Nikohl Boosheri + Instagram

"Girl Code," she explained, showing the older woman her book, "it's a book for female entrepreneurs. Building confidence, women supporting women, that sort of thing." Probably not the fiction most read on the beach, but she was always striving to be better in business, still feeling a bit like she was playing catch up. "Daymond John's The Power of Broke is in my bag if I finish this today. I'm hopelessly boring unfortunately. What did you bring?"

for @leyla-tehrani

"So what is it you're reading?" Aleja asked curiously, looking over at the woman a short distance from her on the beach. She'd brought her own large bag of books and things, but could never bring herself to focus while sitting in the sand and sun.

Leyla smiled warmly, though it had been a little jarring to have a ball flying at her face, it had clearly not been intentional. Following his gaze for a second, she wondered if one of the kids over there was his. "Very," she answered his question first, "it's a book for female entrepreneurs, Girl Code. I read a lot of business books these days. Is one of those kids over there yours? I saw you do a Dad check."

"You got it," Wesley couldn't help but chuckle at Leyla's response. Well, at least she wasn't upset. He glanced over at Ary for a second then back over at Leyla. "Good read?" he asked, head tilting in an attempt to make out just what book she had been reading anyway.

Leyla usually tried to keep her looking back to therapy sessions, especially to that time, this man. However, looking directly at him made that part hard to ignore. If she was supposed to feel any relief he was still alive, it was jumbled up in all the other emotions she was rapidly trying to process. Fury was winning out as she stared at her own personal nightmare.

She waited for an explanation, one she hoped would be just stumbling through, not here to hurt kind, trusting people. None was offered as he looked at her like he was just struck dumb. "Yes, I do," she snipped, "I finally started my own business. It's called Mawk Tales, it's here on the coast." Part of her still told him like she hoped he'd be proud, but if he actually said that, she might lose her shit in front of all of these people. "What are you doing here? These people still trust--at least most of them seem to, and you and I both know that you are not built to hold anyone's trust."

Vitus had lost the borders of his twenties to a head-fogged downward spiral, crafted by his parents and accelerated by his own hand. Without structure, his memories had buckled and bent inward toward each other. Some had collapsed entirely. He'd carried the pieces with him ever since. And now, up from the rubble of those years, Leyla rose like pinpoint-sharp debris, resurrected. She brought the same blaze with which she'd bitten him during those last few conversations they had. Her rage had followed him cross-country back then, bleeding across the width of the States. Before his eyes had even finished clearing, his skin began to itch. With flame, with scar tissue, with memory.

She looked the same. No, she looked better, healthier, than he recalled. Even as decade-old remorse slammed him sideways, squeezing all the breath from his lungs at once, he couldn't help but feel a touch of relief at that. Despite everything, she'd made it to her thirties. So many other loved ones from back then hadn't. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came right away, so he closed it again. Another few blinks, like he couldn't be sure she was real. And then, stupidly, quietly, "Leyla? What are you—What? You live here now?"

"Right. So you do remember?" She said with a warm smile. Good for him. As someone in the customer service business, she always found that to be a highly valuable trait. "I heard about that," she admitted, "I'm considering it actually. I've always wanted one, but I do share custody of my roommates' dogs and I work so much...I'm never sure if I'll have the time." She was really saying too much to the guy just trying to make her coffee. "I think there was worse things to be than a crazy cat lady," she replied with a small laugh, "oh, you definitely shouldn't have! So is the dog Blake Lively or Hugh Jackman?"

Chandler nodded. "Still want that hot and medium, right?" He confirmed, keeping himself busy behind the bar as he continued to talk to her about the pets. "They actually have some adoption event coming up at the end of this week." He informed her and nodded as she commented it was hard not to adopt all of the cats. "Yeah, I also have a dog at home so I'm keeping my limit at one of each 'cause I'm not gonna turn into the crazy cat lady in my neighborhood. But his name is Ryan Reynolds - that was what the shelter named him and I couldn't possibly de-Reynolds him, you know?"

I don't think I'm meant for this world It wants me straight, but I huddle up and curl But I don't want to give up the fight It's black or white, it's wrong or right, and I am just a girl

Is it too late? For me? How will I be remembered when I leave?

