1. Memories

Hi, it's me, Evi.
Let me catch you up on the past few years.

As you already know, Bill and I broke up. I haven’t spoken to him since the day he left.

Two years ago, my parents’ marriage crumbled. My mom moved back to Belgium, while I stayed here with my dad—and my boyfriend, Wes. Wesley, technically.

After the divorce, Nick and Brenda split up too. Nick left to live with our mom, while Brenda stayed. She’s one of my closest friends now. She helped me get over Bill when I thought I never would.

Kim got married and has two kids. She lives about an hour away, and we’re still close. I try to visit at least once a month.

As for me, I work as a nurse at the hospital nearby. Wes is a doctor there—Dr. Smitz.

My dad moved in with his new girlfriend, but I stayed in my parents old house.

Leen followed Tom to LA. She left just weeks after they did, and last I heard, they’re married now.

After Bill and Tom left, the band went on a break. So, imagine my surprise when a package arrived earlier this week, their new album inside. The songs are different from their old stuff—more mature, different sound, different lyrics. And yet, they feel familiar.


July 1, 2014
I close the door behind me and head upstairs, exhausted from a hectic shift at the hospital.

After a quick shower, I change into comfortable clothes and grab my phone.

Evi: I'm desperate for wine. Wanna join?

I toss my phone onto the kitchen table and open the fridge, searching for leftovers. The near-empty shelves mock me. With a sigh, I send another text.

Evi: And I'll order pizza. Pepperoni okay?

Brenda’s replies instantly.

Brenda: On my way! Pepperoni is fine.

Smiling, I order the pizza, then grab a bottle of red and another of white from the garage. Wes is on call tonight, which means he won’t be home. That suits me just fine.

A knock on the garage door breaks my thoughts.

"Pizza has arrived!" Brenda announces, stepping inside.

"Finally," I grin. "I'm starving!"

We’re deep into our second bottle of wine when we shift to the living room, laughter echoing through the room.

“How was your date?” I ask, sinking into the couch, my head pleasantly light.

“Awful. Never again with someone that old.” She laughs, shaking her head.

“He wasn’t that old. Wes is older,” I point out.

“And we all know how boring he is,” Brenda teases, smirking over the rim of her glass.

I laugh, nudging her arm. “He’s just… dedicated to his work.”

“Oh really? How’s the sex?”

I hesitate, taking a slow sip of wine. “It’s fine,”

Brenda’s sharp gaze cuts through me. “Evi…”

I set my glass down with a sigh. “He takes care of me in other ways,” I add, knowing how weak it sounds.

She raises an eyebrow. “He’s selfish.”

I shrug. “I can take care of myself.”

She doesn’t push, but her silence says enough.

The night fades into drunken warmth, and by the time I crawl into bed, I’m exhausted.

I wake too soon to the sound of Wes coming home. He’s loud—unnecessarily so.

“How was work?” I mumble, half-asleep.

“Busy,” he says flatly.

I barely register him climbing into bed and before I can react my panties are off.

There’s no hesitation, no foreplay—just Wes, pushing inside me, his thrusts fast and mechanical. I moan softly, clinging to the hope that this time will be different. That maybe, just once, he’ll make me feel something.

But, as always, he finishes quickly, pulling out just before I reach the edge.

He rolls off me without a word.

I sit up, running a hand through my hair.

"Can you throw this away?" Wes holds out the condom, his fingers dangling it inches from my face.

I glance at the trash bin right beside his side of the bed.

"Just toss it yourself," I mumble, climbing out of bed.

I head straight to the bathroom, desperate to scrub him off my skin.

The warm spray falls over me as I step in, and I close my eyes, letting a finger slide inside. Leaning against the wall, I sink to the shower floor, my lips pressed tightly together to stifle a moan.

It only takes a second to reach my orgasm, but the release is shallow and unfulfilling. Instead of easing the ache, it intensifies my yearning for genuine human touch, leaving me more frustrated and desperate than before.

