Page 198 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

And then eventually, the laughter softened.

D studied me for a second. Not too intensely, but just enough.

Then he asked quietly, “Are you okay now?”

The question settled gently between us.

And for a moment, I looked away.

Past the shelves.

Past the warm bookstore lights.

Past the version of myself that once thought heartbreak would permanently ruin me.

Was I okay?

It had been four months.

I thought about the past year, and strangely… my chest no longer collapsed under the weight of it.

A small smile slowly pulled at my mouth as I looked back at D.

“You know what,” I said softly, “I think I am.”

And for the first time in a very long time, I truly meant it.

D smiled at me like he understood more than I said aloud.

Then he squeezed my shoulder lightly. “Good.”

A few seconds later, someone called him from the back.

He pointed dramatically at me while walking backwards. “Spend more money before you leave.”

“I already brought coffee!”

“Not enough!”

I laughed as he disappeared in the café.

And suddenly, standing there alone between shelves of old books, I realized something strange.

Southside finally no longer felt like a graveyard to me.

It felt like home… again.

A moment later, I stepped out of Lost Books looking down at my newly bought book, wrapped neatly in brown paper, reading the funny note that D had written on it:

You know, I realized your story was never about your broken heart. It was about the people who never broke it and fixed it anyway. —D

A smile stayed on my face as I walked a few steps away from the bookstore before turning back toward it.

At night, the bookshop looked even softer somehow.

Warm golden bulbs spilled from the windows, making the tiny bookstore glow against the darker street around it like a hidden place the city accidentally forgot to ruin.

I took three slow steps backward so I could admire it properly.