The cab ride home was a quiet one. Keira sat tucked into the corner of the back seat, one arm resting against the window, her thoughts a soft tangle of memories and resolve. The streets of the city rolled past, familiar and comforting in a way Jessie’s luxurious neighborhood never quite was. Seven days. That was how long she’d stayed in the Queen residence. Seven days of healing, laughter, and distractions.
Jessie had practically tried to barricade the door when Keira announced she was heading home.
“You should stay,” Jessie argued, hands on her hips, expression equal parts stubborn and worried. “You’re just going to end up tiring yourself again.”
“I promise I’m not cutting my vacation short,” Keira said gently. “I just need to be in my own space for a while. There are a few things I need to do for me.”
Jessie sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you better know you can come back any time. No questions, no formalities.”
Then, in true Jessie fashion, she grabbed a notepad, scribbled down the house passcode, and shoved it into Keira’s hand.
“1124. That’s the gate and door. Use it. Don’t even ask.”
Keira chuckled, trying to hand it back. “Jess—”
“No. I don’t accept no,” she said, smirking. “Now go before I find another reason to keep you hostage.”
Now, as Keira watched familiar sidewalks pass outside the cab window, she felt something shift in her chest. Jessie had helped her reset. But staying longer would only draw her closer to the ghosts she was trying to let go of—especially JC’s.
She had eight days left of her vacation. Eight days to choose herself again.
Back in her apartment, Keira dropped her bag by the door, took a deep breath, and exhaled into the quiet. No jazz music. No scent of lavender diffusers or fresh pastries. Just the scent of her own space—comfortably imperfect and familiar.
She grabbed the folded paper on her dresser—the list she and Jessie had made by the pool. Ten things she wanted to do during her time off.
The ink had smudged slightly on the edge, but the items were still clear.
1. Sleep all day.
2. Go shopping. (crossed out—thanks to Jessie)
3. Watch movies at home.
4. Watch a sunset/sunrise. (crossed out last night) 
5. Travel to different places.
6. Get a new haircut.
7. (blank)
8. (blank)
9. (blank)
10. (blank)
Item one came first. She let herself sleep like royalty—no alarms, no interruptions. The kind of sleep that reset bones and cleared fog from the mind. She stayed in bed for nearly a full twenty-four hours, only moving to grab snacks or sip water.
Item three followed right after. Wrapped in her softest blanket, she curled up on her couch and binged old favorites and new titles. She laughed, cried, and even clutched a throw pillow during one of the thriller plots. There was no one beside her to comment on the ridiculous plot twists, but it didn’t matter. It was hers. Her moment.
On the second day, she tackled item six.
Get a new haircut.
She hadn’t sat in a salon chair in months—too busy, too tired, too caught up in things that weren’t about her. But today was different. She walked into her favorite spot, greeted the stylist with a quiet smile, and simply said, “Chop it. Nothing crazy, just… make me feel light again.”
An hour later, she left with soft, shoulder-length waves that framed her face in a way that made her feel seen. Lighter. Freer.
Standing in front of her bathroom mirror that night, Keira gently ran her fingers through the layers. She smiled. It wasn’t just hair—it was shedding something. A past version of herself who always waited, always sacrificed.
Three days in, and items one, two, three, four, and six were now complete.
Her eyes fell on item five.
Travel to different places.
Keira sighed, tapping the pen against the page. Realistically, it wouldn’t happen—not with just five days left. Long travel meant planning, packing, adjusting. And after everything, she didn’t want to rush through a trip just to check a box.
She bit her lip and wrote beside it in parentheses: Next time. Somewhere special.
That left the final four blanks.
Unwritten. Undefined.
She knew they weren’t things like “buy a new pair of shoes” or “take a picture by the ocean.” No. These four were different. They were the things she hadn’t dared to voice yet. Dreams that felt too heavy, too unclear.
Maybe one of them would be: Figure out what’s next.
Maybe another: Learn to be happy on my own.
Or maybe she’d fill them when the moment was right. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday soon.
The night grew deeper as she curled up with a mug of tea, her hair tied back loosely, the city lights outside flickering through the curtains. The silence wasn’t so heavy anymore. It was the kind of quiet that held peace, not loneliness.
She still thought about JC sometimes—his eyes, his silences, the way he tried to protect her without letting her in too deep. But those memories didn’t ache as much now. Not here. Not when she was reclaiming her own narrative, one day at a time.
And though she didn’t plan to use Jessie’s passcode, having it folded neatly inside her drawer meant something. A reminder that she wasn’t alone, even when she chose to be.
Five days left.
Still time to breathe.
Still time to heal.
And maybe, time to figure out what the last four wishes truly were.