I knew she was getting out today. What I didn’t know was if she’d want to see me.

The last time we spoke, she was tired, angry—done. And I couldn’t blame her. I was tired, too, and we said things we shouldn’t have. Things that made me wonder if, after everything, she’d still want me in her life.

But I’m here anyway.

She steps through the doors, her bag slung over her shoulder, and stops when she sees me. For a second, she just stares, like she’s making sure I’m real.

“You came.”

I exhale, shifting against the car. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t look the same as when she left. There’s something steadier about her now, something clearer. She’s still her, but healthier—like she’s finally had room to breathe.

“I didn’t think anyone would,” she says softly.

Something in my chest tightens at that, but I shake my head. “You know me better than that.”

She huffs a quiet laugh, looking down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It’s not awkward like I expected. There’s no resentment in her face, no hesitation. Just surprise. Maybe even relief.

I open the passenger door. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s go home.”

She hesitates for only a second before nodding, slipping inside like she belongs there. Like she never left.

I’m glad to have her back by my side.