The guilt became too heavy to carry.

Elena booked a last-minute trip to visit her aunt in New Mexico. She told Maya she needed space. Time to think. Maya didn't ask questions - at least not yet - but Elena could feel her friend's concern growing behind the silence.

Santa Fe was dry, golden, and quiet in a way Seattle never could be. The rain was gone, replaced by endless skies and sun-baked earth. It was the perfect place to forget - but she couldn't.

Daniel haunted her in the smallest ways. In the dog-eared novel she brought with her, in the smell of black coffee, in the way the wind picked up in the late afternoon.

She tried to convince herself that it had been a mistake. That space would dissolve the feelings. That this version of her - the version who crossed a line and fell in love with someone she couldn't have - was temporary.

But every time her phone lit up, she hoped it was him.

And every time it wasn't, the ache grew a little deeper.