I turned eighteen the morning we crossed into Texas. Mom said it was a fresh start. I didn't tell her that fresh starts don't erase memories,
especially the kind that wear his name.
The highway stretched for miles, endless and dusty, the kind of road that makes you feel like time stopped caring. Boxes rattled in the backseat, and Mom hummed softly to an old country song, pretending this move was just another chapter. But it wasn't. Not for me.
I pressed my forehead against the window, watching the sky turn that honey-orange Texas shade I'd only ever seen in movies. It was beautiful, too beautiful for the kind of secrets I was carrying.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, the sky had gone from gold to that sleepy kind of purple that means you've been on the road too long.
The house looked smaller than I remembered,or maybe I'd just grown up since the last time Mom brought me here for that one strange summer. I was thirteen then, shy and too quiet for my own good. That's when I met her, the girl with sunburned cheeks and the kind of laugh that made you forget how hot Texas could get.
I hadn't seen her since. But when the front porch light flicked on and a familiar voice called my name, I realized some memories don't stay buried for long.
Kira.
She looked different, taller now, her black hair streaked with faint copper highlights that caught the light every time she moved. But her charming Asian eyes…warm, sharp, and a little mischievous.
were the same ones I remembered from that summer when we'd chased fireflies behind this same house.
"Ava?" she said, like she wasn't sure if it was really me.
I laughed, nervous. "Yeah. Guess Texas couldn't get rid of me that easily."
She grinned, the same smile that used to pull me out of every awkward silence years ago. "About time you came back. I was starting to think I made you up."
The air between us felt heavy with things we never said. memories, promises, maybe even secrets. And for the first time that night, I wasn't sure if moving here was really about starting over… or picking up where something left off.
Next morning….
The morning light spilled through thin curtains, warm and golden, painting soft patterns on the walls. It was quieter than I expected. no cars, no city noise, just the steady hum of Texas heat waking up.
Mom was already outside, talking with Mrs. Kim across the fence. I could tell from her smile that she was trying to sound casual, like we hadn't just uprooted our whole lives overnight.
" jal jayo"? A voice called
I turned. Kira was leaning on the porch rail, a mug in her hand, the steam curling into the air. Her hair was up this time, messy in that didn't even try but still cute way.
I had this weird feeling rumbling around my stomach (or should I say insecurity). Kira was so Fucking gorgeous and it has always made me feel insecure around her, then she glowed up again. Anyways, I scrubbed that feeling out immediately and stood up.
"Yeah", I said, pulling my sweater closer. "Forgot how quiet it gets here."
"I paused.
Uhm. You do know I'm not Korean riii? You lucky I took Lessons five years ago. "I told Kira playfully".
She smiled. "You'll get used to it. Come on, I'll show you the town before it gets too hot."
I hesitated, then nodded. Part of me wanted to stay safe inside, unpacking boxes and pretending this was just another move. But the way she looked at me, like she still remembered the same summer nights I did made it impossible to say no.
Some memories don't stay buried forever, I thought as I followed her down the porch steps. Especially when they start walking beside you again.
The town looked exactly like I remembered, sun-faded signs, dusty roads, that same diner on the corner with a flickering neon "OPEN" that never quite turned off. Kira drove slow, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping along to the song playing low on the radio.
"They haven't changed this place at all," I said, staring out the window.
"Mm," she hummed. "Except the lake. People don't really go there anymore."
"Why not?"
She paused. just a second too long. "Just… stories. You know how small towns are."
I nodded, but her voice had shifted. Lighter on the surface, heavier underneath.
We parked near the diner, and when we stepped out, the air hit me — thick, warm, humming with quiet life. A man across the street froze when he saw us. His eyes lingered a second too long before he turned away and disappeared into a store.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"No," Kira said quickly, slipping her sunglasses on. "Come on. I'm starving."
But even as we walked toward the diner, I couldn't shake the feeling that something about this town, or maybe about us — had changed. And whatever it was, it had been waiting.
The diner smelled like cinnamon and coffee, the kind that clung to your clothes long after you left. Kira had ordered pancakes for both of us before I even opened the menu.
she remembered.
"You still hate decisions," she teased, passing me a fork.
"And you still make them for me," I said, smiling.
We ate and talked, mostly about small things. Classes, music, the heat. But there was something underneath the laughter, a kind of weight neither of us wanted to touch. When the plates were almost empty, Kira reached into her bag.
"I didn't forget," she said softly. "You turned eighteen yesterday."
She slid a small box across the table, pale blue with a silver ribbon, a little bent at the edges like it had been waiting a while.
"Kira…"
"Don't look at me like that," she said with a grin. "Just open it."
Inside was a silver bracelet. delicate with a tiny charm shaped like a crescent moon. Simple, but too familiar. I ran my thumb over it, frowning.
"You remember this?" she asked.
"It looks like.."
"The one you lost. That summer," she finished for me.
My chest tightened. That summer. The one we never talked about after.
"Where did you…."
"It doesn't matter," Kira said quickly, reaching for her cup. "Just… don't lose it again, okay?"
Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. And as the sunlight hit the charm, for a moment I swore it glimmered darker, like something hidden beneath the shine.