Fleeting Flames - Jenna Ortega x Fem Reader

Part 30.1

The months that followed your move to Miami were a blur of heartbreak and slow healing. Christmas came and went, a quieter celebration compared to the one Jenna had spent with your family the year before. That holiday had been filled with warmth and laughter.

New Year's passed with less fanfare; you stayed home with your father and mom, who had been steadily improving thanks to her diagnosis and treatment plan for Lupus. Despite occasional flare-ups, she had regained her joy and strength, and seeing her happy again was a light in your otherwise dim world.

By May, life had started to settle into a routine. You had found work at a local architectural engineering company—not the dream job you'd had in LA, but something to keep you going. Slowly, you began to find solace in small things: quiet mornings with your mom, laughter shared with your sister, and the comfort of being back home. But there was still a void, one that no amount of time or distance could fill.

Jenna.

She texted you every now and then, simple messages that reminded you how much she meant to you. You learned how to briefly reply to them so it wouldn't bring all that ache and heartbreak back. And yet, every time her name lit up your screen, your heart raced like it had in the beginning.

You hadn't told anyone how deeply you still felt her absence, because you thought some things were better left unsaid. Until one evening at dinner, where your mom and sister were both unusually chatty, and the conversation inevitably turned to Jenna.

"So," your sister began, her voice light and curious. "Have you talked to Jenna lately?"

You froze, your fork suspended mid-air. "Not really," you replied cautiously. "She texts me sometimes, but... it's hard."

"Hard how?" your mom asked gently, her eyes full of concern.

You sighed, setting your fork down and leaning back in your chair. "Because I miss her. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I left her. I had to—because of everything going on here—but it doesn't mean it hurts any less."

Your sister leaned forward, her tone probing but kind. "Do you think you'll ever go back to LA? For her?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, glancing at your mom, who gave you a soft smile of encouragement. "Maybe, I don't know," you admitted. "Right now I want to be here for mom. And I'm sure Jenna will have found someone better by the time I figure my shit out."

Your sister pressed on, asking a million questions about the brunette actress you called ex-girlfriend—her career, her favorite things, the way she made you smile. It felt strange, like they were fishing for something, but you brushed it off.

Your sister leaned back in her chair, studying you with a thoughtful expression. Then, as if she couldn't resist, she suddenly changed the subject. "OMG" she started, her tone bright and surprised, "your birthday is next week, right? Are we going to have a party or something?"

You blinked at her, caught off guard by the shift. "No," you replied quickly, shaking your head. "You know I hate celebrating my birthday."

"Oh, come on!" she protested, grinning. "You're turning another year older—what's not to celebrate? We could keep it small, just us, maybe a couple of friends—"

"Not happening," you cut in firmly, picking up your fork again and focusing on your plate.

"Why not?" she pressed. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. We'll make it fun! You deserve it."

You sighed, barely holding back an eye roll. "Seriously, drop it. No party."

Your sister exchanged a glance with your mom, clearly amused, but didn't push any further. They kept talking about plans for the week, but their voices started to blur together in your head.