Archive of Our Own

"Next week we'll be studying intervals," Francesca reminded them as the bell rang. "And for those who chose piano, I want you to research a composer whose work resonates with you so we can discuss it next class."

The pre-teens left in a group after saying goodbye to Francesca, who had decided to watch them leave from the side of the door, smiling gently until she was the only one left in the vastness of the room. Francesca sighed and closed the door; she had a 20-minute break before she had to return to the staff room.

Francesca could have decided to be proactive and get ahead with the details of her next class, but she didn't feel like rereading music theory. Francesca took off her glasses and ran a hand over her face before opening her laptop again. Francesca wasn't on duty today, so she wouldn't be peeking into the hallways for any reason.

As she logged into her school email, Francesca felt her phone vibrate at the end of the table. Lazily picking it up to see what it was about.

11:03 am Colin: Are today's plans still on? 8:00 pm on Free Link, don't be late!!!

11:04 am Edwina: For a straight guy, you really like going to queer pubs, Colin!!!

11:05 am Penelope: Leave him alone, he's an ally!!

11:05 pm Colin: I have to support my sister and my friends <3 Fran!!! You're coming, right? You canceled on us last time.

Francesca considered canceling every time plans involved going out with her friends (and her brother), mainly because she wasn't a big fan of beer and staying up too late, but also because she couldn't stand the idea of sharing a casual outing with her ex-girlfriend.

Francesca almost always locked her phone when Michaela replied to messages in the group chat; it was the only message she could "allow" herself to receive from her. Her personal chat had stalled on a final message about the things Michaela had left in the apartment they shared for three years, which the woman "promised" to go and get when she had time. The box was there, sealed to one side of the door as if it were part of the now minimalist decor of the apartment.

Extremely minimalist because Michaela took the light and vibrant decor with her, not because she decided to eliminate everything before leaving. It was Francesca herself who decided to remove everything the day after Michaela moved out because she couldn't bear to be in an environment that reminded her of the woman, knowing that she was no longer part of her daily routine, knowing that with each passing day the memory of Michaela would fade a little more.

Francesca was constantly in front of the Google search engine while drinking a cup of lukewarm tea, wanting to know, week by week, how long it would take to fall out of love with Michaela, but the answers were so discouraging that every night she went to sleep with the same discomfort in her chest. There was no point in feeling this way, considering that she was the one who decided to end the relationship in the first place.

Group meetings had been suspended for a while after everyone learned of the breakup. Francesca was grateful that, at least publicly, no one took sides. Everyone focused on the general details of the strain, the exhaustion, and how their schedules had become more incompatible than ever. Michaela was very busy, preparing for a new technical certification, while Francesca was focusing on her work as an educator and her private lessons.

Two months ago, they had tried to rekindle their relationship, and Francesca forced herself to go. She wanted to show that she was doing well, moving forward, and finding a new rhythm in her life without Michaela. But the night was torture. Michaela looked as beautiful as ever, and the only time she managed to strike up a casual conversation, Francesca's tongue got tangled in her mouth, preventing her from even uttering the simplest words. It had been a night to forget. The only positive thing she could salvage was the fact that she had made Michaela laugh with her clumsiness.

By the third month, Francesca simply made up an excuse; she didn't want to make a fool of herself again, and if she saw Michaela again, Francesca would question her desire to have broken up with her. It was what they had both wanted deep down, only Francesca had been the one who had mustered enough courage to say it out loud. Francesca didn't want to overthink things again, and above all, she wanted to have the strength to move on.

11:11 am Francesca: I already confirmed my attendance, Colin, don't worry.

11:13 am Penelope: Great, Frannie!!! We have so much to talk about.

11:16 am Elizabeth: See you at 8:00 pm then, I hope Colin pays the bill!!

11:18 am Michaela: Well deserved for getting drunk last time, hahaha

That was the signal Francesca needed to lock her phone screen. Her heart was racing just reading her name, so she didn't quite know how to prepare herself to see her again in a more relaxed setting. They still followed each other on social media, but Francesca had muted her account and only logged in when she wanted to torture herself again with her own decision. Francesca knew Michaela was doing well, that she was still staying with Elizabeth and Edwina, that she was visiting her family in Scotland more often... She seemed to be moving forward better than the one who had decided to end the relationship.

"Francesca, do you have a minute?" Cindy, the math teacher, opened the door slightly and peeked her head in.

"Yes, go ahead." Francesca settled back in her chair, clearing her throat.

Cindy approached with a smile, holding a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. She leaned against Francesca's desk, placing the paper in front of her.

"As you know, the new citizenship teacher, Sloane, has been at school for two weeks now, and we wanted to give her a proper welcome," Cindy began, crossing her arms. "But a grown-up welcome, with drinks and snacks, so we were thinking of going to a pub tonight to get to know each other better. Want to join us?"

"That's a great idea, but I'm afraid I'll have to make it," she apologized, looking at Cindy. "I have a get-together with my friends that I can't cancel because I already canceled last month, so... You know."

"Oh, don't worry then, maybe another time," Cindy smiled playfully as she crossed her name off the list. "Wish me luck convincing Noah.”

"He's too fit to want to go to a pub and drink beer," she shrugged. Cindy laughed as she stood up.

Noah, the PE teacher, a biracial Welsh man, was truly focused on sports both in and out of school. It wouldn't be surprising if he was an enemy of alcohol and high-calorie snacks.

Cindy said goodbye, and Francesca leaned back in her chair. The bell would ring again, but she didn't have a class until the afternoon. The pianist considered checking Michaela's Instagram account again but dismissed the idea. She shouldn't. What she needed to do was concentrate on her work emails and prepare next week's classes. Francesca couldn't afford to be distracted by what Michaela meant to her at this point in her life.

After sixty minutes of questioning whether her calling was still intact, she headed to the staff room. Her day consisted of classes, tea, and reheated food. This time, she'd brought Mediterranean chicken wraps. Cindy sat down next to her again, celebrating that she'd convinced Noah to attend. Francesca didn't always keep up with the teachers' conversations; she preferred to eat in silence and simply listen. When the door opened again, Sloane entered—the reason for the pub meeting later.

"Hi girls, enjoy your meal," she said, approaching with a small smile, her lunchbox in hand. "How was your day? Let's just say it's challenging talking about politics with 12-year-olds.”

"It's challenging talking about anything with preteens," Cindy complained, and Francesca nodded in agreement. "But you get used to it... In fact, I already have the list for our meeting later; it'll be fun."

A brief chat about upcoming classes and some curious questions for Sloane about her decision to accept the transfer. The woman came from a private school, with an elitist education and unbearable parents by nature. Francesca listened silently. She knew the reality, but having been a student at that type of institution, her last name didn't go unnoticed. But Francesca never sought to be recognized for anything other than her own abilities.

Music theory was fun when the students paid attention. Francesca found herself wandering around the room, explaining concepts like rhythm, melody, harmony, and timbre while the preteens took notes and asked questions. Every time a student showed interest in the piano, she couldn't help but smile contentedly. It was her instrument, the one she had been playing since she was ten years old.

"Saved by the bell," she said as she was about to ask a general question. "Next week there will be a quiz on chords, so please study."

She slowly cleared her desk as the students said their goodbyes and left the room. Francesca had documents to put away, pencils to organize, and a laptop to shut down, but most importantly, a photo to look at in the top drawer of her desk.

The separation process had been so disastrous that the picture she had with Michaela on her desk hadn't disappeared; it was hidden in the top drawer, and almost as if it were torture, Francesca forced herself to look at it before returning to her apartment. She knew it was entirely optional, but after packing up all the couple photos with Michaela, that picture was the only tangible reminder of what they had been. Francesca wasn't about to rummage through the boxes looking for a fresher memory; She reserved her torture for when her day at school ended.

Before leaving, Francesca had a meeting and made adjustments to the weekly schedule. She said goodbye to her colleagues and wished them a good night at the pub and prepared to leave for the solitude of her apartment. Francesca still needed to shower and seriously consider what to wear; London was in that climatic limbo that always made her carry a coat everywhere.

Francesca took the bus and decided to sit upstairs, pulling out her headphones. If she was lucky, the journey would only take 20 minutes, but obviously, it depended on traffic. Francesca sat down at the back and put on a random playlist. Finsbury Park was a much noisier and busier area compared to the refined Stoke Newington where she had lived for years.

As soon as she reached her apartment door, Francesca sighed, opening it slowly. Like the last four months, she found only silence. Francesca left her keys on the console and then took off her scarf. She had a few minutes before she could think about what to wear, but before she could do anything else, Francesca felt her phone vibrate. It was Colin on her personal chat.

5:39 pm Colin: We're coming for you with Pen! We'll be outside your elegant Victorian house at 7:20 pm. Don't keep us waiting too long!

5:41 pm Francesca: ??? You literally live in Islington.

5:43 pm Colin: Correct, in a Georgian house.

5:45 pm Francesca: You're SO boring, I'm going to tell Penelope to divorce you.

Francesca put her phone down on the kitchen island and, even though she still had time, decided to check her options in her closet. Francesca took off her shoes and went into her room, glancing at the bed. It was perfectly made, with some pillows piled on top of each other and a blanket at the foot of the bed. Francesca shook her head and then focused on her closet.

She had to choose something that would make her feel comfortable but also prepare her for the imminent temperature change in London. After a few minutes looking at each hanger and discarding options, Francesca thought she had found what she needed to survive the night.

The routine at home since she lived on her own was quite quiet. Michaela was no longer there to complain about some server or rummage through the bathroom for something she'd lost for her hair care routine before bed. The space in the room had also grown considerably. As she looked at the still-open closet, she noticed again all the space that had belonged to Michaela and was now empty. What she had forgotten was stored in that box next to the door that Francesca didn't dare open.

A scarf hung alone on a hanger. Francesca looked at it every morning when she got ready for work, but she didn't dare touch it. It was a physical reminder that there had been a different life before this silence that now surrounded her.

She showered around 6:30 pm and, while getting dressed, felt the chill in the room. The get-together wasn't promising anything extraordinary, but she couldn't help feeling out of place since she and Michaela had broken up. Colin, her brother, was married to Penelope, her best friend, while Edwina and Elizabeth were a couple. It had always been about being a close-knit group that shared laughter and experiences, and now it was fractured because Francesca had decided that perhaps the best solution to the physical distance was to break up with Michaela.

Putting on makeup was simple in theory, although she didn't like spending much time on it. A little foundation, lipstick, and making sure her eyelashes looked good, and she was ready to be a passenger in Colin's car.

7:17 pm Colin: We're outside! Don't ignore us, Francesca.

Francesca rolled her eyes and decided not to reply. She grabbed her coat and purse and left the apartment, silently hoping for a quiet night.

In the car, she greeted Penelope and gave Colin a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Colin groaned dramatically before setting off. The traffic lights in London seemed to be conspiring against them, constantly stopping. Colin tapped a rhythm with his fingers on the steering wheel while Penelope controlled the music. Francesca simply stared out the window. It was easier to pretend she had nothing interesting to say than to admit out loud that the idea of seeing Michaela in person still terrified her.

When they arrived at the pub, Colin parked quickly while Penelope remarked that it was a miracle there was an empty space at that hour. As they got out, Francesca noticed the change in temperature. She clutched her coat tightly as they walked in. It was like walking straight into a death trap, but at that point, she had no choice. Francesca had to face it; she had to act as if nothing was wrong.

Upon entering, they spotted the women at a table against the wall. Edwina waved, and Francesca mentally prepared herself to move forward. Elizabeth stood up to greet them while Colin complained about the traffic. Francesca tried to look up but couldn't help but glance at Michaela. She looked radiant, having changed her hairstyle to box braids. She was wearing a denim jacket that Francesca recognized. When she stood up to greet her again, Francesca forgot to breathe.

Michaela was simply enchanting. Francesca had always felt lucky to have her by her side, to live with her, to share experiences, to create new memories. She felt lucky to love her, lucky to be loved by her. Michaela would enter a room and all eyes would turn to her. She was fun, she knew how to get along with new people, she knew how to carry on a conversation when there were no topics left to discuss, she made anyone sitting next to her laugh. She was everything Francesca struggled to be, and that's why their relationship was so special. They felt connected because of their differences, but also because of what they discovered they had in common.

