Chapter Six.

Harlow's phone buzzed in her hand, the caller ID flashing with an unknown number. A deep sense of unease coiled in her stomach, but against her better judgment, she answered.

"Hello?" Her voice was tentative, already dreading what she might hear.

A slow, taunting chuckle slithered through the speaker. "Well, well, well. Look who finally answered my call."

Harlow's blood ran cold. She knew that voice too well—her ex-best friend, her old dealer, the person who had once been her entire world before she had chosen sobriety.

Her fingers tightened around the phone as she fought back the rising panic. "What do you want?" she asked, forcing steel into her voice despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

"Oh, relax, angel," the girl cooed, the nickname hitting her like a slap. "Just checking in. Thought you might need a little…pick-me-up. You know, for old time's sake."

Harlow's mouth went dry. Part of her—the weakest, most desperate part—wanted to say yes. She still remembered the rush, the sweet oblivion, the way the world used to blur into something bearable. But she had come too far to slip now. She clenched her jaw.

"I don't do that anymore," she said, voice shaking.

A scoff. "Oh, come on. When did you become so boring? Don't tell me you don't miss our fun times?"

Harlow squeezed her eyes shut as flashes of her past rushed in—hazy nights filled with laughter that wasn't real, hands grasping for something that never lasted, the bottomless pit that had almost swallowed her whole.

"No," she said, voice cracking. "I don't. Fuck off." And with that, she ended the call with trembling hands.

Her breath hitched. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in, and before she could stop herself, she ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her chest heaved, her mind spinning as she pressed her back against the cool surface of the door. The weight of temptation sat heavy on her chest.

She knew where she had hidden it—the razor blade tucked away in the back of the cabinet, an old remnant of her darkest moments. Her fingers twitched, but she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tight. No. Not again.

Meanwhile, Sage had been waiting, checking her phone when she noticed the abrupt hang-up. Her heart sank. Something was wrong. She grabbed Harlow's phone from the bed and saw the unknown number. Instinctively, she redialed.

The familiar, mocking voice answered. "Who's this?"

Sage's voice was venomous. "You don't get to call her. You don't get to mess with her head. She's better than you, stronger than you, and you're nothing but a pathetic leech trying to drag her down. Stay the hell away from her."

Before the girl could get a word in, Sage ended the call and shot to her feet. Panic thrummed through her veins as she ran to the bathroom door, knocking urgently. "Harlow?"

Silence. Then, a broken voice. "Why do you even like me? I'm so fucked up, Sage. I'm supposed to be an angel, but I'm broken."

Sage pressed her forehead against the door. "Baby, please open the door. Please."

After a moment, the lock clicked. The door cracked open, revealing Harlow with tears streaming down her face. Sage wasted no time—she pulled her into her arms, holding her tight, whispering against her hair, "I was trying to tell you this earlier. I like you, all of you. Your strength, your heart, your everything. You are not broken, Harlow."

Harlow sobbed into her chest, gripping onto her like she was the only thing keeping her grounded. "I'm so scared," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared because I'm falling for you so fast. But you make me feel so safe."

Sage tilted her chin up gently, wiping away her tears. "Then fall," she murmured. "I promise I'll catch you."

Harlow let out a broken laugh, leaning into her touch. Sage scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her back to the bed. They curled up together, the warmth of Sage's presence calming the storm in Harlow's mind.

After a long moment of silence, Sage finally spoke again. "I wanted to ask you something."

Harlow stiffened slightly, nerves prickling her skin. "What is it?"

Sage took a deep breath, her grip on Harlow tightening just slightly. "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled in Harlow's eyes again, but this time, they weren't from pain. She let out a shaky laugh, nodding fervently. "Yes. Oh my God, yes."

A slow, beautiful smile spread across Sage's lips before she kissed her, slow and deep, sealing the promise between them.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and warmth—they played Mario Kart, with Sage winning again, much to Harlow's exaggerated frustration. Then, they settled under the blankets, watching Demon Slayer on the TV.

As the credits rolled on the first episode, Harlow whispered, "Thank you for saving me."

Sage kissed her forehead. "Always."

And for the first time in a long time, Harlow felt like maybe—just maybe—she could finally be okay.