The hum of the diner was a low, constant murmur, blending with the clinking of forks against plates and the hiss of the coffee maker. Natalie leaned back in the cracked vinyl booth, one boot propped against the seat opposite her, a half-empty cup of black coffee cradled in her hands. The smell of grease and burnt toast seeped into her clothes, but she didn’t care. She was used to it.

Her eyes tracked the door, restless and sharp, as if she might change her mind and bolt before anyone could see her. Rehab had left her too clean, too exposed. Sober meant feeling everything too damn much. And today, it meant feeling the gnaw of anxiety digging into her ribs.

When the door swung open, Natalie tensed instinctively, but it was just some guy in a flannel jacket. She exhaled slowly, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek, fighting down the nervous energy. She hadn’t seen them since…God, since everything fell apart. Since hitting rock bottom and clawing her way back up, one shaky breath at a time.

Then, they walked in, and for a second, Natalie almost didn’t recognize them. A little older, sure, but there was still something familiar in the way they carried themselves; like they’d made it through the storm mostly intact. Normal. Or as close to normal as anyone could get after surviving a sister like her.

Their eyes met, and Natalie couldn’t help the tight, crooked smile that pulled at her lips. The envy hit her in the gut, sharp and mean, because somehow, despite everything, they’d managed to live a life without the shadows clawing at their heels. She didn’t know whether to hate them for it or be grateful that at least one of them hadn’t ended up a wreck.

They hesitated at the edge of the booth, like they weren’t sure if this was a mistake, but Natalie just raised her coffee in a mock toast and gestured to the seat across from her. Whatever was left between them, it was going to start here, in this dingy diner, under flickering fluorescent lights and the greasy scent of regret.