Vitus hadn't built the walls, those were under construction long before him, but he'd been the one to slide under as it sealed shut. Like an action hero. Then, his betrayal had simply melded it in place. Opening up would mean pain, and no amount of therapy had successfully opened the cage that protected her heart, her very brittle, fragile heart.

She hadn't meant to break him--or maybe she had. But she had meant every word. Sleepless nights spent at his side pressing all the broken pieces back together, solid when he shook, warm when he was too exhausted to fall easily into dreams, a breath when he couldn't find air. There was never anywhere else she wanted to be. The irony of the Lighthouse in view wasn't lost on her. She had tried to be a light in the storm, a guide back home. Even when it got complicated, it was easy. And it wasn't enough.

She wanted answers. Answers he couldn't offer, ones she wasn't even sure would make her feel better. "Deep breaths," she whispered, cursing herself for showing him any mercy. She had sworn to herself she wouldn't if they were ever to cross paths again, but they were the same broken. "You need to find out why," she said, "the people you'll keep hurting until you do, they deserve that."

His promise that he did love her went unacknowledged because she did know he had, but it hadn't been real. Real love, if it existed, did not do what he did. She simply chose to no longer believe. Part of her would have given him her hand, let him find comfort in it. In her. But she couldn't, she had to protect herself first. No one else was going to.

"Please stop saying sorry," she breathed out, a single stray tear sliding down her cheek unchecked, "you had reason to worry, and I know I have punished you enough. But I don't want your apology. You broke my heart, you broke my trust, you made my nightmare a reality. Someone newer, shinier, thinner, prettier, more exciting, whatever it was. I know you said it wasn't me, and I know that, but you can see how I'll struggle with that anyway, right? I asked you for faithfulness, a lot of other people make different arrangements. You could have just told me you didn't want to do that anymore." She was circling back to the question that screamed in echos within her mind. Why, why, why. And there was no why. With an exhale, she let it go out with the waves retreating back into the ocean. At least for now. "Deep breaths, Vitus, take deep breaths."

Vitus had hoped for something softer, with her, after all these years. Time had a way of doing that—taking the bite out of memories, until the once-visceral pain turned phantom, like a long-gone limb. But Leyla's eyes didn't melt into her core like his own did. Her voice didn't compress and fold itself over, bowing under the weight of him. No, Leyla remained as hardened and sharp as the day he lost her.

Out on the beach in broad daylight, the last event of summer buzzing around him, Vitus was trying his best not to cry. But then she said that—You were easy to love. Why wasn't that enough?—and the thing in his chest quit howling long enough to crumble. It punched a shuddering breath out of his lungs. Vitus wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stabilize, as the first tears finally tipped over and fell down his face.

He had never thought himself easy to love, but especially not when he was in his twenties, and especially not when they met. Leyla had held him on the bathroom floor while his hands shook, on the tail end of a coke comedown. She'd seen him crawl into bed at four in the morning, exhausted and empty after draining sessions with his clients. She'd let him cry into the cradle of her neck after a day's worth of panic attacks as he tried to build a new place in his life for his parents. And through it all, she'd loved him. She'd loved him, she'd loved him. And he'd loved her too, because she knew what it was, to live like that. To be shredded and unwilling to look at her pieces long enough to reassemble them.

And yet. He'd still cheated on her. And then he'd done it again, and again, and again, to other partners that came after her. How many people had come up against his fever, promised to love him through it, only to end up burning to death in his arms?

"I don't... know. I mean, yes, but it wasn't you," he said again, speaking through the guilt pouring down his cheeks. Vitus pawed at his face, if only to save her the sight of him like that, but it didn't quite work. "Nothing is ever enough. I don't know why. I wish I could tell you, but I don't—Something in me is just—" He gestured at his sternum, trying to indicate the ache in there, the beast that had been demanding more more more for as long as he could remember. "I know how much you loved me. And I loved you like that too. I really did."

To make matters worse—Leyla's lips quivered, too, and Vitus immediately wanted to step forward. He wanted to reach, offer his open palm to her, say what can I give you? just like he did the night they met. He didn't. He stayed in place, battered by guilt over the fact that he had broken her so severely ten years ago that she still didn't believe in love, still couldn't talk to him without crying.

