The morning light spilled into my room before I was ready for it. I lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight in my chest settle all over again. Last night kept replaying in my mind. The flashback. Mia's voice. My brother's face. The grave dirt under my shoes. Everything had crawled back into me like a cold wind I could not close the door on. Despite not wanting to get out of bed, I got myself ready and went downstairs.
Today was Ava's birthday, and the house was already full of voices. Our extended family had arrived early because that is how our family works. loud greetings, laughter, pots clattering in the kitchen, and the smell of delicious food. My dad's Pakistani roots meant our table was usually filled with the Pakistani dishes everyone in the family adored and looked forward to at every gathering, and my mum had mastered the recipes. Even if my heart felt heavy, even if sleep had not helped, I knew I had to step outside and smile at everyone. I owed Ava that much.
I looked at myself in the mirror, and my eyes looked tired. Not ruined, not messy, but tired in a way that made something inside me ache. I lifted the corners of my mouth a little. It was not a real smile, but it was close enough.
The moment I walked into the living room, I heard someone shout my name.
"Amara!"
I only needed a second to recognize that voice. I spun around, and there she was. Hazel Marie. My cousin. My almost twin by personality and chaos. We were only a few months apart. Growing up, we lived down the block. We shared everything. Sleepovers that lasted whole weekends. Family trips where we would stay up late talking about boys we liked or teachers we hated. We even went to the same high school. She had been a part of every big memory of my childhood.
Hazel had light brown eyes that always caught a golden tint under the sun, which was partly why everyone started calling her Hazel long even though she was named Avery at first and then changed it later. She had soft waves of chestnut hair that framed a face people often described as effortlessly pretty, even when she tried to deny it. Her smile came easily around the people she loved, loud and full of life, but with strangers, she had a sharp edge that could make anyone rethink approaching her. She carried herself with a mix of confidence and chaos, the kind that made her unforgettable in any room she walked into.
Her eyes filled with tears the second she saw me. Mine almost did too.
She rushed over and wrapped her arms around me tightly. I held her just as hard. Her embrace was warm, strong, and familiar. It felt like something inside me that had been shaking finally stood still for a moment.
"I missed you," Hazel whispered into my shoulder.
"I missed you too," I said, and I meant it with everything in me.
We pulled back, still holding onto each other's arms like we were scared one of us might disappear.
"You look tired," she said softly.
I let out a small laugh. "You look dramatic as always."
She rolled her eyes at me, and that alone made me feel lighter.
Hazel had been studying at Boston University. Ever since she moved, we hardly saw each other. It hurt sometimes. She had been there for everything in my life growing up, and suddenly, she was in another state.
"Come on," she said, tugging my hand. "Let's go to the backyard. I wanna sit on the swings."
A smile touched my face for real this time. The two old wooden swings stood under the maple tree. Our fathers had built them for us when we were eight. We used to spend hours on them, talking about what our lives would look like at twenty-four. We thought we would be millionaires or living in Los Angeles or married to actors. Life had turned out nothing like those childish dreams, but the swings still felt like the safest place in the world.
We walked through the house, greeting aunts and uncles and cousins along the way. Everyone seemed to be in a happy mood. Mom was laughing loudly in the kitchen. Dad was arranging chairs outside. It almost made me forget the knot in my stomach.
When we reached the backyard, Hazel sat on the left swing, and I sat on the right. For a moment, we just moved back and forth slowly, letting the cool morning air brush against our faces.
Hazel looked at me sideways. "Are you staying the night?"
I shook my head. "I was planning to, but not anymore."
She frowned. "Why not?"
I took a deep breath. I had not even told June that I was going to share the story with Hazel, but Hazel was the one person besides June who could read my silence better than my words. I told her about everything that happened last night. Mia. The flashback. The grave. The way my body froze, even though I tried to stay calm.
Hazel's expression turned hard the moment I said Mia's name.
"I swear," Hazel said with fire in her eyes, "I cannot stand that girl."
I let out a tired sigh. "It was a long time ago."
