Cameron sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, arms crossed over her chest, her nails pressing into the fabric of her hoodie. The air in the small group therapy room felt thick, not just from the too-warm heater humming in the corner but from the weight of everything unspoken.
She hadn't intended to actually show up. The idea of spilling her baggage in a circle of strangers made her skin itch, but Dr. Roberts had suggested just listening in. "No pressure to share, just observe," she had said. So Cameron was here. Observing.
There were seven others in the group, ranging in age from mid-twenties to late forties. Some looked at ease, others just as uncomfortable as she felt. The facilitator, a soft-spoken woman named Tessa, had started the session with introductions, though Cameron had mumbled a half-hearted name and nothing else.
"So, let's begin with a check-in," Tessa said. "How has everyone been managing this week?"
A wiry man in his thirties—Ben, she recalled—spoke first, mentioning how he'd managed to go three days without drinking before slipping up. No one judged him. They just nodded in understanding, offering encouragement. A woman named Laura admitted she had finally blocked her ex's number. Small victories. Cameron wondered if she had any of her own.
She barely heard the others as they spoke, her mind drifting between their voices. That was, until she heard a familiar one.
"I started journaling again," a woman across the circle said. "I used to write everything down as a kid, but somewhere along the way, I stopped. I don't know why, but picking it up again has helped."
Cameron's breath caught in her throat. That voice. The way it lilted at the end of sentences, the quiet self-awareness beneath it. She forced herself to look, and her stomach twisted.
Lena.
The realization hit like a slap. It had been over a decade, but there was no mistaking her. She had grown into her features, her jaw a little sharper, her once-unruly hair now straight and its length barely passing her ears. But her eyes—those same warm, honey-brown eyes—hadn't changed.
Memories rushed in uninvited. Running through Lena's backyard in the summer, hands clasped together like they were tethered. Passing notes in class, whispering secrets beneath blanket forts. And then, the steady undoing. Lena pulled away, avoiding her calls, making excuses until Cameron eventually stopped trying.
Cameron swallowed hard, dragging her gaze down to her lap. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her?
The meeting continued, but Cameron didn't hear any of it. Her pulse roared in her ears, and her fingers twitched against her knee. She needed to leave. Now.
But before she could make her escape, the session wrapped up, and the group began to disperse. She kept her head down, moving quickly toward the door, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Cameron?"
Shit.
She turned slowly, forcing herself to meet Lena's gaze. The recognition in her expression was immediate. A mix of surprise, confusion, and something else Cameron couldn't quite place.
"It is you," Lena breathed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn't sure."
Cameron nodded stiffly, her throat too tight to form words.
Lena studied her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "It's been a long time."
Too long, Cameron thought but didn't say. Instead, she forced out, "Yeah."
Lena shifted on her feet. "Are you… coming back next week?"
Cameron wanted to say no. She wanted to say she had only come here as a one-time thing, that she wasn't looking for reconnecting or reminiscing. But the words wouldn't come out. Instead, she found herself nodding.
Lena's smile softened. "Good. Maybe we can catch up after."
And just like that, she was gone, slipping through the doorway and disappearing down the hall. Cameron stood frozen, her heart pounding, her mind a tangled mess of past and present colliding all at once.
She wasn't sure if coming back next week was a lie or not. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted it to be.