35 ᴍᴍ ꜰɪʟᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ I 🎀 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓈 [𝑔𝓍𝑔] 🎀

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑: 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒) [𝐌/𝐓𝐖]

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3: ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 29 [ᴍ/ᴛᴡ]

The cigarette hung loosely between Charlie's fingers as she stood on the rooftop, the cool breeze biting at her skin. She inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill her lungs, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions swirling in her chest. Her eyes, however, couldn't help but linger on Gracie, who still stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the city behind her.

Charlie noticed it right away—Gracie's hair. The long, soft waves she used to run her fingers through were gone, replaced by a sleek, short bob that framed Gracie's face perfectly. It made her look more mature and sharper, as though the past year had shaped her in ways that were both visible and unseen. And for some reason, the sight of it—a simple change—hit Charlie harder than she expected.

An ache bloomed in her chest, quiet but persistent, as she remembered how many times she had admired Gracie's beauty. How many mornings they had spent tangled in bed, Gracie's long hair fanning out on the pillow beside her. Now, looking at her, the difference was striking. She was still beautiful—breathtaking, even—but different. It was a reminder of everything that had changed between them and of how they had moved on. Or were supposed to have moved on.

Charlie dragged on her cigarette again, trying to focus on the warmth of the smoke in her lungs instead of the memories crashing through her mind like waves. The night they broke up, the way Gracie stood there, tears in her eyes, as Charlie walked away. It all came flooding back with a force she hadn't anticipated.

Gracie, meanwhile, had taken a step forward, her gaze steady but hesitant. "Hey," she said softly, breaking the silence between them.

Charlie flicked the ash from her cigarette, her expression neutral. "Hey," she replied, her voice cool and distant. She had to keep it together. No falling apart. Not now.

Gracie offered a small smile, though there was a tension in her eyes that mirrored the unease in the air. "I didn't think I'd run into you here," she said, her voice careful, testing the waters.

Charlie exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring out at the skyline. "Yeah, well, New York's a big city," she muttered. "Surprises happen."

Gracie nodded, her hands slipping into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced around, clearly unsure of how to proceed. "I saw the premiere downstairs," she said, her tone light. "Congrats on the new movie."

"Thanks," Charlie replied curtly, taking another drag from her cigarette. She didn't want to talk about the premiere. She didn't want to talk about anything. The cold edge in her tone wasn't meant to push Gracie away, but it felt like the only defence she had.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with all the words they weren't saying. Gracie shifted slightly, her eyes flicking to Charlie's cigarette, watching the way she smoked and the way her hands trembled ever so slightly.

"Still smoking, huh?" Gracie said, her voice soft but with an underlying tone of concern.

Charlie shrugged, blowing out another stream of smoke. "Yeah. Some things don't change."

Gracie didn't say anything at first, but her eyes lingered on Charlie for a moment longer, as if she were seeing through the tough exterior Charlie was trying so hard to maintain. There was a time when Gracie could read her like a book, when a single look would be enough to know what was going on in her head.

But now, it felt like they were standing on opposite sides of a wall—one they had both built.

Charlie's mind began to spiral, her thoughts racing back to the past—the countless nights they had spent together, the way Gracie's laugh would light up any room they were in, the quiet moments they shared when the world seemed too loud. She had loved Gracie, deeply, and she had tried so hard to hold onto that love, even when things had started to fall apart. But standing here, with so much time and space between them, it felt like she was looking at a stranger.