"I do not care," Hazel snapped. "She hooked up with my boyfriend in high school. My actual boyfriend. You and I were sophomores. She was a senior. She knew exactly what she was doing. And she came to school the next day acting like she did nothing wrong. She is a snake, and she always has been."
"It has been years," I said softly. "You are over him. You do not even care anymore."
Hazel crossed her arms. "Not caring about him is different from trusting her. And I do not trust her at all."
I did not argue with her. She was right. Mia always carried this messy energy around her that left people wounded. Even now, she had somehow found her way back into my life only to leave me shaken again.
Hazel's anger settled, and she looked at me with softer eyes. "Are you okay, though?"
I pressed my lips together. "I am trying."
She nodded slowly. "I am glad Ava was there."
My heart warmed a little. "Yeah. She helped."
Hazel kicked off the ground, making her swing move higher. "I need to tell you something."
I smiled. "What now?"
"I might be moving back to New York."
My head snapped toward her. "What? Are you serious?"
She nodded, excitement filling her eyes. "I got a job offer from a well-respected company in the city. Nothing is final yet, but it looks good."
I practically jumped off the swing and hugged her. "Hazel, that is amazing!"
She laughed. "I knew you would freak out more than my parents."
I pulled back. "Of course I would. This is huge. And if you move back, we can actually see each other again. Like real cousins, not long-distance cousins who FaceTime once a month."
Hazel grinned. "That is what I was thinking. And I wanted to ask something."
"Ask," I said.
"You and June were planning to get an apartment soon, right?"
"Yeah. Maybe in a couple of months."
"Would you want to look for a bigger place so I can live with you guys? Only if it works for all of us."
I froze for half a second, and then excitement flooded through me. "Hazel, yes. That would be perfect. And it would help us all because none of us makes much money. Splitting rent three ways sounds like heaven."
She laughed loudly. "So we would be roommates again. Like when we were fourteen and sleeping in your room every weekend."
I leaned back on the swing, letting my feet drag through the grass. "That actually sounds so comforting."
"It does," she said with a nod. "And I would get to be around you more. You need people who love you close to you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Hazel always knew when my walls were thin, even when I tried to hide it.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Always."
Hazel leaned a little closer and bumped her shoulder against mine. "So," she said, dragging out the word, "what is going on with the whole Hayes thing?"
I rolled my eyes. "It is nothing. It is just a project. That is all."
Hazel stared at me with that knowing grin that used to get her whatever she wanted when we were kids. Her golden brown eyes narrowed, bright in the sunlight. "Yeah, right. Asshole. Spill it."
I sighed because she never lets anything go. "I swear it's nothing. I randomly bumped into him, and he somehow already knew my name. At first, I thought maybe he remembered me from Professor Lang's class or something. But later I figured he probably read those articles." I told Hazel about the drunk guy stumbling into my path and how Asher stepped in before things got worse. I didn't tell her how my stomach dropped or how the whole thing left me shaken long after it ended.
Hazel's mouth fell open and then curved into a slow smile. "Oh. He definitely looked you up. Nobody reads those random articles unless they want to."
I shook my head, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Stop. It is not like that."
Hazel lifted her brows in disbelief. "Amara. Please. A guy does not search you up and then pretend he remembered from class. That is interesting. And honestly, after what he did that night, I like him more than I expected to."
I groaned. "Can you not make it into something?"
She laughed softly. "I am not making anything. I am just saying he sounds decent. And he clearly pays attention to you. More than he wants you to know."
I chewed the inside of my cheek, unsure what to say. Hazel watched me for another second and then nudged me again.
"Relax," she said. "You do not have to marry the man. Just stop pretending you feel nothing. I know you too well."
I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding. "You are annoying."
"Always," she said. "But usually right."
We sat in silence for a moment, letting the sounds of the family inside drift through the open door. Laughter. Clinking dishes. Someone is calling for more sugar. It was home. Loud, chaotic, messy home.
Hazel looked up at the sky. "You know what I want most?"
"What?"
"For you to be happy again."
I paused. "I am trying."
"I know," she said softly. "And I am here for all of it."
