The night had grown cooler by the time the last song faded and the crowd began to scatter. Claire pulled her jacket tighter, still feeling the aftershocks of Diana's words — not loud, not cruel, but piercing in their own way.
Miko noticed. "Let me call a ride," he said gently. "I'll drop you and Vienna off."
Vienna stretched her arms. "Sounds perfect. My legs are done."
They made their way to the pickup spot, the glittering lights of the Riverwalk dimming behind them. No one said much at first — the silence wasn't awkward, just thoughtful.
Once in the car, Claire leaned her head against the window, watching the blur of streetlights pass. Her mind kept circling back to Diana's voice, the edge of hurt wrapped in quiet judgment. "Who you protect. Who you leave behind."
Vienna broke the silence. "Hey," she said, nudging Claire with her elbow. "Don't let her words rent space in your head. You didn't do anything wrong."
Claire gave a soft, grateful smile. "I know. It's just… she was important to me. Before everything got complicated."
Miko glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "That kind of history doesn't disappear. But it doesn't have to own you either."
Claire looked at him. "I didn't expect to see her tonight."
"I know," Miko said. "But even if she hadn't shown up, this night still would've mattered. You still made the choice to come. To be honest. To be here."
Vienna nodded. "You're allowed to move on, Claire. And you're allowed to not have it all figured out yet."
Claire exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. "Thanks. Both of you."
The car ride continued in companionable quiet, the kind that only comes when words have already done what they needed to. When Miko pulled up to her house, he turned slightly in his seat.
"You'll be okay?" he asked.
Claire nodded. "Yeah. I think so."
Vienna leaned across the seat. "Call me if you spiral. Or if you need memes. Or carbs."
Claire laughed. "Deal."
She stepped out, waving as the car pulled away, their support lingering like warmth around her. The porch light spilled soft gold across the front steps as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.
The house was quiet. Her mom must've already gone to bed.
Claire made her way to her room, her body tired but her mind still buzzing. She sat on the edge of her bed for a long moment, staring at the soft glow of her phone screen before finally setting it down.
No more messages. No more conversations for tonight.
She lay down, the room dark around her, the distant hum of the city barely audible beyond her window. She closed her eyes.
But sleep didn't come quickly. Her thoughts flickered — Diana's sharp gaze, Miko's quiet steadiness, Vienna's loyalty. And somewhere in between all that… her own voice. The one that had said: "I'm not trying to hurt anyone."
It was the truth. And maybe that had to be enough, for now.
She turned onto her side, drawing the blanket up over her shoulder, and let herself breathe — slowly, deeply — until the storm inside her finally began to quiet.
Claire sat cross-legged on her bed, the faint hum of city traffic outside her window barely registering. Her room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of her bedside lamp. The concert was over, Miko and Vienna had walked her home, and Diana's words still echoed in her head like a stubborn melody.
She grabbed her phone.
Claire:
You up?
It took only a few seconds before the reply came.
Sam:
Always. What's up?
Claire:
Can I call?
Sam:
Duh. Call me.
Claire pressed the call icon, and after one ring, Sam picked up.
"Hey," Sam said, her voice warm and familiar, grounding.
"Hey," Claire replied, her voice quieter.
"How was the concert? Vienna sent me a blurry pic of your 'serious face' during the second band," Sam teased gently.
Claire gave a tired laugh. "It was... good. The music was amazing. It felt like I could breathe again. But then Diana showed up."
There was a pause. "Oh."
"She didn't do anything dramatic. Just… words. The kind that dig under your skin."
Classic Diana," Sam muttered. "What did she say?"
Claire shifted on her bed. "She asked if I thought it wasn't strange—me sitting with Miko after everything. Then she said something like… when people say they've changed, it shows in who they protect and who they leave behind."
"Ouch," Sam said softly. "That's heavy. Even for her."
"I know," Claire murmured. "And I get it. We were friends once. We hurt each other in ways that didn't look like fights but still left bruises. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Miko just—he asked, and I didn't want to lie anymore. I brought Vienna, tried to keep it simple. But it still felt like choosing sides."
"You're not responsible for Diana's hurt," Sam said, her tone gentle but firm. "You've tried. You've been careful. You brought Vienna. That says everything."
"But it still hurt her," Claire whispered. "And part of me keeps wondering if I'm the villain in her version of this story."
Sam was quiet for a beat. "Maybe you are. Maybe she needs you to be that, for now. But that doesn't mean you actually are."
Claire exhaled shakily. "I wish things could go back. Before everything got messy."
"Yeah," Sam said. "But if it didn't get messy, you wouldn't be this version of you. The one who tells her mom the truth. Who sets boundaries. Who doesn't ghost people or pretend nothing's wrong."
Claire gave a faint smile. "That version still cries a lot."
"Crying is just emotional laundry. Sometimes you need to rinse it out before you sleep."
Claire laughed, even if it cracked a little. "You always say weird metaphors like that."
"And you always call me when you need someone to say them," Sam replied. "Want me to stay on the phone till you fall asleep?"
Claire closed her eyes, the ache in her chest easing just a bit. "Yeah. Just talk. About anything."
Sam launched into a story about a bizarre barista at her neighborhood café who spelled her name "Samm" with two M's and a frog doodle. Claire listened, eyes closed, letting the words wrap around her like a blanket.
And slowly, she began to drift — not because everything was fixed…
…but because someone reminded her she didn't have to carry it all alone.