Cameron stared at her phone screen, the text message glowing like a wound freshly opened.
Jasmine: [Hey. I'd really like to talk, if you're open to it.]
Her fingers twitched over the keyboard. Every instinct screamed at her to either block the number or respond immediately—no in-between, no careful deliberation. But she'd learned by now that her instincts weren't always her best guide. Instead, she forced herself to do what she'd been practicing: sit with the discomfort.
She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her nose, setting the phone down on her bedside table. Then, she grabbed her coat and keys. It was time for therapy.
"I got a text from Jasmine." Cameron stated as soon as she sat down in front of her therapist.
Her therapist, Dr. Roberts, didn't react beyond a small nod, the kind that signaled curiosity but not judgment. "How do you feel about that?"
Cameron scoffed. "God, I don't even know. At first, I felt like I was dreaming. Then my heart started racing, and I thought maybe I was gonna throw up."
"What about now?"
She hesitated. "Now, I guess I just feel... stuck. I know I should ignore it. I've been doing better without her in my life. But then I think—what if this time it's different? What if she's different?"
Dr. Roberts clasped her hands together. "You've spent a lot of time unpacking your relationship with Jasmine. Do you feel like you have enough clarity to determine what you need from her?"
Cameron sighed, leaning back into the couch. "That's the thing. I spent so long convincing myself that our love was just an addiction, that I only wanted her because I was spiraling. But now that I'm... better—"
A pause. A reconsideration.
"—Or at least getting better, I can look back and see that, yeah, it was messy and unhealthy, but my love for her was still real. It wasn't just about the chaos. It wasn't just about control. I loved her, and I think I still do. I just don't know if that's enough."
Dr. Roberts studied her for a moment before speaking. "Love is complicated, Cameron. But love—real, healthy love—shouldn't feel like a war you have to lose yourself in to survive."
Cameron nodded, absorbing that. "So, what do I do?"
"That depends. What would make you feel at peace? Accepting her back into your life, with boundaries? Or continuing forward without reopening that door?"
Cameron exhaled slowly. "I don't know yet."
"Then don't rush an answer. You've learned patience in your healing. Trust yourself."
That evening, she met up with Lena at their usual spot—a quiet, dimly lit diner where the coffee was terrible but the nostalgia was thick. Cameron stirred her drink idly, watching the cream swirl into a soft storm cloud.
"I got a text from Jasmine."
Lena's eyes flickered with interest but not surprise. "What did she say?"
"She wants to meet up."
Lena leaned back, crossing her arms. "And?"
Cameron shook her head. "I don't know. Part of me wants to hear her out. Part of me thinks I'd be an idiot to open that door again."
Lena hummed thoughtfully. "You've been doing good, Cam. But I get it. She was a huge part of your life. And closure—real closure—is hard to come by."
Cameron let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. That's the thing. I don't even know if I need closure, or if I just need to prove to myself that I'm not the same girl who would've dropped everything for her."
Lena tapped a finger against the side of her mug. "Look, you've worked hard to get where you are. But healing doesn't mean erasing everything. It means learning how to carry it without letting it break you."
Cameron looked up, their eyes meeting. "So, you think I should go?"
"I think you should ask yourself: if you don't meet her, will you regret it?"
Cameron sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah. I think I might."
Lena nodded. "Then maybe that's your answer."
That night, Cameron sat with her phone in her hands, heart thudding against her ribs. She re-read the text a dozen times before finally, carefully, typing a response.
Cameron: [Okay. When and where?]
She hit send before she could overthink it. The moment the message was delivered, a wave of anxiety crashed over her, but beneath it, there was something else, too.
Relief.
Whatever happened next, at least she wasn't running from it.