I let out a breath I had been holding since last night. Hazel being here felt like a piece of my childhood had come back to hold me together. Even if my heart still hurt, even if the memory of last night lived heavy inside me, having her beside me made it a little easier to breathe.
"Come on," Hazel said, hopping off the swing. "Let us go inside before your mom starts yelling that we are not helping."
I laughed, stood up, and followed her toward the house. Maybe today would still be hard, maybe the next few days too. But for now, I had my cousin, June, and a small hope that things might get better.
And that was enough.
The house was buzzing with laughter and chatter as we gathered around the dining table for Ava's birthday. Our families were close to each other every holiday, birthday. We mostly spent time together with my aunt, her husband, Hazel, her parents, and her two elder brothers. After singing happy birthday, Ava blew out the candles, and we all cheered. I handed her a small, neatly wrapped gift. "Open it," I said with a smile. She tore the paper, revealing a scrapbook I had made, filled with photos, little notes, and memories from the past year. Her eyes glistened as she hugged me tightly. "This is perfect," she whispered, and I felt a warm glow inside.
Dinner was served, the rich aroma of spices filling the air. My dad's half-South Asian heritage had always meant good food, and tonight was no exception. Every bite reminded me why family dinners like this were the best.
Grandma, as usual, was full of questions and jokes. Out of nowhere, she squinted at me and asked, "Amara, are you a lesbian?" Her words hung in the air, and I almost choked on my food.
Hazel, sitting across from me, snorted and laughed so hard that everyone turned to look at her. I rolled my eyes and said, "No! And why would you even think that?"
Grandma chuckled, shaking her head. "The last time I saw you with a guy, you were probably a senior in high school, and that relationship lasted a month."
"That doesn't make me a lesbian," I said, trying not to laugh, "just because I'm not dating anyone right now."
Hazel grinned mischievously. "Grandma, I think the same. She goes out with her girlfriends more than I go on dates anyway."
I nudged Hazel under the table. "June, eat your food," I said, playfully shoving a forkful into her mouth. "Grandma, she is being sarcastic, don't let her get to you."
Hazel laughed again, leaning back in her chair, her light brown eyes sparkling with gold flecks in the candlelight. "Okay, okay, you're right. I'll eat."
The rest of the dinner was filled with jokes, teasing, and laughter. Hazel and I shared knowing glances, our easy banter a little shield against Grandma's relentless curiosity. Even with all the teasing, the warmth of family and Hazel's presence beside me made everything feel light and easy. The entire day, Mia and I didn't utter a word to each other, we didn't even look in each other's direction, and it didn't bother me, all thanks to Hazel.
The house had quieted down after everyone left, the lingering warmth of laughter and conversation replaced by the soft ticking of the living room clock. I slung my bag over my shoulder, mentally checking that I had everything I needed for the drive back.
"Wait," my mother said, frowning slightly as she approached me. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"
I forced a small, apologetic smile, not wanting to explain the real reason. "I, uh… I just remembered I need to finish some work for the project. It's due Monday, and I forgot to submit a part of it."
Ava piped up, nudging me gently. "It's already late anyway, Mom. She can leave early in the morning, no need to stress tonight."
I nodded, grateful for Ava's intervention. "Thanks, love, for the suggestion, but it's a bit urgent," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
My father said nothing, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the hallway. But Mia, of course, had to make her presence felt. "Let the little missy go," she said, a sly smirk on her face. "Her billion-dollar empire is waiting for her."
I glanced at her, meeting her gaze, feeling the familiar mix of irritation and patience that came with knowing exactly what she was trying to provoke.
Finally, my father spoke, voice calm but firm. "Mia, enough." He turned to me. "Text us when you reach. Drive safely."
I smiled faintly, nodding, then went to hug Ava tightly. "I'll miss you," I whispered. She returned it just as tightly, murmuring something about visiting soon.
Next, I hugged my mother, who rested her hands on my shoulders. "When will I see you again? On my funeral?" she teased lightly, but her eyes were soft.
"Don't be dramatic, Mom," I said, laughing quietly.
I stepped back, took one last look at the house, and walked toward the car, the weight of the weekend and family still lingering, but somehow lighter than when I had arrived.