"Hi Fran, chilly night in London, isn't it?" she greeted with a half-smile.

Francesca nodded slowly. She had to speak, Francesca had to respond with a joke, with something to lighten the mood, but nothing came to mind.

"Yes... Yes, like every night," she finally said, and Michaela nodded with a half-smile.

It was torture greeting her with a chaste kiss on the cheek, but she had to endure it. Francesca decided to sit next to Penelope and across from the girls, Edwina mentioning that they had arrived early in case the pub was more crowded than usual.

"By the way, next week there's an exhibition in Chelsea," Edwina announced, playing with her glass. "Expressionist concept. There will be some extremely wealthy people."

"The Bridgertons?" Elizabeth asked jokingly, and Colin chuckled.

"Do you have anything prepared for the exhibition?" Francesca asked, looking at her.

"Yes, although I'm not entirely convinced. It's like the line between Expressionism and Impressionism is very thin, and that doesn't work in an exhibition like this," she said, leaning back in her seat. "But I've already sold the piece, so I'll pretend it's my best work.”

“I’d love to go, but I have to cover a story in Birmingham,” Penelope said. “Actually, I’ll be back next Sunday. We want to write everything up before heading back to London.”

“Oh no. How will Colin survive that?” Michaela asked, and the girls laughed as Colin put his arm around Penelope, placing a kiss on her temple.

“I’m considering going with her. I’m sure I can take some nice photos while she works,” he replied with a smile as Penelope playfully nudged him.

The evening was passing peacefully. Francesca drank slowly, as her alcohol tolerance was practically nonexistent. At one point, her phone vibrated, and she decided to check it since the others were deep in argument about the best place to eat Italian food. After unlocking her phone, she found a message from Cindy.

8:53 pm Cindy: Hi Fran, what a coincidence!! We can see you from here.

Francesca frowned in confusion and slowly turned around in her seat. A few tables away, she saw her colleagues waving to her. Francesca let out a small, incredulous laugh and waved back before turning around again.

8:55 pm Francesca: Hahaha, London is tiny. I hope you have fun.

She put her phone away and focused on the conversation. Now Michaela was talking about work, system maintenance, and how she was now working in a hybrid format. Francesca almost choked on her beer listening to her. Michaela's job was demanding and challenging in equal measure. When things were bad and they didn't have much time together, Francesca often found herself thinking that she should make an effort, but it never occurred to her that it could have been a mutual effort, something they could discuss. If it was always an option for Michaela to have a more flexible schedule, then she hadn't thought about it clearly at the time. She had given in to the clash of routines, the silly arguments, and the idea that if they stayed together, they wouldn't be able to stand each other.

By the third round, Francesca found herself participating. She couldn't bear the sobriety of listening to Michaela's plans, of seeing her so fulfilled while she felt herself sinking into her own misery. She knew it was her fault; she had wanted the breakup, she had believed they would be better off apart, but the days had become so unbearable that she felt trapped in an endless loop of memories and bad decisions. Francesca had to move on and distance herself from Michaela, but things got difficult when she was right in front of her, laughing and sharing as if nothing had happened four months ago.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go somewhere extremely secret," Michaela announced, standing up and running a hand over her jacket. "If I'm a little late, it's because I'm touching up my makeup. Edwina, don't drink my beer."

"I'm not promising anything," she said, laughing as Elizabeth put her arm around her.

Francesca found herself staring at Michaela, so much so that Penelope gave her a gentle nudge. Turning around, she met the gaze of everyone at the table. Francesca sank into her seat; it was time for the awkward questions.

"People go back to their exes all the time," Colin said before eating a peanut. "You wouldn't be the first or the last, Francesca."

"You all don't understand," she simply said, looking at the contents of her glass. "She's... Happy, thriving, and all I remember is that in those last few months we were together, I'd never seen her so listless. I did her a favor."

"I don't think it works like that, Francesca," Elizabeth said, placing both elbows on the table. "I think you made assumptions about your relationship with Michaela, forced yourself to believe it, and then convinced yourself that you were doing the right thing."

"I did the right thing," she forced herself to say, even though she didn't believe it. “She's busy, without distractions, not thinking about how to fix a relationship, she's focusing on her future, on what she wants for her life... I was only going to hold her back.”

“You’re being unfair to yourself and to her,” Edwina said bluntly. “God knows we know you so well you could never admit you’re wrong out loud, but sometimes admitting things got out of hand is better than living in denial.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not talk about it now,” she simply said this time; she really didn’t want to be reminded of how wrong she was.

Penelope sighed beside her and nodded, changing the subject to how the publishing house van was so old she thought they might break down on the way to Birmingham. Elizabeth said it would make a good story, while Colin asked if she wanted any kind of roadside assistance. Edwina joked that a Bridgerton definitely didn’t know anything about car mechanics, and Francesca nodded in agreement.

A few minutes passed since Michaela got up from the table, and Francesca found herself staring at her empty place, her half-full glass, and the napkin she'd been using. She thought about how this had been her routine for the first month since Michaela had moved out: her observing the empty space at the table, her noticing that she no longer had to put two cups on the counter, her noticing how the bed now seemed bigger, with the space Michaela had occupied completely empty.

She found herself thinking about her friends' words, about how Colin had visited her the very day of the breakup, wanting to hear her side of the story but finding only silence. The ever-reserved Francesca had done it again; she had suppressed her feelings to feign a painful normalcy, to make those close to her believe that it was something "that was bound to happen" and that they had definitely "made the right decision, for both their sakes.”

She thought about how Michaela had accepted the decision without a word, but her eyes had welled up in a way Francesca had never seen before. She remembered how she had locked herself in the room for what seemed like hours, only to emerge with a half-packed suitcase and sunglasses despite the rain outside. Francesca hadn't even had the courage to watch her walk out the door, or to ask where she was going. She couldn't even follow her through the window just to see the route she would take. She was frozen in place, regretting her decision as soon as she realized the door had closed harder than usual.

"You're right," Francesca whispered, looking at the empty seat where Michaela had been sitting just minutes before.

"About what exactly? That Israel is an illegitimate terrorist state? We know that," Edwina said before taking a sip from her glass.

"No... Well, you're right about that too," she quickly corrected herself as she settled back into her seat.  "You're right about Michaela."

Penelope seemed to choke on a peanut, and Colin gave her a gentle pat on the back while looking at Francesca with a raised eyebrow.

"Good heavens," Elizabeth said, leaning slightly across the table, studying Francesca's expression. "Did you have an epiphany?"

"It just doesn't make any sense," she laughed a little in disbelief. "I can't keep living on autopilot, believing I'm a successful woman, believing I made the right decision when every morning I wake up and turn over in bed and find her place empty."

"Frannie... I think you should talk to her, you have to tell her this." Penelope gave her shoulder a loving squeeze, looking at her with a smile.

"Yes, I have to tell her," she nodded quickly, ready to get up.

"I should encourage you, Francesca, but a reconciliation would mean Michaela would move out of our apartment, and she's definitely the best cook in the house, so no, think about it," Edwina joked, laughing softly, and Elizabeth nudged her.

"Edwina Sharma, keep your mouth shut," the woman beside her warned.

"Am I lying? I think she slipped cocaine into the last lasagna we had. It was delicious."

"Well, yes, but that's not the point," Elizabeth complained, trying to remain serious. "The point is that Francesca realized that pride gets her nowhere and that it's good to recognize that sometimes we make bad decisions in the heat of the moment."

Francesca ran a hand down her sweater, trying to wipe away any traces of peanuts or crumbs, cleared her throat, and turned to look for Michaela. She was definitely taking her time with her makeup.

But she didn't even have to get close to the bathroom area; after moving a little further through the crowd, she found her (because Francesca could recognize her in a crowd of people). She was at the bar, laughing and talking animatedly with a woman, a woman who was directly facing away from Francesca, so her vision wasn't of much help, but it did serve to make her realize that the world kept turning and she was still losing spectacularly.

Francesca brought a hand to her neck, anxiously tracing her fingers from the base to the nape of her neck. She'd dared to step outside her comfort zone and had stumbled upon a terrifying scene that hadn't been part of her plan: Michaela enjoying herself with a stranger, laughing, drinking, and chatting as if she hadn't left the table where their mutual friends had been sitting more than ten minutes ago.

She wanted to move forward, she wanted to say something, but she knew she didn't have the right. Francesca knew she'd lost all emotional connection with Michaela the moment she'd decided to break up with her, but she couldn't help feeling this way, feeling like she was witnessing a betrayal, feeling like she was seeing something she couldn't bear, something that made her blood boil in a way that was almost unimaginable. She'd never been good at dealing with jealousy, she'd never been able to stand the idea of seeing Michaela with someone else. She'd even been jealous of the women who had been with her before. In her mind, in her ridiculous way of thinking, it wasn't possible that Michaela was moving on so quickly.

Francesca turned around before Michaela realized she was staring at her like a deranged stalker, walked over to the group table but not to sit down, just to announce that she would be stepping out for a moment.

"I'm going to take a smoke break," she almost stammered as she grabbed her coat, feeling her cheeks burn.

"What? Francesca, you don't smoke." Colin frowned, then looked at her. "Where's Michaela?"

"Busy. I need some air," she said this time, running a quick hand through her hair. She practically ran to the emergency exit, which actually led to the small terrace of the compound.

She inhaled deeply, exhaled just as sharply, feeling her pulse race. The idea that she might be having a panic attack seemed absurd, but at the end of the day, it was Michaela. Everything about her unsettled Francesca in a way that was hard to comprehend. She was lost, sinking to the lowest point, and still terribly in love with the woman she believed was the love of her life.

"Idiot," she laughed weakly, looking up. "Did you think she was going to wait for you? It's your fault, Francesca, it's your fault as always.”

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure it wasn't out of place.

"You don't deserve her, you never deserved her, and you let her go so she'd realize that... You did the right thing, you did the right thing."

She shook her head as she closed her eyes, her thoughts a jumble of emotions. She didn't need to feel this way, but it was the most logical reaction considering what she'd just seen.

She heard the door open and close behind her and prepared to leave. Someone probably wanted a smoke, but she almost tripped over her own feet when she saw Michaela.

"Hey, the girls said you seemed a little out of breath. Are you okay?" she asked with genuine interest, studying her face.

Michaela was small, so small that in the hugs they shared, Francesca could always kiss her forehead and completely cover her. Right now, Francesca was looking at her as if she were a hallucination of her troubled mind, and Michaela seemed to notice, frowning slightly.

"The beer went to my head, I think," she said slowly, testing the waters of her lie aloud.

"Yeah, probably. Your cheeks are red." She seemed to reach out her hand but stopped, smiling without showing her teeth. "Colin said you wanted a smoke break, and I thought it was funny. You're definitely terrible with excuses."

"Yeah, it was the first thing that came to mind," she replied simply, glancing at her sideways. "We should go inside. It's freezing in here."

"Yeah, we should," she replied, but her brow was still slightly furrowed. "Is it just the beer? You know you can tell me anything, Francesca.”

"I can't, Michaela, I can't tell you anything."

Her response was so quick that she forced herself to look away. Michaela looked more confused than ever.

"We don't have that kind of trust anymore, remember? We broke up," she added, trying to convince herself. Michaela remained silent for a few seconds.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to forget what it was like to be your friend before, Francesca," she said, crossing her arms and not looking at her.

"It's not something I exactly need to.”

"So what are you doing here?" Michaela whispered wearily, her eyes fixed on Francesca's. "What are you doing coming to these meetings? What are you doing sharing a beer with me? What are you doing staring at me when you think I'm not noticing? What are you trying to do, Francesca? Drive me crazy?"

"I don't... I don't see you more than necessary," she denied quickly, though she knew it was a lie.

"You do, and it's exhausting because you were the one who broke up with me." She raised her index finger and placed it dangerously close to Francesca's chest. "You were the one who decided this relationship wasn't worth it, you were the one who said we couldn't find time in our jobs to be together, not me, Francesca. Why are you acting like this? You should be happy to be single."

"You wanted it too!" she blurted out, trying not to cry.  "You wanted to break up with me too, but you didn't know how. I was just doing you a favor."

"I never wanted to break up with you! I wanted you to talk to me!" She shook her head repeatedly. Michaela didn't even try to hold back her tears. "I wanted to know what was going through your mind, why you were distant, why work was stressing you out, and all I found were walls. You pushed me away, and yet I kept trying because I didn't want to give up on you.”

