stranger—Olivia Rodrigo When you woke up this morning, you sat up straight in bed. The sunlight filtering through your curtains felt softer somehow—gentler. Like the universe was trying to apologize. There was a weight missing from your chest, one you’d carried for so long it had started to feel like a part of you. You blinked a few times, slowly, cautiously. Like if you moved too fast, the spell would break. And maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe your heart would remember what it lost by noon. But right then, in that exact second… You felt light. You felt free. Not in a loud, screaming-from-a-cliff kind of way. It was subtle. Like a song you forgot you loved coming on the radio, like the ghost of a smile curling at the corner of your lips before you even realize you’re smiling at all. You hadn’t felt this kind of hope since the day Grayson left. And back then, it was the cruel kind. The kind that kept you waiting. But this—this wasn’t about him. This was about you. And it felt… nice. So nice, in fact, that for the first time in a long time, you didn’t dread the thought of leaving the house. ——— So, you showered. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. You picked out a sweater that didn’t smell like last winter, tied your hair up like you were someone new, and smiled at your reflection—not a big smile, but a real one. And then you left. You walked the long way to the coffee shop. On purpose. You passed that bookstore where he used to read the backs of every novel like he was choosing a religion. You didn’t stop. You saw a golden retriever tied to a bench, waiting for someone inside, and it reminded you of the way he waited for you that one time you forgot your wallet. You kept walking. You were fine. The closer you got, the more real it felt. Not scary-real, just… this is your life now real. You weren’t walking into this place to prove a point or start something. You just wanted your coffee. And maybe the tiniest part of you wondered what you’d do if you saw him. Not to start anything. Not even to look at him. Just— Just to know you could survive it. So you opened the door. It jingled—God, it always jingled—and the scent hit you like a song you forgot how to sing. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Burnt espresso and heartbreak. And there he was. Standing at the counter. Ordering the same stupid thing. Large black coffee. Like a bitter businessman. You froze. Not in fear—no, you didn’t give him that anymore. It was just—weird. Seeing someone who used to know the shape of your soul acting like they didn’t. Like you were just… someone else in line. He hadn’t seen you yet. But you saw him. And instead of crying— You breathed. He was a stranger now. A stranger that you knew everything about.