispered.
"I know," Eli said, wrapping his arms around her.
She leaned into him, letting his presence anchor her in a sea of emotion.
"I'm sorry I made you remember all that."
"No," she murmured. "You didn't make me remember. I needed to remember."
Eli held her tighter, voice thick with emotion.
"You still have me, Amelia.
I don't know what the future looks like for us.
Maybe you don't love me the way I love you… But your happiness, that's what matters to me.
Whether I'm your friend, your family, your past, or your nothing… I'll still be here.
I won't let anybody hurt you."
Her eyes searched his.
"Don't say that," she whispered. "You're not 'nothing'. You're everything I have left of the girl I used to be."
He wiped her tears gently.
"Then choose what makes you happy. Even if it's not me."
A long silence settled between them, filled not with emptiness, but with every memory, every truth, every unspoken word that now lived in the open.
Amelia leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I just need time," she whispered.
Eli kissed her forehead. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
And in that moment, though the future remained uncertain, the past wrapped around them like a promise that some bonds never truly break, no matter what love becomes.
Amelia left Eli's room with a small, trembling smile that masked the whirlwind inside her.
She had said nothing of her feelings for Harrison, not to Eli.
Her heart ached from the weight of unspoken truths, from the memories that Eli's gentle words had unearthed.
By the time she got to her room, the emotions had built up too much to hold back.
She shut the door softly behind her, leaned against it, and slid down until she sat curled on the floor.
Then the tears came, quiet deep, shaking sobs. She tried to muffle them with a pillow, but they kept coming.
The pain of losing her parents… the image of their laughter… the warmth of their presence… it all returned like waves crashing against her soul.
Downstairs, Eli lingered in the hallway after she left, worried.
He could tell Amelia had kept so much buried, and now it's surfacing.
He couldn't help her the way she needed, not now.
But maybe someone else could.
Without hesitation, he walked over to Harrison's room.
"I need your help," Eli said softly, his voice carrying a rare seriousness.
"Please.
Amelia… she's down.
She's in her room, and I don't think she'll talk to me right now.
But maybe she'll listen to you."
Harrison looked up sharply. "What happened to her?"
"She remembered her parents. The loss hit her again."
Harrison's face shifted, no more teasing smirks or cocky confidence. Just genuine concern. "Oh no."
Without another word, Harrison rushed out of his room, his feet silent but swift as he took the stairs two at a time.
He reached Amelia's door and knocked gently.
"Amelia?" he called softly. "It's me… please open the door."
No answer. He knocked again, a little firmer. "Please… I'm not going anywhere."
Still nothing.
He rested his hand on the doorknob, sighing.
"I know you're hurting.
Let me in.
I'm not here to pressure you or ask anything.
Just… let me be there, even if it's just to sit beside you."
And then, click.
The door opened, just a sliver, and there she stood.
Amelia.
Her eyes red-rimmed, cheeks damp, her voice caught in her throat.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
Harrison stepped in gently and closed the door behind him, but not before the movement caught the attention of the others downstairs.
Nora looked up from the couch, Kai paused mid-conversation, and Lena slowly put her drink down.
The entire house grew quiet, a shared concern knitting everyone together.
"Is she okay?" Lena whispered.
"I think… she's not," Kai answered quietly. "But he'll help her. He always tries to."
And upstairs, in that dim room filled with the scent of memories and tears, Harrison moved closer.
He sat beside her on the bed, unsure of what to say at first.
But words eventually came, and so did warmth.
Harrison stayed by her side until her breathing softened completely, signaling she had drifted into sleep.
He looked down at her face, still damp from tears, framed by messy strands of hair on the pillow.
Carefully, he adjusted the blanket over her, brushing her hair back with one last gentle sweep of his hand.
He stood quietly, not wanting to wake her, and lingered for a moment, just watching.
Then, with a sigh that held both worry and relief, he stepped out and quietly closed her door.
As he made his way downstairs, the murmurs of concern hit him before he even reached the bottom step.
Eli was already on his feet, eyes scanning for answers.
"How is she?" he asked the moment Harrison came into view.
Harrison nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. "She's asleep now. She cried herself into it."
The tension in the room thickened.
Nora exchanged a look with Lena.
Kai stood silently near the window, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say.
"What happened?" Lena finally asked. "What triggered it?"
"She remembered her parents," Harrison said, voice low. "It just hit her hard, out of nowhere."
"She hasn't cried like that in years," Nora whispered, arms folded tightly across her chest.
"She never really lets herself."
Eli sat back down, guilt flashing across his face.
"I should have known.
"We were talking earlier about the past. I didn't mean to bring all that pain back. I just…"
"You were being honest," Harrison interrupted gently.
"That's not a crime.
You weren't trying to hurt her, Eli. Grief is strange like that. It finds its way to the surface."
Kai stepped forward. "What do we do now?"
"We wait," Harrison replied.
"Let her rest tonight. Tomorrow, just… be normal around her. Not too soft, not too loud.
Just us."
"Like always," Lena nodded, her voice resolute.
Nora glanced up the stairs, then back to the others.
"Let's make sure when she wakes up, she remembers she's still surrounded by love."
They all nodded in quiet agreement.
That night, they didn't throw parties or play games.
They sat together in the common space, talking gently, occasionally laughing, making sure the house still hummed with the kind of peace Amelia would need when she woke up.
They were more than friends now. They were family.
And families wait.
And families stay.
Even when tangled in time.
Harrison tossed and turned, the quiet of the night doing little to still his mind.
Images of Amelia's tear-streaked face kept replaying, how broken she had looked, how tightly she had clung to him before sleep finally claimed her.
He stared at the ceiling, the moonlight filtering through the curtains painting soft shadows across his room.
But rest wouldn't come.
He sat up slowly, glancing at the clock.
Past midnight.
Without overthinking it, he swung his legs out of bed, walked barefoot through the hallway, and paused at Amelia's door.
For a second, he stood there, his hand on the doorknob, listening.
It was quiet, too quiet.
He pushed the door open gently and stepped inside.
She was curled on her side, the blanket still draped over her, her breathing steady, but her brows slightly furrowed even in sleep.
Harrison's chest tightened. She looked so small, so vulnerable.
He crossed the room, cautious not to wake her, and lay down beside her, moving slowly, as if any sudden motion might disturb the fragile peace in the room.
His arms hesitated before instinct took over, and he wrapped them carefully around her, his body molding into the curve of hers.
She shifted slightly, then settled.
Harrison closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the back of her shoulder.
No words. No expectations. Just warmth and presence.
The storm in his heart softened.
And for the first time that night, he found rest.
Wrapped in silence.
Wrapped in her.