EMILY — POV
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds of the quiet art room, casting long stripes across the worn wooden table where Vicky and I sat. His sketchbook was open between us, but I wasn't really paying attention to the drawings. My mind was tangled with thoughts and feelings I was still trying to understand.
Vicky watched me carefully, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the sketchbook, but his eyes were on me, steady and patient.
"Emily," he said softly, breaking the silence, "you've been quiet all day. What's on your mind?"
I hesitated, the words heavy in my chest. "I've been thinking… about us. About everything that's happened."
He nodded, encouraging but without pressure.
"I'm scared," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared because I don't want to hurt anyone. Especially Mike. He's been such a big part of my life for so long."
Vicky's fingers intertwined with mine, grounding me. "I know it's not easy."
"I've felt so torn between you and him — between what feels safe and what feels real. Sometimes I think I'm just running in circles inside my own head." I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "But I can't deny it anymore. You… you make me feel seen. Like I'm more than the scared, confused girl I thought I was."
His eyes softened, a mix of relief and hope shining through. "I feel the same way, Emily. I've wanted to be that for you for so long."
I reached out and took his hand fully in mine. "I want to try. To be with you. But I want it to be honest. I don't want to pretend I have all the answers because I don't. Not yet."
He squeezed my hand gently. "We don't need all the answers right now. We just need to be real with each other."
I exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension inside me loosen.
"But," I continued, biting my lip, "there's still Mike. And Jane too. I don't want to lose either of them."
Vicky gave a small, understanding smile. "Mike will need time, but I think he cares about you enough to want that for you. And Jane... she's been amazing through all this. You're lucky to have her."
I nodded, eyes drifting toward the window as I tried to hold onto the fragile hope blossoming inside me.
---
MIKE — POV
I sat alone on the old wooden bleachers outside the gym, the afternoon breeze brushing against my skin. My hands were clenched into fists, but my mind was tangled with a storm of emotions I wasn't ready to unpack.
Emily had told me she chose Vicky.
The words echoed relentlessly inside my head.
I'd expected anger, sadness, confusion. But what hit me first was a strange emptiness, like a chapter closing and a new, uncertain one beginning.
Jane sat down beside me quietly, as if she sensed my turmoil without me saying a word.
"How are you holding up?" she asked softly.
I looked at her, the warmth in her eyes a contrast to the cold feeling settling inside me.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "It feels like losing something I didn't even fully understand."
Jane nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. But you're not losing her—you're learning to see her differently. That's harder in some ways."
I exhaled, the weight of her words sinking in. "I thought being with Emily meant something permanent, something safe. But maybe… people change. And maybe love means letting go sometimes."
Jane reached over and took my hand in hers, steady and sure. "It doesn't mean she's any less important to you. It means you're growing."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting back the sting behind my eyes. "I want to be better—for her, for me. But it's hard to know how."
"You don't have to know all the answers right now," Jane said gently. "Just keep being honest. That's all anyone can ask."
For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of peace.
---
JANE — POV
Walking home after school, Liam's hand found mine, and I felt the simple comfort of connection settle over me like a warm blanket.
We hadn't talked much about prom yet, but I could feel it coming—the night everyone had been buzzing about for weeks.
"Do you think we'll have fun?" I asked quietly, squeezing his hand.
Liam smiled, that easy grin that made everything feel lighter. "I think we will. We'll make our own kind of night."
That felt right.
I'd spent so long worrying about everyone else—Emily, Mike, the tangled mess between them—that I forgot what it meant to let someone in for myself.
Liam wasn't perfect. He had his flaws and his awkward moments, but with him, I could breathe.
"Thank you," I whispered, looking up at him.
"For what?"
"For being patient. For being you."
He leaned down and kissed my forehead softly. "Always."
---
EMILY — POV
The days leading to prom blurred in a mix of schoolwork, quiet talks, and moments stolen between Vicky and me. Every conversation felt like a step forward and a step into the unknown.
Vicky was patient with my fears, my uncertainty, never pushing, just steady and real.
One afternoon, we sat on the worn benches by the soccer field, the late spring sun casting a golden glow.
"I'm scared," I admitted, resting my head on his shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around me. "I know. But we're in this together."
"I don't want to mess it up."
"You won't," he said softly. "Because we'll keep trying. No matter what."
I looked up at him, feeling the warmth in his eyes. "Thank you for staying."
"Thank you for choosing me," he whispered.
In that moment, I believed we could make it through whatever came next.
---
MIKE — POV
Prom night came faster than I expected. Watching Emily and Vicky together, laughing under the soft glow of the gym's fairy lights, was a strange mixture of pain and acceptance.
Jane was by my side, her hand steady in mine, her presence a quiet anchor.
As Emily danced with Vicky, I found myself smiling—not because it was easy, but because it felt right. She deserved happiness, even if it wasn't with me.
Later, Emily caught my eye and gave a small nod—a silent thanks, a recognition of everything we'd shared.
I returned it, feeling like maybe this was a beginning instead of an ending.
---
JANE — POV
Dancing with Liam, the music swirling around us, I felt light for the first time in weeks.
The tangled mess of feelings, the uncertainties—they all seemed to fade in the warmth of his smile.
Prom wasn't about perfection. It was about moments like this—real, messy, beautiful.
And maybe, just maybe, love wasn't about having it all figured out.
It was about choosing to show up. To keep trying.
---
EMILY — POV
That night, as the music slowed and the crowd thinned, Vicky and I stood beneath the twinkling lights.
He took both my hands in his, eyes shining.
"No matter what happens," he said, "we face it together."
I nodded, feeling the full weight of that promise.
I wasn't perfect. I was still scared. But with him, I felt ready.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't lost.
I was home.