Chasing the puck

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across Sarah’s bedroom. She stretched under the covers, her body slowly waking as her mind lingered in that peaceful, in-between space of sleep and consciousness. It had been a month since she moved out of the apartment she had shared with Tyler, and though the quiet mornings still felt a little foreign, she was beginning to embrace them.

With a deep breath, Sarah pushed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the cool hardwood floor, grounding her in the present moment. As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room. There was something different about the woman looking back at her—something stronger, more settled. She didn’t look weighed down anymore, and that realization brought a small smile to her lips.

Sarah padded into the kitchen, her steps light and unhurried. This was her routine now—waking up to a quiet apartment, making herself a cup of coffee, and enjoying the peace of the early morning hours. As she poured water into the coffee maker, she allowed her thoughts to wander. A month. It seemed both like a lifetime and a blink of an eye since she had made the decision to leave Tyler.

She glanced at her phone, sitting on the counter. No messages. There hadn’t been for days now, and Sarah wasn’t sure if that made her feel relieved or sad. Tyler had reached out a few times in the days following her move, but the silence had eventually settled between them like an unspoken agreement. They both knew it was over, and though it hurt, there was peace in that finality.

With her coffee in hand, Sarah walked to the small desk she had set up near the window. She opened her journal, the pages already filled with thoughts, reflections, and emotional confessions from the past month. Journaling had become her lifeline, a way to process everything she had been through and everything she was still feeling.

I think I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. She wrote the sentence quickly, her pen moving effortlessly across the page. It felt true, more true than anything else she had written in a long time. She wasn’t the same person she had been when she was with Tyler. She had changed—grown—and though there was still healing to be done, she was proud of the progress she had made.

Later that morning, after a long walk through the park, Sarah returned to her apartment feeling energized. The crisp fall air had done wonders for her mood, clearing away the last remnants of doubt that had lingered in her mind. She had spent too long second-guessing herself, wondering if she had made the right decision, but now, the fog had lifted. She knew she had.

Her phone buzzed as she stepped through the door. For a moment, her heart leapt, wondering if it was Tyler. But when she looked at the screen, she saw Summer’s name instead. Smiling, she swiped the message open.

Coffee this afternoon? Summer’s text read, followed by a coffee cup emoji.

Sarah typed back quickly, her smile widening. Absolutely.

By the time Sarah arrived at the café, Summer was already waiting, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She waved Sarah over, her eyes bright with excitement. “You’re glowing,” she said as Sarah sat down across from her.

Sarah laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely feeling better.”

They spent the next hour catching up, their conversation light and easy. Summer had been Sarah’s rock through the entire ordeal with Tyler, always ready with a word of encouragement or a joke to lift her spirits. Today was no different. They talked about work, about Summer’s latest date, and about Sarah’s plans for the future.

“I’m proud of you,” Summer said as they finished their coffee. “You’re doing exactly what you need to do—taking care of yourself.”

Sarah nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Summer. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

That evening, Sarah found herself walking past the restaurant where she and Tyler had celebrated their one-year anniversary. The sight of it brought a pang of nostalgia, but it wasn’t the overwhelming sadness she had once felt. Instead, it was a soft, bittersweet memory—one she could acknowledge and then let go of.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the entrance, and allowed herself to remember the good times. There had been love there, real love. But love hadn’t been enough to save them, and now, she was okay with that.

With a deep breath, she turned and continued walking, her steps steady and sure.

Back at her apartment, Sarah decided to spend the evening decorating. She had already unpacked most of her belongings, but the walls were still bare, and the space lacked the warmth she craved. She pulled out a box of framed photos, paintings, and small trinkets that had been gathering dust in her closet.

As she hung a painting on the wall above her couch, she stepped back and smiled. This apartment was finally starting to feel like home. It was hers, a reflection of her independence and the woman she was becoming. There were no traces of Tyler here, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

The next day at work, Sarah’s boss called her into his office. He offered her a new project—a high-profile assignment that came with a lot of responsibility. Sarah was both excited and nervous. It was the kind of opportunity she had been hoping for, but it also came with a lot of pressure.

“I know you can handle it,” her boss said, his eyes steady on hers. “You’ve been doing great work lately, and this is the perfect next step for you.”

Sarah accepted the project, her mind buzzing with possibilities. This was the fresh start she had been waiting for, a chance to prove to herself that she could succeed on her own terms.

As the week went on, Sarah’s days were filled with work, social events, and moments of quiet reflection. She started painting again, finding joy in the creative process she had long neglected. She joined a hiking group and spent her weekends exploring new trails, reconnecting with nature in a way that felt healing.

Through it all, she continued to focus on herself—her growth, her independence, and the life she was building. There were still moments of doubt, of loneliness, but they no longer defined her. She was learning to navigate them, to find peace in the quiet spaces of her life.