Total silence for what seemed like minutes. Michaela stepped back to discreetly wipe away her tears while Francesca cleared the single tear that had escaped and trickled down her cheek.

"Michaela, we shouldn't... It doesn't matter anymore, what's done is done," she convinced herself to say aloud. Michaela's laughter at the bar with that woman was the trigger.

"Yeah, what's done is done. Let the broken stay broken, and this painful shit I feel in my chest every morning when I wake up, let it stay where it is, right? Everyone's happy."

"You're not the only one having a hard time!" She didn't want to say it, but she did. Her hands trembled as Michaela stared at her in disbelief.

"You're terrible at showing you care because if this is your way of telling me you still can't move on…”

"I'm going to move on even if it costs me my life. I'm going to move forward, and you should do the same. I know you can do it. I saw you a little while ago with a woman, laughing and drinking. I know it won't be hard for you to forget me. You'll definitely have a lot of luck with that."

Michaela let out a humorless little laugh and shook her head. Francesca had said too much again.

"You know what?" she asked, but it seemed like she was talking aloud; she wasn't even looking at Francesca. "You're right. I should move on, let myself be loved by someone else, give that woman my number because, surprise, I hadn't given it to her because deep down I was thinking about you... What an idiot, right? Poor Michaela, who thought her ex-girlfriend still had feelings for her.”

"And I feel it much more intensely than before," Francesca found herself thinking, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, negative thoughts clustered together: She'll be better off single, she'll be better off with another woman, she'll be better off far away.

"You should go out with her," she said quietly, crossing her arms.

Michaela stared at her, another tear rolling down her cheek. She nodded slowly as Francesca watched her intently, trying to make sense of her lie, trying to believe that sending Michaela into another woman's arms was the best decision in the world... She couldn't bear it. She felt an unbearable heat coursing through her body, but she couldn't hold on to it, she couldn't hurt her like she had before. She had to walk away, she had to learn to live with her decision.

"Oh... I see," she chuckled weakly again, wiping her cheeks. "I hope you're happy, Francesca, incredibly happy, because I won't be torturing myself over what happened four months ago anymore."

Before Francesca could reach out to stop her, Michaela had already slipped out the door. Instead, she tucked both hands into her coat and leaned against the railing. In the silence of that place, she allowed herself to cry, to let out the same tears she hadn't wanted to show Michaela, because if she had, Michaela would have quickly realized that everything Francesca had said was nothing but lies, the stupidest and most ridiculous lies ever told.

By Monday her mood hadn't improved much; she was in the staff room with an almost iced coffee because she hadn't been able to sleep well since Friday night when she returned home asking Colin and Penelope not to ask her questions she wasn't ready to answer. Instead, she let herself be enveloped in the familiar silence of her routine, with no desire to play the piano, no desire to organize the classes. Monday morning had been simple improvisation and a dynamic on musical recognition; the students participated actively while she sank into her own misery, but at least, just at least, she managed to smile to pretend that everything was alright.

"I have to admit, it was a fun Friday," Noah said as he sat down next to Francesca with a granola bar. "How was your night, Francesca?"

"Good, okay. The beer was good, the snacks too," she replied automatically, casually tossing her salad. "Did you drink a lot of beer?"

"No, just two glasses," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Sloane had a great time."

"I missed it!" Cindy exclaimed, arriving with her own mug and plopping down in front of them, ruffling her long black hair. "I heard she met someone, but it all happened when I went to the bathroom. Some girls needed help with their makeup, so I took longer than expected. I don't know who the mystery girl is or when she met her."

"An informal welcome and meeting a girl—double the fun, right?" Francesca joked absentmindedly.

Sloane appeared with folders and a smile so radiant Francesca thought it would blind her. She sat next to Cindy and began reading a document, but the attempt didn't last long when she noticed everyone staring at her.

"What?" she asked, giggling, and Cindy rolled her eyes.

"We want details, Sloane," she stated as if it were a matter of utmost urgency. Francesca continued eating slowly.

"About what exactly?" she asked, feigning indifference. Noah laughed, crossing his arms.

"The girl at the bar," she remembered, and Francesca straightened her posture, looking at her colleague. "Let's talk about how you went for more shots and stayed at the bar with that woman for a while. What was her name?”

Francesca stopped looking at him, frowning as she tried to remember. On Friday, she hadn't been able to see the stranger. The distance, the pub's colorful lights, and the fact that she'd had her back completely to Francesca had hampered her mission to try and get a glimpse of a face, to try and meet the woman who was stealing Michaela's attention... But no, it couldn't be. The bar was big, there were many queer women, and it definitely couldn't have been Michaela.

Sloane leaned back in her chair, placing the document on the table, and sighed as if she were about to reveal the name of her teenage crush. Francesca tightened her grip on her fork, feeling suddenly nervous.

"Michaela," she finally said, and Francesca felt like she was going to faint.

Cindy, who was drinking her coffee, seemed to choke. As she recovered, she glanced at Francesca, who stood motionless in her seat. Her hand had dropped her fork, and her appetite, which had been minimal before, had now completely vanished.

"Michaela? What a coincidence," Cindy laughed nervously. She was probably the only one who had taken the time to look at the picture Francesca had kept on her desk for three years.

Noah didn't know about Michaela; there was no reason for him to be hanging around Francesca's classroom, and she wasn't one to talk about her private life... But she had photos, couple photos, photos she hadn't deleted, photos that hadn't been archived, so it seemed crazy to her that the man hadn't recognized her, although from that distance and with the lighting, it was possible he hadn't noticed.

"Why? Do you know a lot of Michaelas?" Sloane asked good-naturedly, and Francesca shook her head almost imperceptibly in Cindy's direction.

The woman seemed to understand and shook her head with a strained smile, saying it was a very pretty name. For the next ten minutes, Francesca had to remain silent while Sloane talked about Michaela, repeating things she already knew by heart, listening to compliments she'd already given, hearing the longing to see her again—the same longing she'd felt since that ridiculous decision to push her away. Francesca was holding back, but Cindy glanced at her every few seconds, perhaps trying to find a genuine reaction behind that mask of indifference.

"I honestly didn't think anything would come of it because she was a little distracted at first," Sloane said. "But then I saw her again at the bar, and she gave me her number."

"That means you're going to see her soon, right?" Noah asked, and Francesca swallowed hard.

“I texted her this morning, just casually, so if things go well, I’ll ask her out soon,” she replied, smiling.

Sloane smiled as if she hadn’t completely turned Francesca’s world upside down. Francesca, meanwhile, had decided to simply stare at her salad as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.

Coincidence had been incredibly cruel, but unfortunately, she couldn’t complain. Now she had to sit and listen as the new teacher talked about her ex-girlfriend as if she’d painted the stars in the sky on a cloudy night.

When she finally left the room to go to her classroom, she heard Cindy's hurried footsteps. Francesca didn't turn around, but when Cindy was beside her, she realized she looked worried.

"Francesca... I really had no idea," she began, walking beside her. "Aren't you going to say anything to Sloane? I don't think it's nice to know your colleague is flirting with your ex-girlfriend."

"I don't think it's my business," she replied after a few seconds of silence. "Michaela is free, Sloane is free, they can do whatever they want."

Cindy let out a slow sigh before running a hand through her hair.

"Aren't you going to mention she's your ex-girlfriend? She'll inevitably find out, well, if things progress with Michaela.”

"If that's the case, then I suppose Michaela will have to tell her, right?" she replied, clutching her purse to her chest. "I'd rather stay out of it."

By Wednesday, Francesca found herself analyzing Sloane's every microexpression when she ran into her in the staff room. If she saw her smile at her phone, she assumed it was Michaela talking to her. If she saw her pause to answer a call, she assumed it was Michaela making her phone ring. If she seemed more animated than usual, she assumed it was because she had spoken with Michaela the night before.

Francesca wanted to say that she had had that privilege, but not through a screen, rather by feeling the warmth of her body next to her every night.

By Friday, Francesca returned to her apartment on autopilot, took off her shoes and coat, and practically ran to the bedroom, opening the closet with a certain desperation to find something that would remind her, something that would give meaning to the heaviness in her chest.

She took Michaela's scarf and inhaled deeply. It was the first time she had touched it in four months, but now she desperately needed that closeness. She could still smell traces of her soft perfume; Francesca could almost remember how it looked around her neck, how she used to arrange it when Michaela seemed very busy in front of her laptop, taking the opportunity to leave a quick kiss on her temple, absentmindedly reminding her that she loved her.

And she loved her, terribly, painfully, so much so that there was no point in staying away from her, no point in believing that Michaela was better off without her. The tears she had seen last Friday weren't lying, and she didn't have the strength to maintain her own lie of security and independence either.

3:38 pm Francesca: Hi Melina. Remember that time you told me I could ask you anything? Well, I have an important question right now, and I know you can help me.

Melina was the school therapist who, during the first month of the breakup, saw Francesca so unfocused that she sincerely told her she could count on her for anything she needed. Francesca wanted to move on alone, but at that point, she felt more lost than ever. She didn't want to deny the genuine help of those around her.

3:43 pm Melina: Hi Fran! Of course, tell me, what's this about?

 Francesca found herself sending long paragraphs of context, allowing her to share with someone else what she had been feeling since she decided to break up with Michaela. Not even Penelope had had the full picture of the situation, so she was taking a big leap out of the comfort of her own silence to express (even if it was through messages) how she was really feeling.

Melina quickly asked Francesca if she regretted the breakup out of genuine love or loneliness. Francesca didn't hesitate; she loved Michaela, and she had always been good at handling loneliness—she wasn't afraid of it at all. Melina then asked her to reflect on the real reasons for the breakup. Was she looking for an escape? Had she grown tired of the routine? Was she in love but unsure how to maintain a consistent relationship? Francesca believed the problems had started because of her. She spent a lot of time at school, and they hardly saw each other. But Michaela was also becoming increasingly busy, and if the scales had to be tipped, her side would tip much more heavily than Michaela's.

Melina asked her to identify changes, because if she wanted to get back with Michaela, she needed to know what she would change to make the relationship work this time. Francesca knew she had to be more communicative, that she shouldn't assume Michaela understood the situation, much less believe that Michaela was aware of everything that was happening. Verbalizing her emotions, her fears, everything that worried her was a way to show Michaela that she loved her and trusted her.

4:06 pm Francesca: I don't think I've taken the time to analyze all this... Thanks, Mel, I have much more mental clarity than before.

4:09 pm Melina: That's what colleagues are for!! Are you going to do something about Sloane's situation? If it keeps escalating, someone else will get hurt who definitely doesn't deserve to be caught in the middle.

4:11 pm Francesca: Yes, I have to take care of that, although I need to think about how to do it... Thanks, Melina, enjoy your weekend.

Francesca took a quick shower and got ready because she had to meet up with her friends again, this time for Kate's birthday. Kate, Edwina's sister, was coincidentally married to her older brother, Anthony. It was another chance to see Michaela, and this time she wasn't terrified. She felt ready to take a new step and try to talk things out honestly, without hiding again.

Edwina and Elizabeth, like Anthony and Kate, lived south in East Dulwich, a journey that took Francesca almost an hour by car or public transport. Colin would be driving her again. Francesca knew how to drive, but she didn't know how to parallel park. Every time Michaela tried to teach her, they both ended up laughing because Francesca took forever to put the car in reverse and then complained that it would be impossible to park in London with all the cars on the streets.

The private parking lot was empty. Michaela had taken her Volkswagen ID.3 two days after leaving home. Francesca used to joke, when she rode in the passenger seat, that it was a "miniature car for a miniature woman," prompting Michaela to complain and repeat over and over that she was of average height and that Francesca was the one who was out of the ordinary because of her extra inches.

When she was ready in front of the mirror, she let her hair fall loose, applied a touch of crimson lipstick, and sighed, mentally preparing herself for the evening on the other side of town.

Getting into Colin's car was quieter than usual. Her brother glanced at her in the rearview mirror as Penelope gently turned in her seat. She had finally given them the full story about what had happened with Michaela on Friday night. She hadn't asked for advice; she just wanted to vent.

"Wait, weren't you supposed to be in Birmingham?" Francesca asked, confused.

