When I open the door, I glance back once, desperate for her to stop me. But all I see is the woman I love, standing alone, tears streaking down her face, her arms clutched tight around herself like she’s protecting what little she has left.
All because of me.
I walk out before I start begging her to forgive me like an asshole. But feels like I’m closing the door on my whole damn future.
Three Months Later
Iris
The halls are filled with chatting students and slamming lockers before the first bell. I’m halfway to my classroom when I see Vice Principal Holloway coming toward me, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. “Iris,” he says with a nod, slowing his long stride.
His voice is steady, the way it always is, but lately there’s a warmth there too, replacing his typical monotone indifference.
He pulls an envelope from the pile he’s carrying. “This is for you.” He hands it over carefully. “Ms. Price made me promise to hand-deliver it.”
“I’ve been meaning to reach out to her,” I stare down at the envelope.
He studies me with a tilt to his head. “How are you doing?” His voice is quiet, the question simple but not at all casual. I think about giving him the easy answer, but honestly, he’s been one of the few people here who hasn’t looked at me any differently.
“Better than I was last week,” I tell him. “Still getting the occasional angry email.”
He nods once. “You’re handling yourself well. Better than. I’m not sure I’d have your patience.” The corner of his mouthlifts, the closest thing to a smile you’re going to get from him. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
I match his imitation of a smile, feeling the same way these days. “That means a lot.”
He clears his throat, glancing at the passing students. “Better get moving. Second period’s about to start.”
“Oh, before I forget,” I reach for his arm to get his attention. “Did you ever get a chance to write that letter of recommendation?”
“I did. I’ll email it to you this afternoon.”
Relief makes my shoulders drop. “Thank you, Mr. Holloway.”
His thick eyebrows come together at the name. “I thought I told you to call me Theo.”
“It feels weird calling you by your name. You’re my boss,” I say with a shrug, earning a scoff from my new friend.
“I think we’re past that,” he says, stepping aside to let a group of freshmen hurry past. I nod, tucking the envelope into my bag for later.
I don’t plan on calling him anything but Mr. Holloway anytime soon.
That’s just him.
When I look up, Holloway is gone, but I see Nate, standing near a group of students from the football team, his gaze locked on me. I meet it for only a moment before looking away.
I haven’t spoken to Nate in three months.
I tell myself it’s better this way, but my heart doesn’t seem to agree.
The afternoon sun shines through the large windows of myclassroom, painting golden patches across the empty desks. The voices of the remaining students in the hall fade into the background as I finally get a moment to myself.
I pull the envelope from my bag.
My name is written neatly across the front in familiar handwriting,Ms. Price’s. I break the seal carefully, unfolding the letter with trembling hands.
My dear Iris,
I hope this letter finds you in a peaceful moment, when you can breathe and even smile, despite the trouble you’ve gone through. I regret to tell you that I was made aware of what happened, and I’ve been thinking of you a lot these past weeks.
