I Saw the Name in My Fiance’s Heart So I Walked Away Chapter 07
After I left Crescent Dunes, I went home to Oakhaven.
Mom opened the door, took one look at me, and her eyes welled up. “Maya, you’re finally home.”
She made a huge spread for dinner. Dad kept piling food onto my plate. “Stay as long as you want, sweetheart. All those years out there on your own- you’ve been working way too hard.”
I glanced down at my bowl out of habit. Mom caught the look and smiled immediately. “No shrimp. We know you can’t touch that.”
She said it so easily, like it was never something anyone needed to make a note of. My fork paused mid–air.
Derek swore he’d remember, and he still forgot. The people who actually care don’t need the reminders.
Life in Oakhaven had a slower rhythm. Every morning,
I went to the farmers‘ market with my mom.
Afternoons, I sat on the back porch in the sun.
Sometimes I helped the neighbor lady mind her little shop for an hour.
No one asked why the wedding was called off. No one mentioned Derek or Riley. I almost let myself believe those seven years were just a dream.
Until the evening Riley showed up at my neighborhood gate.
I was walking back from a stroll when I spotted her. She’d lost weight. Her lips were pale, her hair pulled
back without much care, and she had a paper bag in her hand.
For a second, it threw me. She used to be the one who fussed over looks–always saying even without makeup, at least brush your hair smooth and put on some lipstick.
When she saw me, she walked over fast and held out the bag. “Maya, you used to love the lemon bars from this place. I stood in line to get them.”
I looked at her. I didn’t take the bag.
Her hand faltered. After a few seconds, she forced another smile. “It’s okay if you don’t want them.”
I was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Why are you here?”
She dropped her gaze. “I was hoping we could take a walk. Just for a little bit.”
I wanted to say no. But I remembered freshman year, the first time she came to my house, holding that same
kind of paper bag with lemon bars.
I turned without a word and started walking toward Old
Main Street. She fell in step beside me.
The old stationery shop was still there, just a newer sign and a rack of hair clips out front.
Riley stared at it for a while, her voice softer. “You remember? Sophomore year, I bought you that pink pencil case right here.”
“I remember,” I said.
She gave a weak smile. “You used it till the zipper
broke. And you still wouldn’t throw it away.”
“Because you gave it to me.‘
Her smile cracked.
Somebody was pushing a cart nearby, selling roasted chestnuts. The smell drifted over on the breeze.
We walked slowly. Neither of us brought up Derek.
Then, near the front of Fairview High School, Riley stopped walking.
“Maya, I’m sorry.” She balled her fists at her sides, voice rough. “I know I crossed lines I shouldn’t have.”
“I told myself you and Derek were almost married, so it didn’t matter if he helped me a little. I told myself you were my best friend–that even if you found out, you’d understand.”
She lowered her head, tears splashing onto her hands. “I forgot the biggest thing. He was your fiancé.”
I stared ahead and didn’t answer right away.
The high school gate had been repainted, but the alley beside it hadn’t changed at all.
I stopped there and asked, “Riley, do you remember this spot?”
She followed my gaze, biting her lip. “Yeah. I remember.”
This was the alley where those guys cornered her. The
alley where I threw my arm up and took the hit from the glass bottle. Afterward, she lay across that hospital bed, crying that if anyone ever hurt me, she’d never let
them get away with it.
I looked at that alley and felt nothing but sadness. “You really were good to me back then, Riley.”
Her head snapped up.
I said it quietly. “So I don’t hate you.”
Her eyes went redder.
But I made myself finish the rest. “I just can’t keep you as my best friend anymore.”
The light in her eyes flickered once, then went out.
After a long pause, she said it so low I almost didn’t catch it. “I know. I’m the one who lost you.”
The evening wind moved through the trees by the school gate, leaves whispering.
She set the bag of lemon bars on the stone ledge beside us. “Maya, I won’t bother you again.”
She turned and walked away.
I stood at the gate and watched her disappear past that alley.
Some old feelings still lingered. But they’d never find their way back to what they were.