"The trip was canceled until further notice. The publisher's van had a mechanical problem," Penelope chuckled.

Francesca giggled and settled back in her seat, focusing on the city lights.

“I don’t want to pressure you, Fran,” Colin said at a red light. “But I think you should talk to Michaela today. I don’t think you can handle your colleague continuing… You know, wanting to get to know her.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, feigning confusion as she fidgeted with her fingers in her lap.

“That you’re going to have a meltdown if Michaela and your colleague actually start dating,” Penelope replied, as if it were obvious. Colin chuckled. “You’re good at bottling up all your feelings except jealousy, my friend.”

“She never knew how to,” Colin chimed in. “When we were kids and she started getting interested in the piano, Mom wanted us to at least get to know the instrument, so she’d sit us on the bench to play the keys, but Francesca would watch us from the nearby sofa with her brows so furrowed we thought she was going to kill us with her gaze.”

“Very protective of what you love, we know, Fran,” Penelope laughed, glancing at her sideways.

When they arrived at the family home, they realized that almost everyone was already there. There was a huge cake in the living room, and Kate greeted them with kisses and hugs. Francesca gave her her gift and let herself be hugged again. Soon she went to greet her brother, who was holding their youngest son, Miles. Their mother was in a corner chatting with Eloise, her older sister, while they kept a close eye on the couple's eldest son, Edmund.

"Hey, little sister," Anthony said, smiling playfully as he jokingly handed Miles to Francesca. Francesca laughed and shook her head. "Have you been okay?"

"I've survived another week in the London school system," she replied simply. Miles held out his hand, and Francesca let him take her index finger. "Hey, buddy. How have you been behaving at nursery?"

"He's the most charming of them all. I remember how worried I was about sending him off the first day, and now he practically wakes up before Edmund. He's so excited to be with other children," Anthony replied, smiling before placing a kiss on Miles's cheek.

Edwina appeared in the living room complaining that the wine was gone. Kate approached, frowning, saying she'd given her a whole bottle, but Edwina laughed, mentioning they were playing "Never Have I Ever" in the garden. Kate rolled her eyes and handed her a new bottle, then asked her not to get drunk.

"Elo, Mom," Francesca greeted them, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek. "And Edmund, you look so handsome today."

She ruffled her eldest nephew's hair, who complained, before showing him his new dinosaur, explaining that it practically lived in his backpack now because he took it to school every day. Francesca listened attentively, crouching down to his level and stroking his shoulders.

She knew from Edwina that the girls were in the garden. She wanted to join them, but didn't want to do so without an excuse. She approached Kate and asked if there were any snacks outside. Kate said yes, so Francesca nodded and slowly made her way over, mentally rehearsing what she would say once she saw Michaela again.

She opened the French doors and stepped out into the treacherous London spring air. Half-full glasses greeted her, along with the laughter of the women who had been living with Michaela for four months.

"Hi, girls," she greeted them in her most casual tone.  “Kate asks if you need more snacks.”

Michaela glanced at her out of the corner of her eye but quickly focused on the interesting contents of her glass. Elizabeth stretched her arms slightly, observing the nearly empty plates. Edwina stood up, seeming to understand that Francesca wasn't exactly interested in refilling her snacks, so with a quick gesture she greeted Francesca and then pulled Elizabeth's hand away, leaving them alone outside the house.

Francesca hesitated for a few seconds but finally sat down in Elizabeth's place, next to Michaela, who, seeing that she practically couldn't escape, settled into the chair, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry about last Friday," Francesca began, trying to hold her gaze. "I'm sorry for what I said and how I said it... I feel like every time I try to move forward with you, I'm the one sabotaging the process."

"That's quite a realization, Francesca," Michaela said, looking at her. "I assume this conversation has something to do with Sloane, right?"

Francesca swallowed hard; they were probably in that stage of "casual conversation" where they had told each other about their professions and the places where they worked, Michaela recognizing the educational center where Francesca had been working as a teacher and piano instructor for years.

“Yes… I… I didn’t tell her that, well, we’re ex-girlfriends,” Francesca replied. “She was so happy on Monday, talking about you, about how wonderful you are, that I didn’t want to tell her that… Well, we have a history.”

“For any specific reason, or did you just empathize with your colleague’s feelings?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because back then, a small part of me, the tiniest part, still thought it was a good idea to let you go so you could go into someone else’s arms,” she said honestly. “And the days went by, I saw her happier, I saw her laugh, I saw her glued to her phone, and all I could think about was that you were behind it all, making someone else happy despite the distance.”

Michaela sighed and ran a hand over her forehead, her posture still somewhat rigid.

"We've been talking regularly all week. By now I know her cat's name, who her first celebrity crush was, and whether she plans to get married in the future," she said, and Francesca nodded, gently squeezing the hem of her sweater. "Do you want me to tell her we were a couple? I imagine it must be awkward to hear her talking about me during work hours.”

"It's just awkward that she keeps repeating things I already know," Francesca said with a sigh. "It's awkward knowing that someone else is longing for a message from you, something I've wanted for the last four months."

"Don't be unfair to me, Francesca."

"No, I'm not here to blame you, I just want you to know that... It's not easy," she said, looking at her intently. "I thought I was doing something good. I saw you were exhausted, I saw you were busy with work, I thought we both wanted the same thing, but I didn't stop to ask you what was going through your mind."

"Communication isn't your strong suit. I guess I should have seen it coming," she said after a few seconds, simply looking at her.

Francesca nodded. She wasn't going to deny that opening up was difficult, but after three years of sharing everything with Michaela, she should have made an effort to tell her what was on her mind.

"Michaela, I..."

"I love you deeply. I want to be with you again. I want you to give me a chance to show you that I can truly listen and be heard, that I want to be better just to deserve you." She thought carefully, the words dancing in her mind, descending to her tongue, but no sound escaped her.

Instead, Michaela nodded with a sad smile, as if she had expected something like this to happen. She stood up slowly, clearing her throat, and said nothing as she walked back inside.

Francesca leaned back in her chair and let out a groan of extreme frustration. She couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Michaela again, but at that point, her own mind was acting as her mortal enemy.

They gathered to celebrate Kate, with the woman in the middle, surrounded by her family. Francesca was distracted looking at Michaela, who now had Miles in her arms while gently rocking him to the rhythm of the music. The infant was laughing and enjoying the light of the candles surrounding the cake. Francesca sighed in defeat; she was surrounded by the most important people in her life, but she still felt an unbearable emptiness in her heart.

By Wednesday afternoon, the London sky had decided to break into a torrential downpour. Spring was proving rather elusive that year, and as Francesca put on her raincoat, she noticed a familiar figure standing in the covered area of the front patio.

She approached hesitantly. She might have been mistaking her for someone else in the dim light, but then again, Francesca could recognize Michaela even in a crowded place. The rain had been falling steadily for several minutes, and Michaela looked completely dry, observing the intensity of the weather with her arms crossed.

"Hi, Michaela," she ventured when she was close enough.

The engineer jumped and turned so quickly that Francesca almost let out a nervous giggle.

"Hey, Francesca," she said simply. "The day started promisingly, didn't it? And now it looks like we're going to disintegrate if we take a step into the rain.”

She noticed Michaela was simply wearing a jacket without a hat. She wondered if she had any kind of hair protection in the bag slung over her shoulder, considering the special care her hair required. She frowned slightly at the thought; Michaela didn't usually neglect such important things.

"Are you waiting for Sloane?" she ventured to ask after a few seconds of silence.

Michaela nodded without looking at her, and Francesca swallowed hard. She should have expected it, but the confirmation felt just as painful.

"Bad day for a date at a Taiwanese restaurant," she said quietly. Francesca tightened her bag strap. "But I guess the weather is unpredictable anyway."

"Yeah, it's... It's almost always raining. Cold, windy, and gloomy," she added distractedly. Michaela finally looked at her.

They stared at each other, neither of them quite sure how to continue the conversation, and Sloane was nowhere to be seen. Francesca took an almost imperceptible step, and Michaela approached as well, seemingly intently studying the pianist's expression, trying to find something telling, something that would give her a reason... Just one reason not to go with Sloane.

"Francesca, I..."

"Michaela, please don't go..."

They said at the same time as the sound of rain mingled with someone's hurried footsteps. They both turned to find Sloane approaching, rubbing her arms.

"The London weather never ceases to amaze me," she said once she was close enough. "I thought I had my umbrella in the staff room, but I looked everywhere and couldn't find it."

She placed a quick kiss on Michaela's cheek and then smiled at Francesca, who was still gripping her bag strap tightly.

"Do you fancy a monumental run to my car? We might get a little wet," Sloane suggested, Francesca noticing she was also wearing a jacket without an attached hood.

Michaela looked at her, not entirely convinced, then watched as the rain continued to pour down. Francesca could say goodbye and head off to catch the bus, but her feet wouldn't move, and her mouth definitely wasn't ready to say goodbye.

"Yeah, well, we'll probably get soaked, the weather's awful," she said, delaying the decision. Francesca swallowed hard.

She shouldn't interfere, she thought. It definitely wasn't her business. Francesca should act as if whatever was about to happen didn't matter to her at all, but she couldn't hold back, not when it came to Michaela.

"Michaela, you can't walk in the rain," she said firmly. Sloane turned to face her. "Neither of you has an umbrella, and I assume you don't have a rain hat in your bag, let alone a silk scarf.”

"Francesca, it's not that big of a deal. I'll just pull my jacket up a bit or use my bag to cover up."

Francesca knew she was lying just to avoid upsetting Sloane, but she'd already started talking and was eager to keep going.

"It's not the same, and if you get your hair wet, the extra weight will make you uncomfortable the whole... The whole date," she added, putting down her bag and unzipping her own hooded raincoat. "Here, use mine. I don't want you to neglect your hair or get sick."

Sloane watched everything with extreme confusion, but above all, she felt out of place. She glanced briefly at Francesca, who was already holding out her raincoat toward Michaela, and at Michaela, whose eyes seemed to glow with something she couldn't quite place.

"Do you know each other?" she asked the obvious when she saw Michaela slowly accept the raincoat.

Francesca swallowed, feeling the cool, damp breeze. She slung her bag over her shoulder after putting on Michaela's jacket; it smelled wonderfully like her. The sleeves were too short, but she didn't mind. She felt her stomach flutter at the touch, like a thousand butterflies fluttering inside her.

"Yes, we've known each other for years," Michaela said as she zipped up the raincoat, Francesca noticing how it covered her hands and a larger portion of her thighs.

Sloane seemed about to speak, but she reached into her pocket, searching for something. She repeated the gesture on her jacket, then made a face, and finally mentioned that she'd left her phone in the staff room. With one last confused look, she left them alone again.

"Francesca, don't interfere," she whispered when Sloane was out of sight. "You have no right to worry about me."

"She should make an effort to get to know you," she said without looking down. "If she intends to date a Black woman, the least she should know is how important hair care is. A monumental run in the rain? Michaela, you wouldn't have lasted five minutes with hair that heavy."

"Don't act like this, Francesca!" she demanded, exasperated. "Nothing that has to do with me is your business. You wanted it that way. Sloane can learn, like anyone else. I can teach her if necessary."

"You shouldn't," she shook her head, Michaela huffed in annoyance. "She should have done her research. If she's so interested in you, she should be concerned about that. You shouldn't be the one teaching her.”

Michaela looked at her without saying anything, but she didn't move away either. Francesca didn't want the conversation to die there, so she cleared her throat before continuing.

"I did it, Michaela, even when we were just friends," she said, mentioning something Michaela knew by heart. "The first time you stayed at my apartment, I... I'd already bought everything you needed to be comfortable... I'm not trying to get your thanks for something so basic, it's just... It was my way of letting you know that I care about you, that I've always wanted you to be okay, that we're the ones who have to do everything we can to make you feel welcome. I've never wanted you to be the one who adapts, and it shouldn't be any different now."

"Would you be telling me this if Sloane wasn't part of the equation?" she asked after a few seconds, simply looking at her.

"Yes, because I was going to tell you that night at the pub," she finally confessed. "I came looking for you. I got up to tell you the truth, but I found you at the bar and... I didn't want to interrupt."

"What?" she asked, frowning. Sloane was really taking her time finding something as small as a phone. "You pushed me away when I came for you! And now you expect me to believe you were ready to be honest?”