I head downstairs to make myself some coffee.

The comforting smell of coffee fills the air as the mug slowly fills. I add milk and sugar before heading to the living room, mug in one hand, phone in the other.

I scroll through Facebook mindlessly until a familiar face stops me.

Julie. An old friend from Belgium. She’s posted an announcement—Tokio Hotel’s upcoming tour.

We used to go to every show together.

For a moment, I consider going to one of their shows in Germany, but I bite my lip and shake my head. No, that would be weird, wouldn't it?

The sound of a car pulling up outside snaps me out of my thoughts.

Curious, I peek through the window.

My stomach drops, when I see who gets out of the car.

Tom, looking different yet the same—older. His hair is a messy bun, a short beard. My pulse quickens as I rush to the door, flinging it open before I can stop myself.

"Tom?"

He smiles. "Hi, stranger."

We hug briefly, but I barely register it because behind him, another figure emerges.

Bill.

He steps out of the car, and my breath catches. He looks so grown up—his blond hair suits him, the faint beard adding a rugged edge.

“Hi,” he says softly. Hesitant.

We hug, awkward and uncertain. But when I pull away, my eyes catch the necklace around his neck.

My heart stutters.

Our matching necklace. The one with the letter 'E' on the pendant.

My hand instinctively goes to my bracelet. The necklace had broken, and I’d attached the pendant to a chain around my wrist instead.

When I look back up, our eyes lock, and for a second—just a second—it’s like nothing has changed.

I swallow hard. "What are you doing here?" I ask, turning to Tom.

"We have a tour coming up, so we came back to spend time with family," he explains. “And we bought a house.”

"You bought a house?" I blink, excitement bubbling. “Are you moving back?”

Tom shakes his head. “No. Just a place to stay when we visit.”

I nod, trying to mask my disappointment.

"And Leen?" I ask, forcing a smile.

“She’ll be here next week,” Tom replies. “She had some things to take care of first.”

A strange discomfort settles in my stomach. I fumble for an excuse. “I, uh… I have to go.”

Tom watches me. “We’re going to the club tonight. Georg and Gustav will be there too.”

I hesitate.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmur before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.

Leaning against the door, I exhale shakily and close my eyes for a moment. When I look down at my wrist, the sight of the bracelet makes my stomach flip. I can’t believe Bill is still wearing that necklace.

I run my fingers over my bracelet, my thoughts spinning.

I tiptoe upstairs, my breath shallow, not wanting to wake Wes.

My fingers hesitate on the doorknob before I push it open. My old room..

It’s exactly the way I left it. A time capsule.

I step inside, closing the door softly behind me. My gaze drifts to the pin-up board above my desk, cluttered with photographs frozen in time.

And there—right in the center—Bill and me.

Smiling. Carefree. Back when love felt infinite.

I swallow hard, my fingers grazing the edges of the picture. I could never take them down. It always felt like… if I erased them, I’d be erasing a piece of myself too.

A lump forms in my throat as I pull open a drawer and reach inside.

The zip-lock bag crinkles in my hands as I take it out, my fingers already trembling. Inside, carefully folded, is his hoodie.

It’s ridiculous how much care I’ve taken to keep it safe.

Slowly, I unzip the bag and pull the fabric free, pressing it to my face.

His scent, it’s faint—barely there after all these years—but it lingers, subtle and familiar, like a whisper against my skin. My stomach tightens, butterflies stirring, and for a fleeting moment, I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the illusion.

Forgetting reality. Forgetting Wes.

My hands tighten around the hoodie before I force myself to fold it back up, tucking it away as if hiding a secret.

Seeing Bill again stirred something deep inside me—something I have no business feeling. Not when I have a boyfriend. Not when I’ve spent so long convincing myself that part of my life was over.

But despite everything, despite all the time that’s passed… his eyes, his smile— they haven’t changed.

I grab my phone, my pulse hammering as I type out a message.

Evi: Maybe we should go to the club after all...

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

Before I can remind myself why this is a bad idea.