Cameron spent the entire week agonizing over whether or not she should go back to group therapy. Every night, she lay awake replaying the moment Lena recognized her, the brief flicker of something—surprise, nostalgia, maybe even warmth—on her face. She wasn't sure what scared her more: the idea of reconnecting with someone from her past or the possibility that Lena might be the only person who truly understood her right now.
There was no therapy session with Dr. Roberts in between to help her sort it out. No neutral ground to untangle the knots in her head. Just silence and uncertainty.
By the time the next meeting rolled around, Cameron had convinced herself not to go at least a dozen times. She stood outside the building, smoking a cigarette down to the filter, before finally forcing herself inside at the last minute.
The meeting was much the same as before, the same low murmurs, the same confessions spoken into the quiet, but this time, Cameron felt a second presence weighing on her. Lena. She sat across the room, her eyes flicking toward Cameron every now and then. Not pressing. Not demanding. Just… there.
When the meeting ended, Cameron lingered awkwardly, feeling the pull of old habits telling her to run, to avoid, to pretend this never happened. But then Lena was in front of her, hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, expression unreadable.
"Hey," Lena said. "You busy?"
Cameron hesitated. "Not really."
"Wanna grab a coffee?"
There was a split-second window where Cameron could've said no, could've walked away and let Lena become another ghost from her past. But she didn't. She nodded, and they left together.
The coffee shop was a quiet, tucked-away place, the kind that smelled like cinnamon and old books. They found a corner table near a window, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Cameron watched Lena stir her drink absentmindedly, her hands steady despite the conversation they were about to have.
"So," Cameron finally said, breaking the silence. "How'd you end up here?"
Lena huffed a small, humorless laugh. "You mean, how'd I become an alcoholic?"
Cameron didn't say anything. Didn't have to.
Lena sighed, running a hand through her short-cropped hair. "It wasn't one big thing. Just a lot of small ones piling up until I didn't know how to exist without it. It got bad in my early twenties. You?"
"Pretty much the same."
A beat of silence stretched between them before Lena leaned back in her chair, studying Cameron with a look that made her feel like she was sixteen again, all raw nerves and unspoken words.
"I thought about reaching out," Lena admitted. "Over the years. But I figured you wouldn't want to hear from me."
Cameron frowned. "Why?"
Lena gave a wry smile, shaking her head. "Because I was a coward. And I hurt you."
Cameron stiffened, a dull ache forming in her chest. "Lena—"
"No, let me say it." Lena met her eyes. "I liked you, Cameron. More than a friend should. And back then, that scared the hell out of me. So instead of dealing with it, I pushed you away. I made up excuses, let the distance grow, until we weren't anything to each other anymore."
Cameron swallowed hard, the confession settling heavy between them. She had spent years wondering what she had done wrong, why Lena had suddenly disappeared from her life. And now, after all this time, she finally had an answer.
"Did you ever—" Cameron hesitated, not sure how to phrase it. "Did you ever regret it?"
Lena exhaled sharply. "Every damn day."
Cameron looked down at her coffee, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic. She wasn't sure what to do with this information, with this new version of the past she had never considered before.
"I don't want to lose touch again," Lena said quietly. "And I know we're both kind of a mess, but… maybe we can help each other. Like a sponsor. Or just—someone to call when it gets bad."
Cameron didn't answer right away. The idea of relying on someone, of letting someone rely on her—it felt fragile, like something that could break if she touched it too hard. But Lena was here, offering a hand after all these years. Maybe Cameron wasn't ready to grab it fully, but she could at least meet her halfway.
"Okay," she said. "Let's try."
Lena smiled, something genuine and relieved in the curve of her lips. For the first time in a long time, Cameron felt something close to safe.
Meanwhile, outside the coffee shop, Jasmine walked down the sidewalk, lost in thought. It wasn't until she glanced through the shop's window that her steps faltered. Inside, at a corner table, sat Cameron—laughing, leaning in close to someone Jasmine didn't recognize. The sight sent something sharp through her chest, a mix of nostalgia and something bitter, something she didn't want to name.
She stood there for a moment, unseen.