"I'm sorry. I'm really glad you're doing better. I worried about you, a lot, after—" A sniffle. Another hand across his face, as if he could wipe his identity right off of himself, bury it in the sand, and start fresh as someone new. "I'm so sorry, Leyla. I know it can't fix anything. But I just—I never stopped being sorry."

Part of Leyla had wanted to get a place on her own, close herself off completely at the end of a long day. No one to tell her when she needed to stop working sounded divine. But she had learned the importance of coming into the light, and so she made the choice to surround herself with people. Bleary-eyed from looking at the numbers from the weekend on her laptop, she went to make herself some tea. The 'hmm' reached her ears before she realized anyone was in here. "Tea," she corrected as she grabbed her teapot and began to fill it with water, "lavender to relax. Would you like some to go with your snack?"

WHO: Darrius & @leyla-tehrani

WHERE: home; coastal area

WHEN: August, 2023

School would be starting soon, and although Darrius loved teaching at the community center, he absolutely dreaded the last few weeks before the first day. Sure, he could play it cool and say that he loved coming up with lesson plans and deciding what they would learn and when and why and how, but there was that extra layer of stress that sometimes led to him needing some sort of sweet treat. That was why he found himself with his head in the fridge, sorting through jars of this and that, and letting out a 'hmm,' only righting himself when he heard someone else enter the kitchen. "Are you looking for a snack, too?"

The world felt very small in that moment, almost comfortingly so for once. Leyla wasn't the best at letting people in, or letting them stay in. It didn't make her the best lover or friend, but Cemile was one of the few that got in and stayed. The busyness of the start up had meant she hadn't been able to keep in touch as much as she would have liked, and this was exactly what she needed. Having a friend sent waves of relief through her. "I finally did it, started my own business. I couldn't do it in the city, too much noise, too many memories, so I did some research and found this place. Put a non-alcoholic bar right on the coast, and it's doing really well. I feel a bit like I'm in my Hallmark era...I mean, without the shirtless lumberjack rebuilding an old inn." Scrunching up her nose at the idea of romance in her movie, she was not looking for that right now. "Okay now your turn."

Cemile turned slightly at the sound of her name being called, giving a rare smile once she saw who it was. The paint was no longer her priority, her friend now being the center of her attention. "Leyla?" she asked, mostly out of disbelief than anything. She hadn't seen her in a while, but still tried her best to keep in touch. She probably missed a conversation or two since her big move, but was delighted to get the chance to catch up with her. She tried her best to fit in the small town, but it still was a bit daunting. So the familiar face was a welcome surprise. "What are you doing in Merrock?"

Sure, if you do my interviews when I'm ready to hire again. I hate those! I don't know how I ever manage to do anything else, it seems endless sometimes, right? One bonus to a non-alcoholic bar, I got to skip that, which I've heard is a bitch. I would love that, actually, thanks.

Will you do my math then? It’s always like there is something I need to do, or something I am missing. Like I’m never done with the paperwork. The liquor license was what took the longest, but thankfully I don’t need to worry about that part for a while. It takes a little off of your workload, which I am grateful for. I can give you some numbers if you’d like.

"Sentences with technically don't usually end well," she murmured, knowing 'but' was coming. Leyla chose to live with roommates, so she had expected they might actually want to be her friend. It didn't make it easy for her to let people in, feeling like that always came with a big sign that said 'I'm broken, please find out why.' With a sigh and only a hint of a smile, she set her book aside. "Okay," she relented, placing her hat down on her chair to hold it before putting her hair in a low ponytail. "I'll play frisbee with you if you don't laugh when I'm bad at it."

"I mean, technically it is a beach activity." One she could see herself doing on a more quiet day, but on a day like today, she preferred more lively activities. "But there are a few more fun things to do. Maybe we should build a sandcastle? Or wait no- how about we toss a frisbee around?" she suggested, with a grin. She knew Leyla often kept to herself, but it wouldn't stop Aisha from trying to get her to hang out with her. She'd win her over and befriend her, eventually.