"Well, I had a plan, although I admit it wasn't very well thought out." Francesca tugged at her sweater, feeling nervous. "I wanted to tell you that... I was confused, and I was deeply sorry for hurting you with my decision."

"Good heavens, Francesca," she groaned, running both hands over her face. She had to leave, she really had to escape now, but she didn't want to waste a single second away from Michaela. "You're so unfair, so unfair, to yourself and... And to me."

"I know, believe me, I know," she let out a nervous giggle before sighing, shoving her hands into Michaela's jacket pockets. "Sloane seems like a nice woman, but... I don't think she's the right one for you."

"Yes, because my ex's opinion is pretty strong when deciding something like that," she complained, but Francesca noticed her tone softened.

"Take it as advice from an old friend." She shrugged, taking a step back. "See you, Michaela, enjoy your date.”

She walked away quickly, not wanting to see Sloane again, who would surely be eager to ask questions she wasn't ready to answer. She practically ran along the wet sidewalks to her bus stop. As she boarded, she felt the change in temperature and the excessive dampness in her hair.

The ride back to her apartment was so long because of the weather that she almost fell asleep against the window, her mind replaying everything she had said to Michaela, remembering her eyes, her surprised expression, her furrowed brow, and the way her hands moved in exasperation. She didn't want to play with her or torture her; she had simply found a moment to be honest in an incredibly uncomfortable situation for both of them.

As she dried her hair with a towel after a quick shower, she placed her phone on the coffee table. The rain was still pouring, but she wanted to... Check that everything was okay with Michaela. She logged into her Instagram profile, looking for a story, a new photo, a tag that indicated she was having fun on her date with Sloane. Finding nothing, she decided to check Sloane's profile, again finding nothing relevant. She sighed and got up to make herself some tea. She had nothing better to do on a rainy Wednesday than follow her ex-girlfriend's digital trail.

When she returned with the cup, she noticed a new message, her heart racing at the sight of Michaela's name.

6:49 pm Michaela: Your strange and sudden desire to worry about me is making this the most awkward date ever.

6:50 pm Francesca: I assume you told her we're ex-girlfriends...

6:51 pm Michaela: Ding ding, we have a genius!!! Good heavens, why do I have to talk about you when I'm supposed to be seeing someone else? It's your fault!

6:52 pm Francesca: And the date is being sooo boring that you decided talking to me was more fun.

Michaela appeared typing, then disappeared from the connection. Francesca complained aloud, deciding to type again.

6:55 pm Francesca: No, wait, come back and talk to me.

6:57 pm Michaela: No, I'm considering muting your chat and pretending you don't exist. Let me focus on my date.

6:58 pm Francesca: Don't focus on your date and talk to me. Pretend Sloane is part of the decor.

The lack of response prompted Francesca to type again with a half-smile.

7:00 pm Francesca: I know that made you chuckle a little.

7:01 pm Michaela: You have no way of proving it, Bridgerton.

7:03 pm Francesca: No, actually, I can perfectly imagine it: You saw my message, you looked up, squinted, and smiled without showing your teeth, and right there... You laughed. Knowing that would make me proud because, as you know, I'm not exactly a comedian.

7:05 pm Michaela: Francesca... Don't say that. Don't say things to show you still know me.

7:07 pm Francesca: Because I still know you! I've loved you for so long that I think I know all your mannerisms by heart. You could have your back to me, and I'd know exactly how you'd react to a message, a joke, or a comment.

7:09 pm Michaela: Goodbye, Francesca! Dessert is about to arrive.

7:11 pm Francesca: Enjoy it, Michaela, but think of me. Despite everything Sloane might say, think of me.

Francesca locked her phone screen and turned it over, deciding to focus on her tea. When she finally stood up, she felt the need to check it again. She found a new story from Michaela, the camera focused on a slice of cheesecake, nothing more than that. There was no tag, nor any mention of their amazing date. Francesca suddenly felt guilty. Had she crossed a new line? She didn't want to sabotage Michaela's happiness, she didn't want to blame herself again for an inappropriate attitude, but she couldn't help it. She knew Michaela was just trying to move on, but she couldn't, not until Francesca was honest with her.

On Thursday, Francesca decided to feign indifference when Sloane entered the staff room. The pianist had finished organizing her scores and tried to leave as quickly as possible, but Sloane stopped her with a swift gesture.

"Why did you break up with her?" she asked, as if it were none of her business. Francesca raised an eyebrow.

 "With all due respect, Sloane, I don't think I owe you any explanations."

"I'm asking because I don't think it's fair that you broke up with her and now that she's getting to know me, you want her back." She crossed her arms, still looking at her.

Francesca let out a disbelieving little laugh, shaking her head.

"What do you know, Sloane?" she asked without moving closer. "I've wanted to apologize to her since the first day we separated. I don't think you should assume things you don't know."

"But you waited for someone else to show interest in her before you came back... That's what's unfair," she muttered, frowning slightly.

"Sloane... This is really a private matter that I'd rather not discuss here. If you have something to say to me about Michaela, then wait until the end of the day, okay?"

"You do know she still loves you, don't you?" she asked when Francesca turned away. "I don't intend to be the one to pull someone else out, but if she wants to have some fun, who am I to stop her?”

"Who do you think you're talking about?" she asked, turning and taking a few steps forward. Sloane didn't move away. "You don't know her. You don't know what she wants or what she desires for her life. If you want to get a reaction from me, you'll get it if you talk about her like that again."

"Relax, Francesca. I just wanted to check something." She shrugged as she walked slowly away without turning around. "Have a good day."

Francesca decided to leave the morning's tension outside her classroom. Once the first class began, she focused on being the teacher her students needed, but as soon as she had the freedom of recess, she slumped down on her desk, massaging her temples.

11:05 am Francesca: Would you be honest with me? If I ask you something extremely personal, would you tell me the truth?

11:07 am Edwina: Hellooooooooooooo, you know I'm a specialist in telling the truth, shoot, Bridgerton.

11:09 am Francesca: Should I let Michaela go ahead with Sloane? I mean... Should I step aside, decide not to tell the truth about how I feel?

Edwina appeared, typing for a few seconds, and Francesca waited patiently. She didn't text Elizabeth because she knew that even though the lawyer was Michaela's best friend, she was the one most likely to be busy at that moment, and Francesca needed an answer soon.

11:13 am Edwina: Have you completely lost your mind? Of course you shouldn't!!! I've been waiting for this moment since I learned of her existence. In fact, I prepared a presentation about why they wouldn't be a good match (Elizabeth wants me to delete it from my laptop, but I have no intention of doing that). Francesca, please, for the love of God, don't give up.

11:14 am Edwina: You two are so weird. In fact, when I found out you were dating, I was like, "What the hell?" I thought you wouldn't last a month, and you pleasantly surprised me. You're probably the most wonderful couple (after Liz and me), and I know you still have so much more to experience and learn from each other. I'm not going to judge your decision to break up because I don't know what was going through your head, but if you want to make amends, if you want to show Michaela that you're committed to her, that you want a reconciliation... Then this is the time.

11:16 am Edwina: Actually... Count on me for anything you need. Do you want me to accidentally lock you in a closet with her? I'll do it! Do you want to come to our apartment to talk more privately? Then we'll go out all day with Liz if necessary! I don't know why you think you have to do things alone, but we can help you, Francesca. We've always wanted to help you.

Francesca let out a long sigh, feeling relieved by Edwina's messages. If she wanted to move forward with the situation, she needed at least one confidante, and Edwina, living with Michaela, was the one most aware of the situation, along with Elizabeth.

11:19 am Francesca: Thanks... Actually, I think I needed a slightly more forceful push to work up the courage, and Yes!! I think there's something we can do that will surely allow me to at least be alone with Michaela.

On Friday morning, Francesca's phone buzzed with messages in the women-only chat. Edwina was dramatically complaining that it had been over two months since they had last met to complain about something. The dynamic was simple;  Each of them prepared a quick presentation of "Things that made me angry this week" or "Things that make no sense to bother me" and presented them to the group while drinking tea or beer and eating junk food. It was a tradition dating back to their university days, and after becoming young professionals, they definitely had many more things to complain about.

Francesca happened to be able to host the meeting, and they all agreed to meet on Saturday at 7:00 pm at the pianist's residence. Francesca put her phone away with a smile, opened her personal email on her laptop, and found an email from Edwina. Opening it, she found a presentation titled "Sloane, Public Enemy #1." Francesca giggled and shook her head. She definitely had a few minutes to see Sloane through Edwina's eyes and agree with a point or two in her presentation.

Francesca was on her way to the staff room with her bag over her shoulder, wondering where she had put a Tchaikovsky score when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

2:38 pm Michaela: I suppose I'll return your raincoat tomorrow.

2:40 pm Francesca: It's not necessary, it looks better on you than on me.

2:41 pm Michaela: No, I should return it because inevitably it won't have any of your perfume left.

2:43 pm Francesca: Oh? Then you can bring it, spray it with my perfume, and then take it back.

2:44 pm Michaela: No, I shouldn't have said that. I'll bring you the raincoat tomorrow. Thank you, Francesca.

2:46 pm Francesca: Don't back down, you have no idea how happy you made me with just one message. I might explode with excitement tomorrow when I see you back at the apartment.

2:48 pm Michaela: Please don't explode. What will become of Colin without his favorite sister?

2:50 pm Francesca: He'll survive, but what would become of you without me? Because I don't think I could bear another day away from you.

2:51 pm Michaela: Have you thought about your presentation topic yet?

2:52 pm Francesca: Yes, there's a civilization teacher who really gets on my nerves, so I could complain about her for hours. What about you?

2:54 pm Michaela: You're not funny, Francesca Bridgerton.

2:55 pm Francesca: I consider myself an experienced comedian today, Michaela Stirling.

A pause. Michaela seemed to be typing and deleting constantly. Francesca smiled, leaning against a wall in the hallway.

2:58 pm Francesca: I might be counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until I see you tomorrow.

3:01 pm Michaela: Yeah... Maybe me too, but don't get too excited, Bridgerton.

3:02 pm Francesca: Too late, I just did a yippee in the middle of the hallway.

3:04 pm Michaela: Okay, that did make me laugh. You might be an experienced comedian today.

3:05 pm Francesca: Just for you!! I'm going to leave (even though I don't want to). I have to look for some sheet music in the staff room. I'll see you tomorrow, but if you want, you can message me later. No pressure, of course.

3:07 pm Michaela: I'll think about it. Enjoy your treasure hunt. See you tomorrow, Francesca.

After forty unsuccessful minutes in the staff room, Cindy joined the search, followed by Noah. They turned over a few cushions on the sofas while Francesca went back to check her briefcase, thinking that perhaps it was mixed up with some other document.

"This has to be Sloane's doing," Cindy joked as she adjusted the cushion. "You can print a copy, right?"

"I know, it's just that I made some notes in pencil that I didn't want to lose, but it doesn't matter, I'll print it again," Francesca said resignedly as Noah placed both hands on his hips.

"Why would it be Sloane's doing? Did I miss something?" he asked, scratching his beard in confusion, and Cindy rolled her eyes.

When Francesca arrived at her apartment, she left her keys on the console and then took off her coat. She had to prepare her presentation for tomorrow and also ask the girls what they wanted to eat. They had all confirmed, and Colin had already sent her a private message mentioning how unfair it was to be excluded from the event. Francesca reminded him that it was a women's gathering and that he could handle spending an afternoon alone at home while Penelope had fun with them.

5:38 pm Michaela: Did you find your sheet music?

5:39 pm Francesca: No :( I had to make a copy! Are you at the girls' apartment yet?

5:41 pm Michaela: Yes, Edwina's here but in her studio, she's working on a sculpture. Elizabeth's running late, so we're having Chinese food. What are you having?

5:43 pm Francesca: I don't know... Tacos? I could make a stew too. I think I'll do a poll to decide what I'll have for dinner.

5:44 pm Michaela: The stew will take longer! Tacos are quicker.

5:45 pm Francesca: Tacos it is <3 I already have the opinion of the only person who matters to me.

She left her laptop on the dining room table and sat down in her chair while logging into her account.

5:48 pm Michaela: Were you serious?

5:49 pm Francesca: Everything I've said has been serious!!! But what exactly do you mean?

