---- Chapter 11 My arrival in the small upstate town was like stepping into a different season. The air was crisp, clean, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, a world away from the exhaust fumes and anxieties of New York City. Rosie' s Diner, with its red vinyl booths and the constant clatter of cutlery, became my sanctuary. My mother, bless her heart, had been worried sick when | first disappeared. But after a few carefully managed calls from a payphone, assuring her | was safe and finally, truly, away from Ethan, she 'd relaxed. "Just be happy, Mia," she' d said, her voice thick with emotion. "That's all | want for you." | was trying. One afternoon, as | was sketching the ancient, gnarled apple tree in the small park across from the diner, a flower pushed through a crack in the pavement at its base. A tiny, defiant daisy. ---- It made me smile. A small symbol of hope. Mom, true to her word, started gently nudging me towards a "normal" life. "There's a nice young man, Mia, a teacher at the high school. Your Aunt Carol knows his mother..." The idea of dating, of trusting someone again, felt monumental. But | knew Mom meant well. And a part of me, the part that wasn't still raw from Ethan, yearned for simple companionship. "Okay, Mom," | agreed. "I' Il meet him." The first few "arranged" meetings were... awkward. A nervous accountant who talked only about tax codes. A self-proclaimed "entrepreneur" whose brilliant idea was flavored bottled water. | was beginning to lose hope. Then, Mom mentioned "Dr. Miller s nephew." Noah. It turned out his aunt was a good friend of my Aunt Carol. Small town connections. We met for coffee, officially this time, not as a doctor and a ---- damsel in distress, or a clumsy coffee spiller and her victim. He was different from the other men. Quiet, observant, with a gentle humor that put me at ease. He didn' t talk about himself endlessly. He asked questions. He listened. He noticed the slight tremor in my hands when | reached for my cup, the shadows under my eyes | hadn' t quite managed to conceal with makeup. "You look tired, Mia," he said, his voice soft with concern, not judgment. "Long week at the diner," | mumbled, surprised by his observation. No one had noticed. Or no one had cared enough to say. Ethan would have just seen it as a flaw, an imperfection in his orbit. "We don't have to do this if you're not up to it," Noah said. "We can reschedule. Or just... not." He smiled. "No pressure." His consideration was a revelation. "No, it' s okay," | found myself saying. "I'm glad we' re doing this." And | was. ---- The conversation flowed easily. We talked about books, about the changing seasons, about the best place to get apple cider donuts in town. Simple things. Normal things. He didn' t try to impress me. He just... was. As we were leaving, he handed me a small, neatly folded piece of paper. "My number," he said. "If you ever need anything. Or just want to grab another coffee. As friends." He looked at me then, a direct, honest gaze. "You seem like you' re carrying a lot, Mia. And you smile with your eyes, even when you' re trying not to. It' s a nice smile." He paused. "If you ever need a friend, I' m a good listener." | stood there, speechless for a moment. His perception, his kindness, it was... disarming. A genuine smile, one that reached my eyes, finally broke through. "Thank you, Noah," | said. "I' d like that." Maybe, just maybe, happiness wasn' t an impossible dream after all.