Chapter 6: He Finally Started Looking

Third-Person POV

Flynn stood outside Sophie's old house until the sky began to darken.

The new tenant had already closed the door, but Flynn remained rooted to the same spot, staring at the unfamiliar curtains through the window as though Sophie might suddenly pull them aside and laugh at him for falling for some elaborate prank.

She didn't.

His phone vibrated again.

Juniper: "Are you dead?"

Juniper: "My mom says we're leaving at eight tomorrow. If you're late for registration, I'm not waiting for you."

Juniper: "Did Sophie come out yet?"

Flynn finally typed a reply.

"She's gone."

Juniper responded almost instantly.

"Gone where?"

"Abroad."

The typing indicator appeared, vanished, then appeared again.

"What are you talking about?"

Flynn stared at the screen.

"Her family moved abroad weeks ago."

This time, Juniper didn't answer for nearly a minute.

Then his phone rang.

Flynn accepted the call.

"What do you mean she moved abroad?" Juniper demanded. "Sophie wouldn't do that without telling us."

Flynn closed his eyes.

"She did tell us."

"When?"

"The night market."

Silence.

Flynn continued, each word becoming harder to say.

"She sent messages saying her application to study abroad was approved. She said her flight was the following week."

"No way."

"Check the group chat."

The line went quiet.

Flynn knew exactly when Juniper found the messages because he heard her inhale sharply.

"Oh."

That single syllable made something twist inside him.

Juniper tried to laugh.

"Well, she could've said it properly. Who announces something that important in a group chat while everyone's busy?"

Flynn didn't answer.

Juniper continued, "And she said her application was approved, not that she was definitely leaving forever. Sophie always says dramatic things when she's upset."

"She changed her number."

Another silence.

"What?"

"Her phone is disconnected."

Juniper's voice became smaller.

"Maybe she'll contact us after she calms down."

Flynn looked at the dark windows of the house.

A month ago, he would have said the same thing.

Sophie would come back.

Sophie always came back.

When they ran ahead, Sophie followed.

When he teased her until she cried, Sophie forgave him.

When he forgot their plans because Juniper wanted to do something else, Sophie rearranged her schedule.

When he made her angry, all it took was a candy, a bottle of juice, or a careless pat on the head before she softened again.

He had mistaken her patience for permanence.

"Flynn?" Juniper called.

"I have to go."

He ended the call.

Instead of going home, Flynn walked to the small park three streets away.

The three of them had spent countless afternoons there as children.

Near the basketball court stood an old bench covered in faded scratches.

Flynn sat down.

His eyes fell on one particular carving.

F + S.

He remembered making it when they were thirteen.

Sophie had panicked.

"Flynn! You're not supposed to carve things into public property!"

He had laughed and grabbed her wrist.

"Stop worrying about everything, little nerd. When we're old, we'll come back and look at it."

Her face had turned bright red.

"When we're old?"

"Obviously. You're going to marry me, remember?"

Back then, the answer had seemed inevitable.

Sophie would be there.

She had always been there.

Flynn leaned forward and covered his face.

For the first time, the memory didn't feel sweet.

It felt cruel.

The following morning, Juniper arrived at his house with two suitcases.

"Your mom said you're not ready."

Flynn was sitting at his desk with his laptop open.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Looking for Sophie."

Juniper's expression changed.

"How?"

"Universities abroad."

"There are thousands."

"I know."

Juniper set her suitcase down.

"Flynn, registration is today."

"Go without me."

"Are you serious?"

He didn't respond.

Juniper walked closer and looked at the browser tabs.

Universities in the United Kingdom.

Art schools in Europe.

International student admissions.

Scholarship results.

Juniper frowned.

"Why are you looking at art schools?"

Flynn's hand stopped on the mouse.

"Sophie likes art."

Juniper stared at him.

"Since when?"

The question hit him unexpectedly.

Since when?

Flynn opened his mouth.

He remembered Sophie drawing constantly when they were children.

She used to carry pencils everywhere.

Her notebooks had flowers, faces, buildings, animals, and tiny cartoon versions of him in the margins.

Then one year, the drawings simply disappeared.

He hadn't asked why.

He had been too busy preparing for competitions.

Sophie started studying beside him instead.

Whenever she struggled, he teased her for being slow.

Whenever she finally achieved a high score, he treated it as expected.

He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her draw.

"She used to love it," Flynn said.

"Used to?"

He looked at the screen.

"I don't know."

Juniper folded her arms.

"This is ridiculous. Even if you find her university, what are you going to do? Fly there and drag her home?"

Flynn's jaw tightened.

"I just want to talk to her."

"About what?"

He looked at Juniper.

For once, he had no clever answer.

About the breakup he hadn't taken seriously?

About abandoning Sophie unconscious in an alley?

About bringing her a birthday cake in Juniper's favorite flavor and ordering her to apologize?

About the fact that Sophie had nearly died while he spent three days taking care of someone else?

Flynn's face slowly lost color.

Juniper noticed.

"What?"

"She was in the hospital for three days."

"I know."

"I never visited until she was discharged."

Juniper's expression stiffened.

"You were with me."

"I know."

"Flynn, I was terrified after what happened."