5:50 pm Michaela: What you said, that you were going to be honest with me before seeing me at the bar with Sloane.

5:52 pm Francesca: I was serious. You can ask Elizabeth or Edwina. I had a realization at the table. I mentioned out loud that I would talk to you, but after I saw you with her, I chickened out (and I really regret it, believe me). I couldn't lie to you about that, Michaela.

5:54 pm Michaela: Why now and not just four months ago when you broke my heart?

5:56 pm Francesca: Can I be honest with you tomorrow? Let me explain, but I want to do it face to face. I won't make excuses, I won't just say what you want to hear. I'll tell you exactly what's been going through my mind, no lies.

5:59 pm Michaela: No lies... Okay, no lies. Should I brace myself for another broken heart, or do you have some other intention with me?

6:01 pm Francesca: What about Sloane? Is she still a viable option for you?

Francesca waited patiently. Michaela seemed to type for a few seconds, those seconds seeming to freeze in time as Francesca stared at her phone screen.

6:03 pm Michaela: She was never an option, Francesca. How could she be? You're all I think about, and no matter how hard I tried to see her differently, I couldn't, and I should feel bad about that! But I can't. I don't want to force myself to feel something for someone else, not when you're everything I've ever wanted.

6:05 pm Francesca: You've always had me, and you always will, Michaela. I'm sorry about all this, but I swear we'll talk honestly. I'll tell you what you mean to me, and I'll show you my commitment. I'm not going to let you go, ever.

Michaela didn't reply, but Francesca understood that she might be overwhelmed by the sincerity of the messages. She put her phone down on the table and, with a sigh, began preparing her presentation for tomorrow, a small smile gracing her lips.

When her Saturday began, the first thing she noticed was a message from her mother asking her to visit soon. She had avoided it before because her mother only wanted to know when she planned to get back together with Michaela, but now that she was on track to give the engineer her most honest version of events, she could survive a visit to Violet. Finally, she told her she would come for lunch tomorrow, and the woman seemed pleased. Eloise had sent her an informative article about the benefits of classical music in childhood, accompanied by a message that read, "I always knew you'd be a genius." Anthony didn't text; he simply sent photos of his children with motivational messages for the week. It was an interesting sibling dynamic, considering that Colin was always sending reels of all kinds.

10:43 am Edwina: Do you have anything to do with Michaela happily humming in the kitchen while making pancakes? In the four months she's been here, she's never done that, and I know from her own mouth that Sloane isn't her frequent contact.

10:45 am Francesca: Maybe she's just happy! Right? There are plenty of reasons to be happy, for example: the sun came out today, and it really feels like spring.

10:48 am Edwina: Funny, she said something similar to me...

10:51 am Francesca: See you later, Edwina! By the way, what should we eat?

10:53 am Edwina: Pizza and fries! Anything but Hawaiian pizza. See you, star pianist.

Francesca giggled; suddenly she, too, felt like humming tunes as she moved around the apartment, tidying up for the visitors she'd have later.

While eating the stew she hadn't had time to make for dinner, she casually scrolled through the Instagram reels Colin had sent her (more than 20, a new record). Her phone vibrated with a new message, and she smiled slightly before clicking on the chat with Michaela.

2:07 pm Michaela: So... Today.

2:08 pm Francesca: Today!! Excited? I am!! I've already been thinking about what to wear later.

2:10 pm Michaela: I'm excited too. I guess that's what it feels like to be reunited with someone you... Love a lot, right?

2:12 pm Francesca: That someone loves you very much too!!! She solemnly promised to be honest and, above all, not to hurt you.

2:14 pm Michaela: I hope so because I don't think Elizabeth can handle being my shoulder to cry on a second time lol

2:15 pm Francesca: No, Michaela, I don't want you to suffer again because of me. I have so much to prove to you... I'll be waiting, don't take too long.

2:17 pm Michaela: See you later, Francesca.

She made progress with some school planning and at 4:00 pm decided to take a shower. By 5:00 pm everyone had agreed on the plan of french fries, Neapolitan pizza and a Roman pizza. At 6:20 pm she placed the order and added some soft drinks and beer. At 7:00 pm the bell rang. Francesca looked at herself in the mirror. Her skirt looked good, her black stockings covered her entire leg and her cream-colored turtleneck sweater was spotless. She inhaled deeply, running a hand through the ends of her hair.

When she opened the door, she found all the girls. Edwina was carrying a bottle of wine, Penelope a cake, Elizabeth a six-pack of beer, and Michaela a tray of cupcakes with Francesca's raincoat hanging from her arm. Francesca kissed them all on the cheek, pausing for a few seconds on Michaela.

"Hey," she greeted, a little nervous. Michaela smiled genuinely.

"Hi, Fran," she replied, waving the raincoat. "I might take your offer to spray it with your perfume. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, you can definitely invade the room and steal my perfume if you want," she said sincerely, gently brushing her hand as she received the cupcakes.

They settled in, and Francesca asked them to email her the presentations. She set up the projector, and after a game of rock-paper-scissors, Penelope was the first to start once the food and drinks arrived.

"Well, this week was chaotic at the publishing house," she said with a huff. "But my main complaint is the coffee machine. It's rubbish. They really should invest in a new one, an Italian-style one."

Penelope complained for five minutes straight that the coffee tasted like paper, then moved on to complaining about the publishing house's van, saying it was a hearse on four wheels. After a few claps and another game of rock-paper-scissors, it was Elizabeth's turn.

"Do you think, honorable audience, that we lawyers have much to complain about?" she asked. Everyone chanted "Yes!" at the same time. "That's right. Today I want to complain about this week's workload. I was definitely squeezed dry. I didn't see daylight, only darkness and the glare of my computer screen."

Elizabeth complained about the week's cases, the files she had to review, and how the printer had jammed while she was printing a forty-page document. Edwina joined in, saying that Elizabeth arrived home so exhausted she didn't even cuddle her to sleep. Penelope laughed while Michaela complained that they were being too cheesy. They all applauded, and Elizabeth curtsied and plopped down next to Edwina, giving her girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips before putting her arm around her.

Rock, paper, scissors, and Edwina got up, clearing her throat. Francesca settled back on the sofa, glancing sideways at Michaela, who seemed to be giving up on her slice of Neapolitan pizza.

"This week I started a new sculpture that didn't make any sense at all," she began as Elizabeth whistled. "Thanks, darling, I'll give out autographs at the end of the presentation."

Edwina had a love-hate relationship with her work as a visual artist, constantly complaining about what it meant to create new sculptures or find the inspiration to paint something. That week she'd been stuck on an idea, having to start from scratch every morning because she couldn't find the right form. Elizabeth encouraged her, saying that everything she created was fantastic. Edwina blew her a kiss before continuing. Almost ten minutes later, she finished her presentation. Elizabeth applauded loudly as Edwina collapsed into her lap, placing a kiss on her lips.

A game of rock-paper-scissors ensued between Francesca and Michaela, who laughed after tying twice in a row. Finally, it was Michaela's turn, and she stood up amidst applause. Francesca seemed to be putting in a bit more effort than the others, and Michaela appeared to notice, smiling almost imperceptibly.

"Well, this week I had to configure the database management system software," she began as her presentation loaded. "I had to do a couple of data recovery operations due to system failures."

"Time for nerdy language has begun," Edwina joked, and Elizabeth playfully pinched her arm.

"Let her talk," Francesca said, tossing her a cushion. "Go on, Michaela."

"Thank you, Francesca," she nodded. "But my complaint this week is actually about false human connections... I think we often cling to something new because we're looking for a bit of security in our daily lives, right?"

"We want to replicate what we felt before, but with new experiences," Penelope added, and Michaela nodded in agreement.

"But that's not safe. Sometimes we think we're taking the safe step and creating new experiences, but that's just a smokescreen at the end of the day," she added, and Francesca nodded slowly. "There can't be a connection if we don't really take the time to get to know each other and be honest about our interests."

Michaela really took her time explaining her understanding of connection, love at first sight, and second chances. Penelope gently nudged Francesca while Edwina clung to Elizabeth, who smiled sideways, alternating her gaze between Michaela and Francesca. Michaela used an example of romance involving a backup related to her work. Francesca giggled as she settled back on the sofa, smiling, fascinated by Michaela's boldness and eloquence. She had always been good at captivating people, and Francesca considered herself the first to be affected by her charisma.

When she finished, everyone applauded, Edwina joking again that she was becoming an expert at understanding nerd slang, Francesca tossing her another cushion as she stood up, ready for her own presentation.

"Are you going to talk about the civilization teacher?" Michaela asked, standing in front of her.

"Maybe, maybe not," she giggled, feeling the brush of her fingers on her forearm.

Francesca took her position, running a quick hand through her hair before beginning to speak.

"Several things that happened this week gave me reasons to complain," she began, flipping through the slides. "I lost my Tchaikovsky score with some important annotations, but there's something that really made me feel... Strange.”

The slide showed an image of Franz Liszt.

"I've been working hard to master 'La Campanella.' In fact, this week I dedicated myself to practicing it in every free moment I had," she said, looking at them all, though lingering a few seconds longer on Michaela. "But it's considered one of the most difficult pieces because of its rapid leaps. My hand would have to move up to 46 centimeters across the keys to avoid losing the melody."

"It sounds like a challenge," said Elizabeth, and Edwina nodded in agreement beside her.

"It is, and in the past I thought I was close to achieving it, to at least having a successful rehearsal, but this week every time I tried I failed miserably," continued Francesca. "But on Wednesday I had a meeting with someone I care about and love very much, and on Thursday morning, still in my pajamas, I decided to try the piece again. I didn't get it 100% right, but I made much more progress than the rest of the week."

She paused, perhaps feeling nervous in advance.

“My complaint is really with myself,” she finally added. “Because I’ve refused to acknowledge that people often come into our lives to complement us, not to distract us. Playing the piano is undoubtedly challenging, but when you sit down at it, you visualize something you want to achieve. Every day of these last four months, all I’ve wanted to do is find the courage to tell you, Michaela, that I was stupid and made a decision without consulting you, without knowing what was going through your mind, what you were feeling, what was making you so tired… I simply assumed it was my fault and wanted to free you from a situation I created in my head.”

Penelope straightened up on the sofa and, with a nudge and a quick gesture, signaled to Elizabeth to leave the room. Edwina seemed expectant and soon complained when Elizabeth pulled her hand. The three of them disappeared down the hallway while Michaela remained motionless, arms crossed.

"Did you think the certifications I was about to get at work were your fault?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Francesca sighed.

"I thought you needed to focus on work and that our arguments were just holding you back... I didn't want to be an obstacle to your professional success."

"How could I feel professionally fulfilled if my girlfriend was slipping through my fingers?" she asked, patting the seat next to her. Francesca sat down quickly. "Why didn't you want to talk to me about what was going through your mind?”

"Because I was too stressed organizing the classes and lessons, you'd arrive in a bad mood, I'd arrive in a bad mood, and neither of us felt like talking," she recalled, turning slightly to face her. "We'd never gone so many days without speaking, never gone so many days without texting, and I felt like neither of us wanted to make an effort."

"Yes, it was also my fault for not trying to change the situation, and you're right, we were both acting like our relationship was beyond repair." Michaela sighed, placing both hands in her lap. "And when I wanted to try to reach out, to really understand what was wrong, you were the one who pushed me away."

"I thought you were testing the waters to inevitably break up with me," she admitted, laughing humorlessly. "I pushed you away because I wanted to think about how to fix things. I didn't want to give you the space to talk to me because I felt like you'd break up with me."

"But in the end, you did it... After arguing about who should put things in the dishwasher," she said, trying to remember. Francesca nodded slowly. "Did you really get tired of us?"

"Never, but I thought I was hurting you, and I couldn't bear the thought of you falling out of love with me and feeling resentful," she said honestly, nervously running a hand along her neck. "I'm sorry I made such a big decision on my own, without talking to you first, without letting myself be honest about what was going through my mind.”

"Yes... It was my fault too," she admitted after clearing her throat. "Because I also had the chance to tell you how I was feeling, and I didn't. I let myself get caught up in the tension and the arguments... And maybe my own reaction made you think I wanted a breakup."

