Unwritten Steps

Chapter 13: The Echo of Hope

Aurora closed the apartment door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as the silence of her home pressed in around her. The night outside had been alive with the sound of crickets and the hum of distant cars, but inside, there was only stillness. She clutched her hoodie tighter, feeling the fabric between her fingers as if it could ground her. Finn's words echoed in her mind: "You're not as broken as you think."

She wanted to believe him. For a fleeting moment, sitting by the lake, she had believed him. It was easy to feel whole when the moonlight softened the edges of the world, when Finn was next to her, grounding her with his quiet presence. But here, in the small apartment she shared with nothing but her thoughts, the weight of her doubts returned like an unwelcome guest.

Aurora glanced at the small pile of laundry in the corner, the dishes she'd left undone in the sink, the book she'd abandoned on her bed. Everything seemed to remind her of what she hadn't done, what she hadn't accomplished. She kicked off her shoes, letting them fall in a heap by the door, and crossed the room to her bed. Sitting down, she let her fingers trace over the tattoo on her forearm: Continue. The semicolon stood tall as the "I," a reminder of the nights when it felt like the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

Her fingers brushed over the ink, and she sighed. It wasn't her first tattoo—that one, hidden on her hip, was the word Broken. Bold, raw letters that she'd gotten in a moment of desperation when the weight of her life had felt unbearable. It was a secret she kept from almost everyone, the silent confession of how shattered she'd felt. But Continue was different. It wasn't just a reminder of the pain—it was a promise to herself to keep going, even when she didn't feel like she could.

Finn's words circled back in her head. "You're not as broken as you think." She let out a bitter laugh. He didn't know her—not really. He didn't know about the nights she spent staring at the ceiling, wondering what the point of it all was. He didn't know about the mornings where getting out of bed felt like scaling a mountain. And even if he did know, how could he say something like that with such conviction?

Aurora grabbed her book off the bed. The spine was worn, the edges of the pages soft from years of being turned. She flipped it open, the familiar words of Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief welcoming her back like an old friend. It had always been her escape. A way to pretend, even for a moment, that she wasn't trapped in her own life. The stories reminded her of the girl she used to be—curious, hopeful, searching for something bigger than herself. She missed that girl.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. Aurora glanced at the screen and saw Rachel's name: "Showcase results are tomorrow! You ready?"

She sighed and set the book aside. Ready. The word tasted bitter. She should've felt excited, but all she felt was dread. What if she didn't make it? What if she did? Either way, it felt like she was setting herself up for failure. Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to take a deep breath.

The phone buzzed again. This time, it was Finn: "You're reading again, aren't you?"

A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. "What makes you think that?" she typed back.

"Because I know you. Now come outside."

She frowned, slipping on her hoodie as she headed for the door. Finn always had a way of pulling her out of her head, but his plans were rarely predictable. She found him leaning against his truck, his arms crossed and the tattoos on his forearm catching the streetlight. A bat, a butterfly, a dagger, and a scorpion. Each design felt like a contradiction, yet somehow they fit him perfectly.

"What are you planning this time?" Aurora asked, crossing her arms.

Finn smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know? Get in."

Aurora rolled her eyes but climbed into the passenger seat. "You know, normal people just text their friends to hang out. They don't ambush them."

"And where's the fun in that?" Finn said, starting the engine.

The drive took them farther out of town than Aurora expected. The city lights faded, replaced by dark fields and winding backroads. She leaned her head against the window, watching the shadows of trees blur past.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked.

"Nope," Finn replied, grinning.

She groaned but didn't press further. She trusted him, even if she didn't understand why.

When the truck finally stopped, Aurora stepped out and realized they were at the edge of a lake. The moon hung low, its reflection rippling across the water. Finn opened the truck bed and grabbed a flashlight and a net. "Tadpoles," he said with a mischievous grin.

Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Sometimes you need to do something ridiculous," Finn said, crouching by the water. "Life isn't always about being perfect."

Aurora snorted but crouched beside him, the flashlight wobbling in her hand. For a while, they worked in silence, laughing when Finn's attempts ended in splashes. Eventually, he held up a tiny tadpole in triumph, grinning like a kid.

"There it is," Finn said, turning to her. "I knew you could still laugh."

For the first time in a long while, Aurora felt a flicker of something she hadn't dared to name: hope.