"I know."

He said it automatically.

Then he remembered Sophie's weak voice.

Flynn… Candies…

He had heard her.

For the first time, he admitted that to himself.

He had heard Sophie asking for something.

He simply hadn't stopped to understand.

Instead, he walked past her.

His stomach turned.

"She has hypoglycemia," he whispered.

Juniper went still.

"What?"

"That night. She wasn't pretending."

His voice cracked.

"She was asking me for candy because her blood sugar was crashing."

The room became painfully quiet.

Juniper's lips parted.

"But the police said—"

"The doctor said she nearly died."

Flynn suddenly stood.

The chair scraped violently against the floor.

"And I left her there."

"You thought she arranged those men to scare me!"

"Because I didn't ask!"

Juniper flinched.

Flynn had never shouted at her like that.

He stared at her, breathing hard.

"I didn't ask Sophie what happened. I didn't check whether she was hurt. I didn't even look at her properly."

Juniper's face paled.

"Neither did I," she whispered.

That stopped him.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Juniper slowly sat on the edge of his bed.

"She protected me."

Flynn looked at her.

Tears filled Juniper's eyes.

"Those men grabbed me. Sophie could've run. She knew what happened to me when I was little, and she came back anyway."

Juniper wiped her face angrily.

"Then I let you take me away."

Flynn looked down.

The realization was arriving too late for both of them.

Juniper had called Sophie her best friend.

Flynn had called Sophie his girlfriend.

Yet when Sophie needed either of them, neither stayed.

Juniper's phone rang.

Her mother.

Registration.

She silenced it.

"We should find her."

Flynn looked at the laptop.

"Yes."

But thousands of miles away, Sophie was no longer waiting to be found.

…

Sophie's POV

My first university assignment was to create a self-portrait without drawing my own face.

I stared at the assignment sheet for almost ten minutes.

Hazel leaned over from the neighboring easel.

"You look offended."

"I don't understand it."

"That's art school. Nobody understands anything. We just nod thoughtfully."

I laughed.

Our professor walked between the easels.

"Don't ask what you look like," she told us. "Ask what has shaped you."

That didn't make the assignment easier.

If she had asked me a month earlier, I would have drawn Flynn.

Maybe Juniper too.

They had shaped nearly every part of my adolescence.

My schedule.

My grades.

My ambitions.

Even the way I thought about myself.

I looked at the blank canvas.

Then I began painting.

First came a narrow road.

At the bottom, three shadows stood together.

As the road climbed, one shadow separated from the others.

I painted an airplane cutting across the sky.

Then books.

Paintbrushes.

A half-open door.

And finally, near the top, an empty space flooded with sunlight.

Hazel stopped joking when she saw it.

"That's intense."

"Too dramatic?"

"No. Good dramatic."

I smiled.

For the next three hours, I forgot to check the time.

I forgot about Flynn.

I forgot about Juniper.

I even forgot lunch until Hazel shoved a granola bar into my hand.

"Eat."

I blinked.

"How did you know?"

"You told me about your blood sugar yesterday."

I stared at the granola bar.

She had remembered after hearing it once.

Something small and painful moved through my chest.

Flynn had known about my hypoglycemia for years.

He remembered often enough to carry candy.

But when it mattered most, he had walked past me.

Hazel mistook my silence for embarrassment.

"Sorry. Am I being bossy?"

"No."

I opened the wrapper.

"Thank you for remembering."

She shrugged.

"That's what friends do."

Friends.

The word once meant Juniper automatically.

Maybe it didn't have to.

After class, I called Mom.

"How was your assignment?" she asked.

"Good."

"Only good? Your father has refreshed the university's social media page six times today in case they posted your artwork."

I laughed.

"Tell him to stop stalking my school."

Dad shouted somewhere in the background, "I'm supporting you!"

I smiled so widely my cheeks hurt.

Mom's voice softened.

"You sound happy."

I looked across campus.

Students sat beneath trees sketching, reading, talking, and arguing over music.

Hazel was waiting near the steps, waving impatiently because we had promised to explore the city together.

"I think I am."

Mom was quiet for a second.

"Then that's enough."

That night, I opened my new social media account.

I had created it using my new number and hadn't added anyone from home except my parents.

For several minutes, I hovered over the search bar.

Then I typed Flynn Sadler.

His profile appeared immediately.

The latest photograph showed him and Juniper standing outside their college.

Juniper held up her registration documents.

Flynn wasn't smiling.

The caption had been posted by Juniper.

"New chapter with my favorite idiot."

My chest tightened faintly.

But the pain was different now.

Smaller.

Farther away.

I almost clicked on Flynn's profile.

Instead, I closed the app.

Hazel called from across our room.

"Sophie, are you coming? They're giving out free pizza downstairs."

"Coming."

I put my phone face down.

Once, one photograph of Flynn and Juniper could ruin my entire night.

Now there was pizza downstairs, an unfinished painting on my desk, a city I hadn't explored, and people who didn't expect me to trail behind them.

I grabbed my jacket.

Before leaving, I glanced once at the canvas leaning against the wall.

The lone figure on the road no longer looked abandoned.

She looked free.

And for the first time, I realized there was a difference.