They remained silent for a few minutes, processing the words spoken. Francesca took a deep breath, her hand resting beside her lap. Seconds later, Michaela's hand came to rest beside hers, and almost imperceptibly, their pinkies brushed.

"Could you... Could you give me another chance? We'll take it as slowly as you want, and I'll do everything necessary to make sure I communicate better."

"Well..." Michaela pretended to think about it deeply. When she didn't respond, Francesca gave her a gentle nudge. "Oh, aren't you going to let me think about it?"

"I guess I deserve it," she complained dramatically. Michaela returned the elbow and then their hands were completely intertwined.

The girls returned to the room a few minutes later. They didn't ask any questions, but they noticed the change in the atmosphere and the increased physical closeness. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, anecdotes, and more relaxed conversations about future plans and personal desires. Francesca found herself reaching for Michaela's hand more than once, just to gently stroke the back of it with her thumb, Michaela responding with a soft squeeze.

A new week of spring had arrived, and it seemed the weather had improved, along with Francesca's mood. Not even Sloane's quick glances in the staff room could burst her bubble of contentment. She was practicing the piano more, spending more time with Cindy and Noah, and visiting Melina regularly, searching for new ways to communicate from her own perspective and even from her own fears.

After a whole week of receiving frequent messages from Michaela, Francesca was no longer in suspense about her life. She now knew what new roles she had, the programs she was installing, and the new certifications she was about to receive. She knew which days she stayed to work from home and which days it was Edwina's turn to cook dinners. It was a huge improvement considering that before, Francesca only had fragments of Michaela's life through what Edwina and Elizabeth posted.

That Saturday they met at a neutral-looking flower shop. Michaela was becoming increasingly keen on adding a touch of spring to her friends' apartment, and Francesca joined her just to spend more time with her.

"Daffodils are actually the symbol of spring in the UK," Michaela said, looking at the colorful options. "Plus, they tend to energize any space."

"Point for daffodils then," Francesca said, her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. "What about peonies?"

"They have nice volume and texture," she replied, looking at one. "They work well in almost any floral arrangement."

"Tulips?" she asked, following her lead, a lopsided smile playing on her lips.

"Good choice, they stand out for their simplicity and elegance," she said, turning to look at her. "If you had to choose a flower for any reason, which would it be?"

"Bluebells, because my mom told me last Sunday that they symbolize new beginnings," she replied after a few seconds of thought. "And that's exactly what I'm looking for right now, a new beginning for me, a new beginning for you, and a new beginning for our relationship."

Michaela giggled but paused to look at the bluebells.

"I suppose they'll look good too," she said with a half-smile. Francesca nodded in agreement.

Saying goodbye to go to opposite sides of the city was difficult, but now they did it knowing they would meet again soon. Michaela looked like the personification of spring with all the flowers she had chosen, and Francesca had been swept up in her spirit, choosing some bluebells and tulips.

"Thank you for today," said Michaela, holding the flowers as best she could. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

"I will, Michaela," Francesca agreed, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek, her hands busy with her own flowers.

About 5.2 miles later, the first thing Francesca did was place the flowers in water on the dining room table. She took out her phone to snap a picture and decided to send it to her mother, saying that she had "followed her advice." Considering the distance between the city center and East Dulwich, Francesca decided to wait a while longer before texting Michaela. So, to pass the time, she did what a responsible teacher would do: finalize details for a new week of classes.

Fifteen minutes of total concentration, trying to figure out if Yann Tiersen was interesting enough to hold the attention of a group of 10-year-olds, checking the teaching materials, and considering that living off the family fortune seemed more fun than being a teacher, she chuckled a little while shaking her head, picked up her phone, and opened the chat with Michaela.

4:54 pm Francesca: I got here a little while ago!! But I wanted you to get home too before I talked to you. How was your trip?

4:56 pm Michaela: The aristocratic neighbor downstairs kept me busy asking about my flowers, so I just crossed the threshold. The trip was fine; I was lucky with the green lights! What fun things are you doing for the rest of the day?

4:59 pm Francesca: I'm checking if next week's classes make sense, haha. Mom must have given me a real shock when I told her I wanted to be a teacher.

5:01 pm Michaela: A teenager with generational wealth wanting to be part of the lowest-paid profession in this country was definitely a brave decision! Don't doubt your abilities, Francesca. I'll always be proud of you <3

5:03 pm Francesca: What was it like for the teenage version of Michaela Stirling, who also enjoyed generational wealth, to tell her family that she wanted to study Computer Engineering and specialize in Data Science?

5:04 pm Michaela: They weren't surprised at all. John was always saying I was a nerd. When toys stopped working, I would open them up to see what was wrong. That's how I learned to connect wires. I've always been drawn to working with things that make other things work. I'm glad that desire stayed with me all the way to university. I don't know if I could be doing anything else... Living off my family's money seems lovely, but I'd get bored, right? Maybe I should have been an influencer.

5:06 pm Francesca: An influencer who ranks the best spring flowers? I'd definitely subscribe to your account.

5:08 pm Michaela: For today, I'll put bluebells at #1. Next week I'll bring you a new ranking!

Francesca smiled slightly, forgetting about her laptop for a moment.

5:09 pm Michaela: I had fun today, by the way. Edwina is asking me a lot of questions; I think she takes being the group gossip a little too seriously.

5:11 pm Francesca: Tell her to mind her own business.

5:12 pm Michaela: Okay, wait a second...

5:14 pm Francesca: She says you're not funny!

Francesca giggled, leaning back in her chair and massaging the base of her neck before going back to typing.

5:17 pm Francesca: Ignoring Edwina for a few minutes... Would you like to go out to dinner sometime this week? You choose, and I'll pay.

5:19 pm Michaela: Tempting. Are you free on Wednesday? I work from home, and if I remember correctly, you get off work relatively early, along with Fridays, right?

5:21 pm Francesca: That's right, unless I have a meeting, but I'll make sure I have the afternoon free! Choose anything but Taiwanese food.

5:23 pm Michaela: Hahaha, you're so spiteful, Francesca Bridgerton.

5:25 pm Francesca: Excuse me if I don't want to eat the exact same thing you ate with you-know-who, Michaela!!!

5:27 pm Michaela: With You-Know-Who? Sloane. Sloane. Sloane.

5:29 pm Francesca: It was fun talking to you, have a great rest of the weekend!!!

5:30 pm Michaela: Noooooooooooooo come back here, talk to me.

5:32 pm Francesca: Well, since you insist...

Wednesday couldn't have come as soon as Francesca had hoped. She'd had a talk about school regulations regarding the misuse of the uniform, then a meeting with the teaching staff, and then received the ideal plan for the semester's activities before the short half-term break. Sloane was a constant presence, but they spoke only when necessary; neither forced awkward conversations, nor did they mention that little chat they'd had a few weeks earlier.

4:36 pm Michaela: Do you want me to pick you up today?

4:41 pm Francesca: I can take an Uber, don't worry. Where should we meet?

4:43 pm Michaela: 48 Lower March!! I'll take an Uber too then. Is 7:30 pm okay for you?

4:44 pm Francesca: That's perfect! See you, Michaela.

4:46 pm Michaela: It's a date, see you!

"It's a date," she repeated with a smile as she put her phone away, focusing on opening her apartment door.

She left her briefcase on the sofa and her keys on the console before rushing to the bedroom. She opened the weather app again; the 19 degrees Celsius would be warm enough that Francesca wouldn't need an umbrella, but she would need a coat. When she got in the shower, she started singing, something she hadn't done since Michaela lived with her. She was excited, incredibly excited, and she wasn't going to hide it.

5:33 pm Elizabeth: Good luck on your date with Michaela today!!

5:34 pm Elizabeth: And as much as I care about you, I want to tell you that if you hurt her again, I'm going to forget that your family is the richest in this city and put up posters with your face on every corner, calling you Public Enemy #1. Are we clear?

5:36 pm Francesca: Very clear! I'm not going to hurt her, I swear.

After finishing her makeup and brushing her hair, Francesca felt ready to go. She loaded her destination location into the Uber app and was soon in the back of the vehicle, watching the traffic lights slowly change through the streets of London.

The ride took 40 minutes, and when she thanked the driver, she noticed as she got out that it was a Cuban restaurant. Francesca hadn't wanted to look up the address beforehand because she wanted to be surprised by Michaela's choice. She soon spotted Michaela approaching on the sidewalk, and they both smiled instantly when their eyes met.

"I hope you're hungry," she said when they met. They both laughed when, as they tried to greet each other, they moved in the same direction. "Because the food here is plentiful and delicious."

"I'm definitely hungry," she replied as Michaela gestured for her to come inside.

Francesca hadn't expected Michaela to greet the waiters as if she were part of the team. She laughed when she saw her hug a tall man who seemed to be in charge of the cocktails. When they were seated at a more private table, Francesca looked at her intently as Michaela showed her the menu.

"I assume this isn't your first time here, is it?" She asked, laughing. Michaela shook her head.

“I’m practically a regular. Last month we came with some colleagues for a birthday, but before that I came with Elizabeth. The tall guy in charge of cocktails is Juan Miguel, very nice,” she said, laughing, while Francesca flipped through the menu, somewhat undecided about what to order. “Actually, when we come here they call us Isabel and Micaela.”

“Oh, not like I-So-Belle?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I-Sa-Bel, it’s Spanish, while Isobelle is Anglo-Saxon,” she explained, chuckling as she saw Francesca struggling with everything on the menu. “Do you want me to order for both of us? I think you’ll like the regular order.”

“Yes, please, at least for now. Next time I’ll be more experienced,” she promised, relieved. Michaela nodded in agreement.

They placed the order, the waiter joking with Michaela about something Francesca obviously didn't understand, the man promised to return in less than fifteen minutes, Michaela nodded while playing with a napkin, looking at Francesca.

“Micaela,” Francesca repeated, trying to pronounce it correctly. “It doesn’t sound that different. I wonder what the Spanish version of my name is.”

“In Italian and Spanish it’s the same: Franchesca,” Michaela replied. Francesca raised an eyebrow.

“Had you already asked, or is it common knowledge?” she asked, intrigued. Michaela giggled, pretending to seal her lips.

The food inevitably arrived, and while Michaela told her that the caipirinha was probably the best drink she’d had there, Francesca began examining the contents of the plate.

“It’s Cuban-style barbecue,” she indicated, looking at her with a smile. “Those are traditional yucca chips, a mix of seasonal vegetables, and avocado.”

"It tastes good," she said sincerely as she took her first bite. "Do you consider yourself a Spanish speaker now that you're a regular?"

"I'm learning, yes, I find it an interesting language," she replied, laughing as she speared a bit of avocado with her fork.

They ate leisurely, enjoying the flavors and the drinks. Francesca had to wash down the alcohol with mineral water, given her low alcohol tolerance, something Michaela remembered well when she placed the order. As the evening wore on, the food ran out, so to prolong the moment, they paused, wiping their lips with a napkin.

"I must say," Michaela mentioned, resting her chin on the back of her hand, "That my mother is very happy to know that we're... Talking and spending time together again."

"My mother too. All she did was ask about you," Francesca said, laughing. “So... If I send Helen a message asking for any childhood videos of you trying to fix an electronic toy, would she send it to me?”

"Probably so, she was recording us all the time. In fact, John's first steps were captured on video," she recalled with a wry smile. "I don't know if you'd understand anything I said on video; my Scottish accent was much stronger back then."

"London corrupted you," she joked, looking at her. Michaela shrugged.

"London and a wonderful pianist who has communication problems," she added, and Francesca giggled, shaking her head.

When they went outside, the weather had changed drastically. Francesca helped Michaela with her coat, and Michaela did the same for her. They had to order their respective Ubers, go to opposite sides of the city, and say goodbye, but neither of them was going the other way.

"I had fun, a lot, actually," Francesca spoke first, looking at her. "I missed sharing a meal with you alone... Well, going on a date with you.”

Michaela nodded, crossing her arms, her eyes twinkling slightly in the streetlights.

"I was thinking you could come over to the apartment and we could grab a bite to eat there," she said, and Francesca giggled. "This Friday, Edwina has an exhibition in Brighton and Elizabeth has to be in court almost all day."

"A second date completely alone? That's a bit risky," she joked nervously. Michaela shrugged. "But yeah... Sounds good to me, I'll be there, wherever you say."

"Great."

"Great."

