Chapter 14 – The End of Summer Doesn’t Mean the End of Us
Florence was golden in the mornings.
Maya stood on her little balcony with coffee in hand, watching the street vendors set up their carts and tourists shuffle past with maps and sunhats. She had exactly eleven days left.
And a decision she hadn't made yet.
Her final workshop was that afternoon, and afterward, the program director had pulled her aside.
"We want to offer you an extended fellowship. One semester. Paid. More gallery exposure, travel included."
Maya had nodded. Smiled. Accepted the information. Then walked home in silence, heart thudding.
This was more than a detour.
It was a fork in the road.
She didn't call Liam that night.
She couldn't. Not yet. Not with that kind of news.
So instead, she walked along the Arno River, her sketchbook tucked under her arm, and stopped at the Ponte Vecchio bridge. She let herself cry.
She didn't know if it was the excitement or the fear.
All she knew was this: she wanted the life she was starting to glimpse. The freedom. The discovery. The version of herself that wasn't afraid to ask for more.
But she also wanted him.
And wanting both started to feel impossible.
Liam noticed the shift.
The way her calls grew shorter. The silences a little longer. The I miss yous a little more delayed.
He'd read every letter. Reread some of them until the paper started to wear thin.
And he kept replaying her words from that voicemail: I'm not the same girl you said goodbye to.
He was proud. So proud.
But sometimes pride didn't warm a cold pillow.
Zoey called Liam.
"Has she told you yet?" she asked.
"Told me what?"
Zoey sighed. "Never mind. She should be the one to say it."
"Zoey, don't do that."
"She might stay longer."
Liam's breath caught.
"Oh."
"I think she's scared to tell you because she doesn't want you to let her go."
"What if letting her go is the only way I can love her right now?"
"She doesn't want you to wait forever, Liam."
"I don't need forever," he said. "I just need a reason to believe this isn't where it ends."
Maya finally called.
Three days later. It was late for her, early for him.
"I have to tell you something," she said.
Liam was quiet. "Okay."
"They offered me an extension. One more semester. It's... it's big."
Liam looked out his window. The sky was still gray with dawn.
"I figured."
"I haven't said yes."
"But you want to."
She didn't deny it.
"Maya…" he took a deep breath, "I love you. And I want you to do this if it's right. I'm not going to hold you back."
"But I don't want to lose us."
"We already lost the version of us that belonged to the old town and the high school parking lot. Maybe now we find out who we are next."
"I don't know if I can be everything at once," she said, voice cracking.
"You don't have to be. Just be honest. Always."
Silence stretched.
"I think I need to stay," she whispered.
"I think I already knew that."
When the call ended, Maya curled up on the floor of her room and cried.
Not because she was sad.
But because she knew she had to break her own heart a little to make room for the person she was becoming.
And maybe—just maybe—Liam would still be there when she found her way back.
Liam didn't cry.
He went for a run. Fixed a sink. Helped his mom paint the back porch.
Then, when the house was quiet, he pulled out the final letter—the one Maya hadn't written.
The one he wrote.
Maya,
I used to think love meant always being near you. Holding your hand. Watching you laugh with your eyes closed and your chin tilted up like you do when you're really happy.
But I'm learning something now.
Love isn't about holding you back.
It's about letting you fly.
And believing that somewhere down the road, we'll find each other again—not as the people we were, but as the people we fought like hell to become.
I'm still yours. Maybe not in the same way. But always in the way that counts.
Come home when you're ready.
I'll be here.
Liam.