Where the Wounds Bloom

Chapter Three: Glass.

The rain had stopped by the time Skye and Kari left the coffee shop, but the world outside still felt damp and raw. The gray sky mirrored the lingering heaviness in Skye's heart, but there was a thread of something lighter running through her-a fragile hope, maybe, that she could start to change. They decided to walk back to Kari's apartment, not wanting to end the conversation just yet. Skye welcomed the quiet, letting the soft sound of their footsteps fill the silence between them.

Kari unlocked the door to her place, a cozy space filled with soft blankets, potted plants, and the smell of vanilla from a candle burning on the table. It felt safe, just like the coffee shop-a place where they could leave the outside world behind, even if only for a little while. Kari poured two glasses of water and handed one to Skye before sitting beside her on the worn-out couch.

"So," Kari began, her voice gentle as ever, "how are you feeling now?"

Skye took a slow sip, leaning back against the cushions. She considered the question for a moment, closing her eyes and tuning in to her body like Kari had taught her earlier. "I still feel heavy," she admitted, "but it's like... it's not pressing down on me as much. Like I can breathe a little easier."

Kari nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "That's a good sign, Skye. This process-it's not about fixing everything right away. It's about finding those moments when the pressure lets up, even just a little. Letting yourself exist with the heaviness but knowing you're more than just that."

Skye's gaze wandered around the room, settling on a photo of them as kids, both grinning widely, their faces smudged with dirt from some long-forgotten adventure. She couldn't help but smile a little, but it faded as her thoughts drifted back to everything she'd been through. "It's just hard, you know?" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "All those things I tried to hold onto-people, relationships, even my own hope. It always ends up feeling like... I'm the one left to carry all the weight when things fall apart."

Kari looked down at her glass, nodding slowly. "I know what you mean. It's like you invest so much in something or someone, and then they just... aren't there when you need them. And you're left wondering if it's something you did wrong or if the world is just too unreliable to trust in the first place."

Skye's eyes filled with unshed tears, and she bit her lip to keep them from spilling over. "I'm so tired of it, Kari. I'm tired of trying to be enough for people who only want parts of me-the parts that don't make mistakes, that don't need too much. I'm tired of feeling like I have to earn love, only for it to slip away when things get hard."

Kari reached out, gently rubbing Skye's back in soothing circles. "You're allowed to feel that way, Skye. You're allowed to be angry and hurt and fed up with it all. I've felt that too-this frustration with the world, with people who only show up when it's easy. It's exhausting. And honestly, it's okay to want something different."

Skye leaned into the comfort of her sister's touch, letting the tears she'd been holding back finally spill over. "I just... I don't want to keep hoping for something that's never going to come. I don't want to keep breaking my own heart, waiting for someone else to fix it."

Kari's expression softened, her eyes glistening with empathy. "Then maybe it's time to focus on you, Skye. Not on who you can be for someone else, but on what makes you feel at peace. And that might mean setting boundaries-not just with people, but with those old hopes and expectations that keep hurting you."

Skye wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, feeling a small flicker of determination stir within her. "But how do you do that? How do you set those boundaries when the world keeps pushing back, when people keep expecting you to be who they want?"

Kari hesitated, thinking over her words. "It's not easy. It's probably the hardest thing I've had to learn. But... it starts with recognizing that your peace matters, even if it means disappointing others sometimes. It means saying no, even when you want to say yes just to keep the peace. It's choosing to protect your own heart because you've learned the hard way that not everyone will."

Skye nodded slowly, letting Kari's words sink in. "I think I've always been afraid to do that. Afraid that if I set those boundaries, no one would stick around. But maybe... maybe I'm realizing that the ones who leave when you set boundaries aren't the ones you need to hold onto in the first place."

Kari squeezed her hand, her smile filled with pride. "Exactly, Skye. You deserve people who will respect your space, who won't just take and leave when it's inconvenient. And maybe... maybe that starts with respecting your own space first. Giving yourself permission to be who you are without needing to be perfect."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them, but it felt different now-less like a burden and more like an unspoken promise. A promise that things could change, even if only little by little.

Skye took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity she hadn't felt in a long time. "Okay. I think... I think I'm ready to try this. To try letting go of the idea that I need to find peace in someone else's hands. Maybe it's time to look for it in myself instead."

Kari's smile widened, and she pulled Skye into a warm hug. "You're stronger than you think, Skye. And you're not doing this alone. We'll take it one breath, one step at a time. And if the world tries to push back, we'll remind it that your peace is worth fighting for."

Skye held onto Kari tightly, letting her sister's words seep into the cracks in her heart. The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel like she had to face it all on her own. And that small spark of hope, no matter how fragile, was enough to make her believe that maybe-just maybe-she could find her way back to herself.