"See you, Francesca." She said goodbye, leaning in to kiss her cheek, which required her to stand on tiptoe.

"See you, Michaela, text me when you get home," she said, placing a kiss on her cheek as well.

"I will. Have a safe trip home, Francesca," she said, taking out her phone. Francesca did the same, and they both walked slowly in opposite directions.

By Friday, Francesca was once again trying to decide what to wear, her hair wrapped in a towel after her shower. Edwina hadn't wasted any time texting her to wear "Something suggestive," followed by a request not to "do anything explicit on her sofa." Francesca rolled her eyes as she put on a short-sleeved t-shirt. Penelope had advised her to be extremely casual but comfortable, not to look like she'd spent hours thinking about what to wear, since Michaela valued authenticity.

Francesca entered Edwina and Elizabeth's address into the Uber app, accepting with a sigh the 35-pound fare. Public transport at that hour was chaotic, and crossing the entire city would take her more than two hours. She preferred to pay more but significantly reduce the journey.

On the third floor of the flamboyant building in East Dulwich, Francesca decided to put her hands in her jacket pockets, as she was fidgeting with them. She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, and as she did, she quickly ran a hand through her hair. A few seconds later, Michaela opened the door with a smile.

"Hi Fran, how was your trip?" she asked, inviting her in. Francesca stepped inside, but without taking her eyes off her. "What? Is there something on my face?”

"You changed your hair," she finally said, and Michaela laughed. "Don't say anything, I remember."

"What?" she asked, still laughing, as she crossed her arms.

Francesca closed her eyes for a few seconds to concentrate, remembering all the times she had accompanied Michaela to the salon in the past, the times she had seen her at home doing her hair care routine, or when Elizabeth would come over and they would take care of each other's hair while talking about their week.

"You got a twist-out, didn't you?" she finally asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"That's right," she agreed. "After weeks with box braids, and because of my hair type, I always have to be careful about dryness.”

"I know," Francesca agreed, then smiled. "You look good, well, you looked good before too... You know, you always look good."

"Thanks, Francesca, you always look good too." She giggled and gestured for her to follow. "So, what do you want to eat?"

"Do I get to choose?" she asked, and Michaela nodded. "Junk food then."

"I like the sound of that."

They sat on the sofa, and Francesca almost laughed, remembering Edwina's warning message. They ordered from a local restaurant, and Francesca allowed herself a closer look at Michaela. She was glad she'd followed Penelope's advice because Michaela looked just as casual as she did, wearing a hoodie she knew by heart and dark jeans, her lips a coat of lipstick, and her eyelashes curled.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” Michaela blurted out after a few minutes of silence. “If I’m honest, I was afraid to believe in you again, but I’ve spent the last four months waiting for you to reach out, and I don’t want to question anything anymore.”

“No, you have the right to question it,” Francesca interjected, gently touching the back of her hand. “Because I didn’t do the right thing by apologizing as soon as you left. The next day I wanted to call you and ask you to come back, but something deep down told me I’d made the right decision.”

“It was never like that,” Michaela chuckled, twisting her hand to intertwine it with Francesca’s. “I think we both thought we were doing the right thing, moving forward, creating new memories, and putting what we had into disposable boxes, but… At the end of the day, I still missed you.”

“And I missed you, so much,” Francesca acknowledged, gently squeezing her hand. “I never, not for a single day, stopped being in love with you.” 

"Me neither, Francesca. I don't think I'll ever stop being in love with you," she said, looking at her. Francesca sighed, feeling nervous.

They looked at each other for a few seconds without saying anything. Francesca tilted her head slightly, and Michaela mirrored this with a half-smile, their hands still intertwined.

"Have you ever kissed on a second date?" the pianist ventured to ask, and Michaela let out a little laugh.

"Yes, but without tongue, just so you know."

"Oh my God, Michaela," Francesca groaned, laughing. Michaela pulled her hand closer.

"Oh my God, Francesca, just kiss me."

Francesca had done it so many times, so many that if she'd kept count in her head, she would have forgotten. But this time it would feel very different. She leaned in gently and carefully brought her hand to Michaela's face, caressing her cheek for the first time in months. She let out a disbelieving sigh and smiled. Michaela stared at her, and when they were close enough their eyes closed at the same time.

A clumsy, overly gentle touch, both laughing at the contact, Francesca moved closer and it was Michaela's turn to cup her face in her hands, her thumbs gently brushing her cheekbones and cheeks. The kiss that followed was like the first kiss defining a reunion after months apart.

Francesca knew that if she shifted slightly to the right, she'd have more room to open her mouth wider as Michaela's hands moved down to her neck, leaving a soft caress, her lips following Francesca's rhythm, who seemed to want to reconnect with the familiarity of kissing Michaela.

Somehow Francesca ended up carefully lying on top of Michaela, who welcomed her by opening her legs so she could lie down more comfortably. Her lips slowly descended, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses along her jawline. Michaela let out such a soft gasp that Francesca had to move up to kiss her and feel that vibration in her own mouth, leaving a gentle bite on her lower lip as Michaela's hands slid down to her waist, gently squeezing the fabric of her t-shirt.

"Take off your shirt," Michaela said, her lips pressed against Francesca's.

"What?" Francesca opened her eyes, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh God, that was my evil twin talking."

Michaela laughed, pulling back slightly and leaving one last soft kiss on Francesca's lips. Francesca smiled, amused, and shook her head.

"Very funny." Francesca didn't pull away completely, carefully leaning the rest of her weight against Michaela. It was a funny sight, considering their height difference. "I love you, you know that, right?”

"I know." Michaela nodded, stroking her hair. "And I love you. I hope you don't get another lobotomy."

"Michaela..."

"Bad joke, sorry." She giggled before placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the extremely high-calorie meal. Francesca got up to receive it, and they decided to eat at the coffee table while Francesca showed her the 10 new reels Colin had sent her that morning. Michaela joked that he looked like an unemployed photographer, and Francesca nodded in agreement.

They didn't seem to want to stay away, even on the carpet Michaela had intertwined her legs under the table and Francesca constantly held her hand while listening to her talk, every few minutes they remembered that they had free will and kissed again as if it was the first time, Michaela laughing and moving away every time Francesca seemed to want to do something more with her tongue, reminding her that she didn't kiss like that on the second date, Francesca rolling her eyes but accepting before leaning in and leaving a soft kiss on her cheek and another on her lips.

"I love you," Michaela said, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before burying her face in her neck.

"And I love you too, my dear, so much."

As the weeks passed, they weren't officially girlfriends yet, but they saw each other constantly, talking whenever they had a spare moment. They often found themselves chatting until late into the night, laughing at silly things and sharing stories from their respective days. As May drew to a close and the half-term break approached, Francesca had to put her communication skills to the test. She was stressed about getting everything ready for the imminent week-long break and was spending more time in the staff room than in the apartment.

But she handled it wonderfully, talking to Melina when she felt tired and telling Michaela when she was having a bad day. She tried to explain that if she was absent, it was due to her responsibilities, and if she thought she was away, it was only to better organize her work. Michaela was always there, listening, being close, and giving her space when she needed it.

A week ago she had given her back the keys to the apartment that Michaela had left before she left; she didn't want to force a reaction or rush things, but Francesca wanted her to know that that apartment was still her home after all.

3:21 pm Francesca: I'm officially a paid lazybones for a week!!! Can I see you today?

3:23 pm Michaela: Yippee!!!! I'm so glad, honey, of course you can.

3:24 pm Francesca: Come soon, I want to start my weekend doing absolutely nothing. I'll be happy just cuddling with you on the couch.

Francesca walked down the hall with her key in hand, putting her phone in her jeans pocket. When she opened the door, she narrowed her eyes in surprise before closing the door behind her with a smile.

"They just invented teleportation," Michaela said with feigned seriousness as she approached with a bouquet of roses. "Red roses represent deep love and passion.”

Francesca accepted them with a smile, remaining still. Michaela walked into the living room and brought out another bouquet, this time of orchids.

"And these orchids are out of admiration. I believe that being a teacher is a challenge, but also a professional success for you, and I value all the effort you put into making a difference in your students, my love."

Francesca accepted them as well, and after looking at them fondly, she placed them on the nearest surface, along with her briefcase, before laughing, feeling more in love than ever with the woman in front of her.

"Please, move in with me again," she pleaded, moving closer and placing both hands on her cheeks. "You're so wonderful, Michaela Stirling, that I can't bear to let you go. I can't bear to sleep another night apart from you."

"Are you looking for a roommate?" she asked playfully, her hands around Francesca's waist. "Because I might be interested.”

"I have a vacancy, yes," she whispered, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Due to renovations, there's only one room available, which would be ours, and one bed, which would be ours."

Michaela pulled down the collar of her sweater to kiss her deeply, their lips moving gently as Francesca's hands slid down to her neck. Michaela bit her lower lip, and Francesca gasped against her mouth as Michaela's hands slipped beneath the fabric, directly caressing the goosebumps on her back. Francesca smiled against her lips as she felt the pressure of her tongue, opening her mouth slightly to receive it, both moaning at the contact, Michaela's hands moving up to the clasp of her bra.

"I can take my clothes off if you want," Francesca ventured, pulling back slightly.

"Good heavens, where did the woman who stuttered when she spoke to me two months ago go?" Michaela asked, laughing, as Francesca placed quick kisses all over her face.

"That was my most pathetic, loser version," she replied, letting out a giggle. "Well, I'm still pathetic, but I don't consider myself a loser anymore."

"That's a great line. Use it in one of your classes."

Francesca laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her hand to guide her to the sofa. They collapsed down, and Michaela quickly snuggled up against her side, Francesca placing a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"Are you going to stay?" she asked softly, stroking her arm.

"Of course I'm staying," she replied in the same tone, placing a kiss on her cheek. "By the way, the box next to the door, those are the things I didn't take before I left, right?"

"They are, yes," Francesca murmured, gently running her hand up Michaela's arm. "But they can go back to their place now. In fact, we can go get your things from the girls' apartment tomorrow and put everything back the way it was... Or if you want, we can find a new way to organize everything, right? Whatever you want."

They talked for a while about their future plans, what they wanted to have in the apartment, and even the possibility of adopting a kitten. Michaela suggested names while Francesca listened attentively, placing soft kisses on her knuckles. They both laughed when they realized they still weren't officially "girlfriends," but they already knew what they wanted for breakfast tomorrow.

Francesca stood up, leaving a kiss on Michaela's lips, and went to get her laptop. Michaela groaned as she settled back on the sofa, looking at her with a smile.

"A week goes by too fast when you're in love and when you're a teacher," Francesca said with a sigh, sitting down again next to Michaela. "Can you help me make sense of this?”

"Oh God, if I'm going to be your assistant, I'll need to eat something. Do you want something?" She stood up dramatically, not without first placing a kiss on Francesca's lips. Francesca shook her head, smiling.

Michaela returned from the kitchen with a green apple in her hand and sat down next to Francesca, glancing at the teacher's laptop screen.

"Okay, act like a 13-year-old student and tell me if this makes sense to you."

"Act like a 13-year-old student," she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "Women belong in the kitchen."

"Oh God, Michaela," Francesca giggled. "Not like that, darling. Although I really hope I never hear anything like that from any of my students.”

“We need to rescue public schools from early misogyny,” she declared, raising her fist. “Now begin, I’m all ears.”

Francesca chuckled and began reading her lesson plans for the first week of June. Michaela listened attentively as she ate her apple. Every now and then, Francesca paused to ask for a kiss, which Michaela granted after commenting on a paragraph. After twenty minutes, Francesca sighed and closed her laptop, turning slightly to face Michaela.

“Thank you,” she said simply, smiling at her. “Thank you for being here, thank you for giving me another chance, and thank you for loving me.”

Michaela smiled, moving a little closer and affectionately holding her hand in her lap.

“I think I could love you in all my earthly and heavenly lives, Francesca. You’re special in that way,” she replied before kissing her knuckles. “Thank you for loving me too.”

Francesca leaned forward slightly, and Michaela met her with a heartfelt kiss, caressing her cheeks. When they parted, Francesca pulled her close, leaving repeated kisses all over her face.

"I love you, I truly do," she whispered against Michaela's neck.

"And I love you, love of my life," she replied, embracing her tightly, sighing contentedly. "With all my heart.”