“He’s just kind,” I muttered.
Jenna laughed softly.
“Kind and cute. You think I don’t see it.”
Her tone was teasing, but something in her eyes lingered longer than it should have. I ignored it, telling myself I was imagining things.
A week later, Jason came by unexpectedly, leaving an envelope at the front desk because I wasn’t there.
Jenna was.
When I returned, she acted like nothing happened. For days, I waited for Jason to mention it, but he didn’t.
Curiosity finally got the best of me, and I asked, “Did you leave something for me?”
He frowned.
“Yeah, a note. You didn’t get it?”
I shook my head, and my stomach sank.
That night, while Jenna was in the shower, I checked her side of the dresser. The envelope was there, ripped open.
The note inside was simple, sweet.
Had to leave for an internship abroad. I’ll miss you. Call me when you can.
My hands trembled as I put it back. Jenna had read it, hidden it, and said nothing.
She came in moments later, towel around her shoulders, and froze when she saw my face.
“You went through my stuff,” she snapped.
“You stole my letter,” I whispered.
Her jaw tightened.
“I was just looking out for you. Guys like him, Lily, they leave. They don’t stick around for girls like us.”
The words cut deep. I wanted to scream, to demand why she thought she had the right to make that choice for me.
Instead, I walked out, tears stinging my eyes.
Jason left for that internship, and I didn’t hear from him again for almost a year.
Maybe Jenna was right. Maybe I wasn’t the kind of girl someone stayed for.
So, I threw myself into sewing, into planning a future that didn’t rely on anyone but me.
But late at night, when the lights were out and the house was quiet, I couldn’t stop wondering if Jason had really forgotten me or if life was simply teaching me one more cruel lesson about trust.
A year passed, and life moved on, whether I wanted it to or not.
I finished my sewing program, got a part-time job at a small alterations shop downtown, and focused on building something stable for myself.
The group home started to feel less like a temporary shelter and more like a stepping stone toward the life I wanted.
Still, there were nights I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what had happened to Jason.
Then one crisp autumn afternoon, I was walking through Foresight Park, enjoying the smell of roasted peanuts from a nearby vendor, when I heard someone call, “Lily.”
I turned, and there he was.
Jason.
Older somehow, more sure of himself, but still with that same warm smile.
I froze for a second, stunned. Then, before I could think, I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck.
“Whoa.” He laughed, hugging me back tightly. “Guess you missed me.”
“You disappeared,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “You didn’t write. You didn’t call.”
Jason frowned.
“I left a letter before I flew out. You didn’t get it?”
My chest tightened.
“Jenna,” I whispered, suddenly understanding.
He shook his head, an incredulous smile forming.
“I should have known something was off. I kept waiting for you to call. But I figured maybe you didn’t want to talk.”
We stood there in silence for a moment, and then he took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Lily. I should have done more to make sure you knew how much you mean to me.”
I swallowed hard.
“You mean?”
Jason smiled. That easy, genuine smile I remembered.
“I mean, I thought about you every single day while I was gone. And now that I’m back, I don’t plan on disappearing again.”
We spent the whole afternoon walking and talking, catching up on everything we’d missed.
Jason told me about his internship in New York, about working alongside top surgeons and how it solidified his dream of becoming a cardiologist.
“I want to fix hearts, Lily. Literally, but also, you know, in other ways.”
His eyes lingered on me when he said that, and something in my chest fluttered.
That evening, he drove me back to the group home. When he stopped the car, I hesitated, hand on the door handle.
“Jason, why me?”
He looked at me like it was the easiest question in the world.
“Because you’re you. Strong, kind, beautiful. You’ve been through hell and still managed to care about people. How could I not fall for that?”
The words hit me so hard I could barely breathe.
For so long, I had convinced myself no one could ever see me as worthy, as someone to love.
And yet, here he was saying it like it was obvious.
We didn’t kiss that night. We didn’t need to.
The way he touched my hand before I stepped out of the car was enough.
It felt like the beginning of something real, something that could last if I was brave enough to let it.
That night, lying in bed, I realized something.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t dreaming about someday.
I was living it right now.
When Jason told me he wanted me to meet his parents, I hesitated.
“Are you sure?” I asked, twisting my hands together. “They don’t even know me.”
“They will,” he said, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world. “And they’ll love you just like I do.”
The words, just like I do, hung in the air, warm and terrifying at the same time. No one had ever said that to me before.
I nodded, hoping he was right, but a pit formed in my stomach.
Anyway, a week later, we drove to his parents’ estate just outside Savannah.
The Harris home was breathtaking. White columns, manicured gardens, and a porch big enough to host a wedding.
For a moment, I stood frozen, clutching my simple purse, suddenly aware of my thrift store dress and scuffed shoes.
Jason squeezed my hand.
“You look perfect,” he whispered, then led me inside.
His mother, Eleanor, was the first to greet us. She was tall, elegant, and carried herself like someone who’d never been told no in her life.
She looked me up and down, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“This is Lily?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said softly, trying to smile.
“Mm,” she murmured, then turned to Jason. “Dinner’s ready.”
We sat at a long table that could have seated 20. His father, a serious man named Richard, asked polite but pointed questions, where I lived, what I did for work, where I came from.
I answered as best I could, my voice steady even as my chest tightened.
When I mentioned sewing and alterations, Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
“So, not a college girl, then.”
“No, ma’am,” I said quietly. “I went to a vocational program.”
“I see.” She set down her wine glass. “Jason, may I speak to you in private?”
Jason shook his head.
“Whatever you want to say, you can say it here.”
Her eyes flicked to me, cold and sharp.
“Jason, you’re on your way to becoming a doctor. You have opportunities most people can only dream of and you bring home.”
She gestured at me like I wasn’t even in the room.
“This? A girl from a group home? Do you even know who her family is?”